Cool For Cats

No, not the supermegastar pop band fronted up by Jools Holland, but the fish, catfish. At least that was the hope as I drove to a top secret Texan location.

At first it was pretty slow sledding, with a couple of halfhearted nibbles on my go to worm and not much else at all. Then a boat pulled up, "We've been at it for hours, nothing!" 

I shrugged and cast off again, wondering if the expedition would be a bust. So why not change up the bait? Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Several pieces of shrimp added to the worm and a slow retrieve later, something got fierce on the hook and a fight was on. Then up came a catfish.

And another, and another, and another in a kind of we-love-the-shrimp-worm-combo feeding frenzy. Great result and a fast 45 minutes or so of good action; out went the line, in came the fish, 6 in the end. 

After that things started to quiet down but I wasn't complaining, the sport had been good and it was time to head for home.

Next time I'll bring a cooler and keep a few. Fry those cats up.

Tight lines,

LSP

May Day!

Well, well, it's May Day, yet again. The Puritans frowned on May Day, go figure, thinking the festivity a a blasphemous, pagan excuse for wanton immorality. And, like red moleskin trousers or the Church of England, it wasn't in the Bible. So they stamped it out along with Christmas and Easter, killjoys.

A Hippy

Still, in fairness to the Puritan sensibility, May Day was doubtless full of unreconstructed, late medieval bawdiness and it never made it back onto the calendar of popular feasts after the overthrow of the wicked regicides. That is until now.

Cheap Red Wine

Hippies have taken over May Day, along with their revolutionary geeknerd cousins, the Communists, and typically don't miss an opportunity to make a nuisance of themselves in otherwise peaceful civic centers. 

A Couple of Commies

The May Day commies throw dialectical materialist duodecimal dice for their NWO rulers and the hippies get loaded on cheap red wine and thieve, it's what they do.

A Typical Bluegill

Here at the Compound things were different. I drove to Clifton to administer Last Rites and followed that up by catching a catfish and a bluegill. 

Aggressive Little Monster

The cat fought hard and at first I thought I'd caught a snag, but no, it was a fierce, aggressive fish. He lived to fight again another day.

Never trust a hippy,

LSP