I posted this a couple of years ago, but it seems just as valid now as it was back then, during a particularly contentious time.
I was all wound up to reply to some of the recent subjects that have been hot, all the absolutes voiced, and the personal nature of some of the responses. Then I told myself to relax. Then I thought a little self-examination was in order.
Anyway, this is what I ended up with after examining some of my strongly held opinions. I guess at the end of the exercise, I would tell myself to lighten up. There is more than one valid way to skin a cat. I don't know quite what it is, but I call it Myopia.
Look at them steelheaders, ain't they high and mighty?
Tossin they hate out, both left and righty.
Ain't no discussion, middle ground or debate;
If it ain't somethin' they love, then it's somethin' they hate.
Hate them commercial guys catchin' they fish;
That they'd all go to Hell is they one fondest wish.
Hatin' all other steelheaders in the worstest way,
'Cause they might just see one on they river some day.
Hatin' them guides hoggin' up all they rivers;
Like to cut 'em all up and roast all they livers.
An' them guides hate 'em back for cathin' fish without guides,
'Cause fishless clients will question they guides' bona fides.
Them steelheaders in drift boats, they give sleds a big curse,
To which them in them sleds gives out just the vice vers'.
All o'them boaters hatin' all them on the bank;
Like to throw 'um in a meat grinder, then take turns on the crank.
An' them on the banks hates right back at them boaters;
Hates all them with paddles and all them with motors.
Them boaters could fish the whole stream end to end,
But they stop right in front of you and drop they gear in.
Locals hate tourists and tourists hate locals;
About who hates who more, they's both very vocal.
An' ev'r steelheader thinks the river's all his just because,
He was out on the river today 'fore you was.
An' ev'r'one else's gear is just crap, or costs way too much;
And ev'r'one else's river etiquette sucks.
Ev'r cracker downstream's ruined steelheader's fun;
An' ev'r Gomer upstream's put down all the fish in the run.
Steelheader's the only'st one really CAUGHT fish (that's not braggin');
It's jus' ev'r'one else's either linin' or snaggin'.
Them that get more fish, if they mention they sums,
is just meat fishers, numbers guys, an' other such slimy pond scums.
Them that gets less fish, well, of course, they's all slackers;
A bunch of lazy, city-slick, egg sucking crackers.
Let steelheader lose a fish - it was a screaming, red hot, native chromer.
You lose a fish - you're a greenhorn, fish farming, cracker-assed Gomer.
Steelheader drift fishes. Well, that's just fine.
That meathod's proved out over time.
But, next breath, steelheader cain't help but say -
All others is crackers what don't fish this way!
'Tween bites and the bottom, steelheaders in tune,
And if you ain't, well, you're just a neophyte goon.
. . . And all o'them using longer leaders
is a bunch of fish-linin', bottomfeeders. .
. . . And if your leader's one pound more,
you're an inbred, cross-eyed, fish-snaggin' whore. . .
. . . And if you're leader's a little light,
you're killin' the fish cause of way too much fight. . .
Steeheader ain't never, ever crossed up no one's line,
But sure hates all them as crosses him up all the time.
Steelheader cain't jus' prefer his own way,
But's got to jus' hate how others might play.
Spin and spoon fishers - they's jus' fish-rippin' snaggers, ya'll.
An' float fishers, they ain't got no skills at all.
But steelheader reserves a special, white-hot kind of hate
For them as likes puttin' steelhead on they plate.
Want to be a steelheader? It ain't never too late;
Jus' get all myopic, get out there and hate.
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Tad
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Tad