Saturday, June 28, 2008

Seersucker 'n' Spectator WTH Style, or the Last Exercise in Unbridled Narcissism (For the Time Being)




I dug out the Brooks Bros. vintage seersucker suit tonight, and gave these Allen Edmonds McClain spectators their first public showing. With all that going on I opted for a navy knit tie and a fishing tie clip.

Plus the "Mayberry RFD" haircut from Mario the barber for extra un-hipness.

Back to fishing and movies for a while.




Friday, June 27, 2008

Low-Key WTH Style





After yesterday's excesses I went very low-key today, with the WTH aspect being the lilac shirt (which looks white in the pics) and the funky old Paul Stuart knit I found at the thrift shop.

The exasperated expression was free.

Thrifted BB sack blazer, Bill's poplins, Sebago black pennies, BB shirt, thrifted tie, Hober square, Central strap on a Timex EZ Reader.

What the hell.



Align Center


Thursday, June 26, 2008

Olive Drab WTH Style






It's hard to imagine anything duller to look at than an olive suit, so I tried to jazz it up with a ground stripe shirt, tie with leaping trout, and a pocket square shoved in any old which way.

Brooks Bros. olive poplin sack, tie, shirt and square from J. Press, and Footjoys.

I am pleased to report that we had a lady come in for admission who was a little on the rickety side, emotionally speaking, and she said my duds made her feel like she was in good hands.

And one of the fine lads said something unintentionally funny when he commented that I dress like a "Catholic pimp."

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Whoops

Tony V points out the link to the latest fishing epic requires a password, which in turn requires registration, so here's the copy from last week's Lakeville Journal:

From TCExtra.com

Sports
Returning to the river after long, tick-infested time off
Patrick Sullivan
06/19

It was a long winter, an indifferent spring, and it took me forever to find a groove as I began fishing after a lengthy absence from my favorite rivers and streams. I lost most of last summer to a tick-borne illness, and the first couple of times out this year I realized I had underestimated the ehrlichiosis tick, which not only makes you feel like hell but causes angling-related amnesia.

“How does this knot work? Where are those flies? Whose feet are these?”

I caught two surprised-looking largemouth bass in mid-May. They were cruising around in about 10 feet of water, wondering if it would warm up enough for the spawning season, like a couple of sailors on their first shore leave in months, finding to their dismay that the town is in the grip of a temperance movement and all the young ladies have downed tools, as it were, and joined up.The old ladies, too.

And I stumbled around my nearby small trout stream a few times, trying to find my own balance and stealthy approach, which is difficult in full chest waders, which I am now wearing all the time because I don’t want to get attacked by ticks again.

Two weekends ago, though, during the first summery weather, I got to my home waters in the Catskills. Perhaps the familiar setting did the trick, but I stopped falling over my feet and dropping things and began catching fish.

The Esopus Creek, in Ulster County, has three distinct sections — the first, from the headwaters on Panther Mountain to the hamlet of Big Indian, is small, squirrelly and mostly posted; the second, from Big Indian to Allaben, is a medium-sized trout stream with good public access; and the third, from The Portal at Allaben down to the Ashokan Reservoir, is muscle fishing: The water releases from the Schoharie Reservoir come through the Portal (a tunnel under the mountains) and provide a constant source of cold water releases, which makes this lower section of the Esopus a heaven for trout. There are tens of thousands of trout in this 16-plus mile run.

Good public access, too. The only drawbacks are the other recreational users: kayakers and other white-water enthusiasts, who require releases of water higher than the norm, and tubists, overpadded people from outposts of civilization like Perth Amboy, N.J., and painfully thin folks from the hip sections of Brooklyn.

Anglers can work around the kayakers, who only do their thing a couple of weekends a year, but the tubists are another story, as they throw garbage everywhere and generally behave like louts.

So for two days, with bright sun, high winds and temperatures in the 80s, I worked the sections of the middle and lower Esopus I know best, using the tried-and-true patterns, and caught a bunch of trout. The lower Esopus is a wet fly river; I use a two-fly rig most of the time, and one of the patterns is always the Leadwing Coachman.

And a big rod is a good idea here, too. You’ll want to cover water that is some distance away and a tough wade, and there are some legitimate lunkers that will tax a 3- or 4-weight. I use rods that are either 8.5 or 9 feet long, for line weights of 5 up to 8, depending on the water level.

Nothing truly spectacular came to the net, but there’s something about consistently catching respectable trout over the course of a two-day period that is reassuring.

Especially if you’ve been wondering uneasily if the Bite of the Tick has destroyed the angling part of the brain.

From Lakeville, take Route 44 throught Millerton to Route 199 west. Continue on 199 to the Kingston-Rhinebeck Bridge. The road on the other side of the bridge is Route 209; continue on that to the turnoff for Route 28 west. Public access to the Esopus begins above the Ashokan Reservoir in Boiceville.


© Copyright 2008 by TCExtra.com


Zombie Kickball - Another Good Reason to Visit Maine

Someone on Ask Andy posted this link to a zombie event in Portland.

I am very tempted to go, observe, and write about it.

But I probably won't. Another $60 in gas, even in the Subaru, and so on.

Monday, June 23, 2008

The Cinema - Pam Grier's Shining Moment



Jack Hill's 1974 blaxploitation epic Foxy Brown is completely dominated by the great Pam Grier, who didn't do anything this good again until 1997, in Quentin Tarantino's Jackie Brown.

Foxy's boyfriend, an undercover federal agent, must undergo radical plastic surgery so he doesn't get rubbed out by the drug and prostitution gang he helped finger, but unhappily Foxy's useless brother, the shiftless Link (played with spastic intensity by Antonio Fargas) figures it out and spills the beans. The boyfriend gets rubbed out, and Foxy goes on the warpath.

She signs up with the bug-eyed madam who provides the financial cover for the drug ring, and her first gig is a tag team deal with a fat judge who is supposed to go easy on a couple of street dealers the next day - if he has a good time that evening.

Well, the judge winds up with no pants on in the hotel hallway, with grim women hacking at him with their umbrellas. Must have been rainy in southern California that day.

The bad guys twig to her activities, kidnap her and send her off to some crappy rural outpost in the care of two goobers who tie her to the bed and get her addicted to heroin. This does not faze Foxy, who blows them up and then seduces the pilot of the drug plane, so she can wipe out the rest of the gang (with the help of some righteous brothers from the neighborhood).



This is no way to treat a lady, as the goobers discover a few minutes later

And to add insult to injury, she cuts off a particularly personal part of the anatomy of Steve, the sleazy drug kingpin and reluctant lover of the bug-eyed madam. She then busts in and gives the jar containing the unit to the bug-eyed m., prior to shooting her.



Steve thinks he has the upper hand, but Foxy and her two friends get their revenge

Pam Grier is in terrific form in this one. Not only does she have world-class chestal appendages, but the girl can act.

And for once the dialogue isn't completely cringe-inducing. Neither is anything else. It's actually a pretty good film by normal, non-CACA standards.

By CACA standards it is stellar: Bazooms galore; plenty of soul brother dialogue; not too much plot to get in the way of the story; non-elective surgery; kung fu; brawl in lesbian bar; airplane propeller meets bad guy's head; a terrific soliloquy by Antonio Fargas while wearing gaudy pants.

This one will endure, so it receives the coveted Iron Coil.





Sunday, June 22, 2008

Shameless Promotion

I am often asked, "Hey, how come your fishing pieces aren't in The Lakeville Journal anymore?"

And the answer is, frankly, because I have been too lazy to write any, and they don't pay very much.

But it's important to keep one's hand in, even at rock-bottom rates, so here is a link to my latest effort:

Click here