The Power of the Tweed Suit

I unilaterally declare this Tweed Suit Week.

Why We Fish (part one)

Try a steady diet of this and see how fast your brain unravels.

My Brain Today

If you stare at it long enough a room full of monkeys at typewriters will write "Hamlet." I swear.

Memory Lane Strikes Again

I don't know why but I was thinking about this trip a few years back. The guy on the left, Mike Z., needed company as he met with his soon-to-be ex-wife and I got the nod.

The idea was to provide some kind of support as he negotiated this difficult moment, and to help keep him from getting sozzled if it didn't go well.

It didn't go very well, but it wasn't a complete disaster, either.

Afterwards we got out of our suits (Jos. A. Bank for Mike, which he had bought when he was much heavier, and vintage Brooks Bros. for me) and farted around Kittery, Me., where I learned that a "lobster roll" is nothing more exotic than lobster meat and mayonnaise on a hot dog bun. Big whoop, frankly.

Unfortunately the next time I visited Kittery was for Mike's funeral. He never did get it, but he was a decent guy.

Greetings from Snowy Connecticut

Not very snowy, actually. Just enough to shovel and test out the handling on the new (old) Subaru.

And the warmth of the vintage Abercrombie & Fitch wool shirt.

The Cunning Plan for 2013

See this critter? He's Davy Wotton, a Welsh fly-fishing guru who somehow wound up on the White River in Arkansas.

I don't know how he got there and I don't care. I'm glad he did, though, because he's done well enough guiding and so on to release a DVD called "Wet Fly Ways" which has completely changed the way I fish.

Well, not completely. Before I was hipped to "Wet Fly Ways," I had been doing something similar to his three-fly rig, albeit with two flies.

And I have been fishing soft hackle wet flies for years.

So the cunning plan is to master the Wotton Way, and adapt it to a two-fly setup for smaller rods and streams.

The explanation of this, highly entertaining and with photos, will be my ticket into the highly paid world of Trout Freelancers.

Which will in turn enable me to retire to Montana, and only come to the door when beautiful young women, clad in nothing but hip boots and a pleasant expression, arrive to ask for help with their knots.

That and counting my money will keep me happy.

That is the cunning plan.

Happy New Year — Let's Hope It Doesn't Suck

2012 sucked, and there is nowhere to go but up. Unless we go down some more.

Announcing the official 1980s revival. My theory — if enough people dress like they did during the Reagan years, someone of similar stature and ability will come along in 2016.

What else am I looking for in 2013?

• Congress grows a collective set and smacks this imperial president around. (Not holding my breath on this one.)
• The economy continues to disimprove; my newspaper goes under; I go on unemployment and wind up with more take-home pay than when I worked full-time.
• The green Subaru, creaking a bit at 210K and which smells like the cigar bar  in Hell, becomes the Fish Car. I read "Trout Madness" 25 years ago and ever since I have wanted a Fish Car.
• I master the art of the three-fly presentation a la Davy Wotton.
• I get down to 170 pounds and stay there. This is not unrealistic.
• Except for professional reasons, I ignore politics in 2013. I also ignore political posts by Facebook friends.
• I am going to start ironing some of my chinos and see how I like it.
• I am going to give Match.com three more months, and if I can't get something going then I am going into romantic retirement — which won't be much different than the status quo.
• Definitely taking a road trip to West Virginia to fish with Phil this spring — although probably not in the Fish Car.
• Explore out of the way Catskill streams this year. Ditto Connecticut and Massachusetts.