I know what you're like, international readership of this popular mind-blog. There you are, riding big boats and fishing for shark off the flats of Bermuda. But don't scorn me for being a humble bank fisherman on Lake Whitney.
Little Fella |
Speaking of which, the lake was up and restless this evening after Mass, with waves crashing against the limestone shore like breakers in the North Sea, or Aberystwyth pier. I didn't have a boat so I cast off from the limestone, with a worm. Who knew what'd turn up? Maybe nothing, that's the way I felt.
Yes Indeed |
Wrong. Bass turned up, with the best of four plowing into my hook like Trump on Twitter after midnight. I didn't even have a boat.
Head Home, Fool |
Here's the thing. You can sit or stand looking at the news in slack-jawed consternation, or you can get out and catch some fish.
Be wise, readers, and chose the better option.
LSP