Fly Fish Chick asked who to hide behind in a bar fight? The guy wearing the Chuck Norris Action Jeans. (They won’t bind your legs.)
February, 2008
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The Chief Export of Chuck Norris Is Pain
Friday, February 29th, 2008
Bass Ubiquity
Friday, February 29th, 2008
One good thing about freshwater fishing in South Florida is that bass live everywhere. And bass whack flies, it’s a proven fact.
Fishing Jones Now Resides on WordPress
Friday, February 29th, 2008I was on a different blog provider for a while, but now everything is on Fishingjones.com
Bombs and Butterfly Peacocks
Thursday, February 28th, 2008
The power outage that rippled north from Turkey Point on Tuesday did not slow down the peacock bass fishing. I also got the chance to test a version of the bass fly bendback tied with a Gamakatsu bass hook. I couldn’t get it to work with any weight whatsoever but got it to swim decently with an expoy head and a long length of super hair. Both largemouth and peacock bass hit it, so that was encouraging, but I’d like to see someone with some aptitude at the vise give it a go.
The Chesapeake and the Critical Area Act
Thursday, February 28th, 2008What happens when the people in charge of upholding an environmental law work to circumvent it. For those not familiar, the Chesapeake Bay watershed is only the largest in the United States, as well as the most important estuary on the Eastern seaboard. It’s also the world’s largest striped bass nursery.
Strike Another Match, Go Start Anew
Thursday, February 28th, 2008Any day now, the fishingjones.com url will bring you here.
One theological argument from back in the day surmised that the universe runs according to design, and any design must have a designer, proving the existence of God. Some theologians carried that a step further, making the argument that God designed the universe but then skipped town. That’s how I feel about eponym, my former blog host. I switched to them a year and a half ago, and loved the simple template design and ease-of-use. But then their customer service and support staff seemed to disappear, maybe to Mexico or the back roads of Myanmar.
At heart, I am a Darwinist, and I turned to WordPress in accordance with survival of the fittest. So far it all seems pretty copacetic. One snag: I exported an XML file of my old eponym blog posts, but it doesn’t seem compatible. I may lose a year and a half of content–not including my Retro archive on the old blogspot blog–but that may not be a bad thing.
Changing things up…
Wednesday, February 27th, 2008This will be the new location for Fishing Jones as soon as I get to migrating.
Florida Fresh
Monday, February 25th, 2008
I hit the ground running, rented a Mach 1 73 Ford Mustang*, and did what I had to do. After taking care of business, I called two friends in the afternoon to try and get them to ditch work and go fishing. But they have real jobs.
*Chevy Malibu
Winter Rewards
Saturday, February 23rd, 2008
CONTEST CHANGE: Name That Literary Passage
Friday, February 22nd, 2008It’s ok to admit your failures, and so far I’ve gotten just one email for the anti-hero photo contest, and Murdock forgot to attach his photo, so it’s time to switch it up. I’m still giving away the j fisher hat, but now it goes to the first person to identify the author of this passage and the title of the work. It has nothing to do with fishing, but it’s one of my favorite excerpts from one of my favorite writers. Email me the correct answer to fishingjonesATgmail.com or post it in comments and, if you’re first, I’ll send you the hat…
“I left Vicki , went upstairs, crouched over the typewriter, and looked out the window. It was hopeless. All my life I had wanted to be a writer and now I had my chance and it wouldn’t come. There were no bullrings and boxing matches or young senoritas. There weren’t even any insights. I was fucked. I couldn’t get the word down and they’d backed me into a corner. Well, all you had to do was die. But I’d always imagined it differently. I mean, the writing. Maybe it was the Leslie Howard movie. Or reading about the life of Hemingway or D.H. Lawrence. Or Jeffers. You could get started writing in all sorts of different ways. And then you wrote a while. And met some of the writers. The good ones and the bad ones. And they all had tinkertoy souls. You knew it when you got into a room with them. There was only one great writer every 500 years, and you weren’t the one, and they most certainly weren’t the ones. We were fucked.”
UPDATE: Correct answer provided by Salty of BWTF. “No Neck and Bad As Hell,” by Charles Bukowski.
Pete McDonald