Bass Caddy Blog

I’m back!!!!!! After a long blob break I felt it was time to enlighten you folks a little more. Last years’ fishing trail was extremely exciting and loaded with adventure. As we prepared for this season a big turd landed in the punch bowl. The WBT was cancelled. Feel free to come to your own conclusion as to why. Me? Ithink the BIG BOYS are very afraid of the female angler they have to fish against in the Classic. But anyway, there seems to be no trail for the ladies to fish.

HAW- TO BUDDY! Like the idjit I am and as P.O.’D as I got over the WBT thing, I popped off to my wife that I should start my own trail.   Now, we all know my wife, she’s usually not into surprises, but she shocked me by saying go for it.   Apparently, she had such a good time last year fishing with the ” BIG GIRLS”, that she wanted more, and was very disappointed about not getting to fish with the girls this year (see her blog for more on her thoughts about this subject).   Anyway,  I talked to my good old friend Lee at Lake Fork and this dumb A– not only thought it was a good idea, but said he would partner with me and pull the trailer all over hell’s half acre in order for the ladies to have a venue to fish.   It actually surprised me how many “good old boys” thought how unfair it was that the ladies had gotten the rug pulled out from under them, and wanted to give the ladies a chance to do what they love to do, and in an atmosphere that was fun.  In simpler terms, a lot of guys would just like to see the gals get a fair shake.  Anyway, finding all of this out just encourages me to dig myself deeper.  I keep thinking how unfair all this is, and, being the “Mr. Fix-It” that I am, I want to do anything and everything in my power to fix it, and make it better for the women.

Now I’m in this deep. We start having meetings and laying down plans searching for a tourney trailer.  Every trailer we found someone either beat us to it or it cost an arm and a ham roast.  Neither of which I have a spare of.  So I finally got mad and said I was going to buy a new trailer and be done with it. (Did I mention I’m on a budget?) (not controlled by me, it’s you-kn0w-who who usually hangs on to the money real tight around here, but here again I was surprised to hear “go for it”.  Now this is getting scary.  So I head out and buy a nice 20 ft. car- hauler and drag it home, still in shock over even being told it was okay to get it in the first place.   Now this is just the beginning of the money outflo. Digital scales and a back- up system. Go for it.  A really nice P.A. system to play music and do weigh- ins.  Go for it.  Tubs to keep the fish alive in. Go for it.  A custom stage and podium.  Go for it.  Material to build an office in the trailer. Go for it. I hope you can begin to catch my drift here.  If this girl of mine wants to fish this badly,  then so be it.

Ladies and gents I am proud to announce the first day of the AMERICAN LADY ANGLERS TOURNAMENT TRAIL!!!!!!! Please feel to visit our web site www.americanladyanglers.com . Yes now I have two web pages to fret over. Please watch both pages to see the happenings as we build the ALA tourney trailer and post the trail events. I’m excited.

For today

I quit.

Well, well what a tournament we had. Terri placed 25th overall, and only a slight injury. Maybe in the Rock we can get by with no issues at all.  HA!!!!!!!

Terri thanked everyone in Monroe so all I can do is Caddy Curse  the folks who weren’t quite as helpful as the ones Terri mentioned. First, for the 6 people who pulled out in front of me, while I was pulling a 2500 lb. boat. Yes I have brakes, but that doesn’t make up for your lack of brains or eye-sight.  My ability to stop is hindered by my total disdain for you knotheads.  Second, for the gas station that stays open 24 hrs. a day, but was closed at 3 in the morning when I needed to fill the boat prior to a tournament day.  (Shut-up Steven, I know a good caddy would have done that the day before).   When you say 24 you should mean 24.  Third, on our 5th anniversary the Mexican Resturant that charged us $51.00 for a not-so-good meal - and bad service.  No it wasn’t Taco Bell smarties. Fourth, the prilgrim who walked his pony-size dog around the boat ramp where caddies wear flipflops and open toed shoes. May that dog leave a surprise in your wife’s favorite  night shoes and then see who laughs. And finally. to all those folks , both coming and going, who feel like the fast lane is just a place to keep pace with the guy in the slow lane. Or as I like to call them TRAFFIC CONTROL MONITERS. Kinda scary when you look in that mirror and see a pick up pulling a huge boat coming at you at 90 ain’t it?  MOVE YOU’RE D.A. over.

Remember, its tough being a caddy. We get stressed well in advance and stay that way well after each event so if you can, try to be understanding and make life a little less difficult. Our pros are depending on us to be the rock. You know - like when we get them out of the water we remember to put all the straps and the motor-toter on.  Huh, Steven?

For today.

I quit

As a bass caddy, I have learned much in my first tourney. One item is marking spots. You would think this would be simple, buy a map and a pen. Nope - that’s for wussies, not caddies. As a cadd, you have to take a much more literal, and physical view of marking spots for your angler.   I have found that as a caddy, you drink large amounts of coffee and tea and must use the facilities. However, when marking spots for your angler, you return to the basics of nature. As a dog would do, you literally “scent mark” all spots to be fished.  The reason that the bass caddy must perform this duty is they do not have to urinate in a plastic coffee can first.  Should you follow that strategy, it leaves a scent in the water of plastic baits being used by another angler.  As you go from spot to spot, you must insure that the scent you are dispensing can be well-recognized by the other pro bass caddys.  This will keep your angler from fishing in a “top secret” spot marked by another anglers’ caddy.  You must also be careful that you do not pick up an old scent from previous tournament practices.  The caddy’s responsibility is to insure that the scent that they pick up is fresh and meant for the particular tournament that your angler is fishing.  Should you become confused by the numerous scents that will be on each spot that you look at, always check around for fresh cigarette butts floating in the water.  This is also a good indicator that another caddy has marked that particular spot for their angler. 

As a final note on this particular subject, do not wake up in the middle of the night and use the restroom as this will cause a tremendous strain on your bladder during the next days’ practice.

On a serious note, I would like to thank all of the folks in Gadsden, Alabama who helped us out with all of the problems that I was unprepared for.  If you’ve read my wife’s blog (Terri Talks), you know all of the problems that happened.  These were all issues that I did not address prior to the tournament.  However, who woulda thunk that brand-new batteries would crap out in such a short period of time?  Also, it never occurred to me to try to stop the power company from lowering the river to its lowest level in ten years.  Even though my name is Rod, not God, I also feel responsible for the rainy weather we had during the tournament.  In this next tournament in West Monroe, LA, we have all new batteries, all new raingear, new charger, new JumpStarter, new Navionics chip for our electronics, and new maps.  The only thing left to chance is the weather.  Here again, the name is Rod, not God, but maybe he’ll give us a break this go around. 

For today I quit.

I have decided to return. This really gets hard after a while since I don’t type so gooder. The fishing tourney was a flop. The weather was bad and the fish had lock jaw. However it was good to be back in the thick of things again. A few small fish were captured and released but that was it. We did manage to freeze our hineys off and break the trolling motor again. I think I’m going to mount the thing on the dash of the boat. Thats the only area I haven’t hit something with yet. Maybe I should teach Terri how to use a paddle. The whine would probably be more than I could stand.

We also went to the classic since I last blobbed. It was fun and we met a bunch of really nice folks. I feel I was  left out of something though. We ran into a number of the WBT pros but not one bass caddy did I meet. If you guys had a seceret meeting place it would have been nice to be included. I know I’m the new guy but come on. Okay it was the caddy outfit wasn’t? I knew it. I’ll never b e able to hang out with the big boys again. Dang that hat. Well  maybe someday I will be forgiven. Anyway the classic was fun. If you have never been you should go. Lots of stuff to do and see. I think they were overwhelmed. The expected 40,000 and got 137,000 more or less. As you can see it was very successful.

The month of March is here and we are gearing up for Bama. I’m looking forward to the WBT event and so is Terri. I hope by then all will be forgotten of the attire I was made to wear. I’ll keep you informed as to what happens.

For today

I quit

As all of you can see, I’m Ba-ack!  If you are anything like me you immediately envisioned the movie Poltergeist and sang the word Ba-ack! in the appropriately sing-song creepy voice, so I know we’re on the same page from the get-go.  “T” master was moving our site to another site, bigger, stronger, faster ,smarter - the Six Million Dollar Site!  Ok, I admit, I watched too much TV as a kid (ok adult).  This should really kill me, too much time on my hands waitin’ for the fishin’.   Enough pooter junk.  Its fishin time!!!!!!!

Okay, any bass angler worth his (or her) lifetime subscription to Bassmasters Magazine will tell you that it’s always fishing time, so I will clarify my thoughts for you.  It’s time to start the tournament trail.  Some of you non-fisherman-types are wondering - why February? Why not start at the beginning of the year in oh, say January?  The reason for the seasonal kick-off in February is to make it fair for those Northern Anglers, who have to deal with what they call “Hard Water”.  Being as I’m from the South, I always thought hard water had something to do with too much chemicals or something.  I’ve since found out that above the “Freeze Line” (which varies from year to year according to complicated things like the Jet Stream, and the fifty-first parallel, and Artic Circles or Northern Lights, etc. ) the water gets hard enough in the winter that you can walk on it - i.e. frozen water = hard water.  That little detail of the water being frozen won’t stop a dedicated fisherman, however.  A real dedicated angler just drags a little outhouse-type building over the frozen surface of his favorite fishin’ hole, cuts a hole in the ice, and spends countless blissful hours freezin his fanny and fishin.  Of course real fishin involves bass boats, so until the bass boat makers start making bass boats with even bigger engines (probably impossible) and those fancy ice cutting/crushing tools on the front, the Tournament Trail Time will start around February throughout the nation.   There’s a long time, however, between the time Northern lakes become liquid again and the time this ol Southern boy is warm enough to fish.   I’ll fish in the summer when there’s actual steam rising off the water, but I’ve had my limit of cold for the year now.  I reached that limit pre-fishing for our first Tournament last week

On this particular day in Texas on Lake Richland Chambers, it was colder than a well-diggers heinie in Alaska.  (I’m only guessing here, not having had any personal experience in this area, but I do possess a good imagination).  I want to set the scene for you as I waited eagerly for my fishing season to officially start.   As is common for February, a cold front had passed through the area overnight.  The day before was sunny and mild, so it was somewhat colder than I’d been expecting.  I’d spent a lot of my night dreaming of all the big bass I was going to catch,  and what lures I was going to catch them on, but being a true man, I spent zero time planning my wardrobe for my fishing trip.  It’s actually too bad my wife didn’t come along this time.  She spends as much time planning what she’s going to wear to fish as any part of her pre-fishing agenda.  That means that when she is fishing with me, she also plans what I’m going to wear also.  (I may have mentioned she has some pretty funny ideas about how our outfits should match - but I’ve given up arguing with her and just shut up and let her dress me).  She gets hourly computer weather updates, and plans our wardrobe accordingly.  If I’m fishing on my own, I’m literally on my own, meaning I have to man up and dress myself.  (See  blog “FISH ENVY” for a full explanation). 

Last Thursday was, coincidentally, the fifth, and thats exactly what I decided I should have had to drink instead of coffee.   I want to reassure all of my readers that the fifth mentioned was strictly for medicinal purposes, as it is a scientific fact that alcohol doesn’t freeze.  Unfortunately, I was not in my own boat, and therefore not in control of the situation.  My fishing buddy took me across the lake at 200 mph,  right at daylight.  Our conversation went something like this:  Me - “BURR  - dang it!  S-S-S-low down!”   Friend -”Kain’t.  The fish are on the move and so are we.”   Colder Me - “I forgot my hat and gloves.”  Pitiless friend - “Sorry,  gotta go. “  Colder, More Pitiful Me - “I got a brain freeze.”   Meaner, Soon-to-be-Ex, Friend - “Your feet should be froze. Where are your socks?”  Colder, Madder Me - “Don’t wear socks unless someboby dies.”  Former Friend - “As cold as you look you could be next to go.”  Numb, Frozen Me - “Maybe I should have worn socks.”

We finally get to the first spot and ease our way in.  He opens a box to get our frozen plastic lures out  (new fun fact: there is a certain point at which those flexible plastic lures become frozen and inflexible.  When they’re like this, they don’t fish right.  You have to thaw them by placing them on the warmest spot on your body you can find.  Use your imagination and you’ll figure out why I was really unhappy by the time I had my lure flexible enough to hook it and throw it in the water).  As I look across the deck to see what my buddy is doing while I’m trying to thaw out my lure, I happen to glance back into the storage and low and behold! there sits a face shield!   For all you non-fishin persons, this is a device you wear on cold days to protect your face and ears - it’s kinda like the front half of a full-facemask motorcycle helmet.  I point at it disbelievingly and ask him why he didn’t give it to me at the beginning and guess what?  He forgot about it until just now when he saw it.  Thanks dude.  In desperation I pull out my lighter and try to warm my hands  as my usual warm spots have been sacrificed to warm the bait, making them too cold to warm my hands enough to make my first cast.  As I try not to set my fingers on fire, I watch while my partner is undressing layer by layer.  First off come the gloves, then the knit hat and matching jacket.  Off come the parka and ski pants.  He’s sweating and panting by now and still has on several more layers.  I am not happy. I am usually treated to a similar lose-the-layers routine by my wife when she’s fishing in cold weather.   She starts off sporting what I call her “Michelin Man” look when it’s cold, but at least she makes sure I’m warm too.  And she looks a darn sight cuter stripping all of those clothes off than my former buddy. 

After all this you would think the fish would be biting and this would make up for all the discomfort but NOOOOOO!The wind kicked in and the front hit and the fish got blown outta the lake and sat around the fire at the lodge while I froze my butt off.  We threw everything in the boat and didn’t get a tap.  The weaker-constitutioned so-called fishermen tell you don’t fish during a front, but as a true bass angler, I say anytime, all the time, and for a long time is the best time to fish.  I have fished when it was sleeting so hard we had to hide in the dry storage because it was cutting our skin so much.  Compared to that,  this was great!  Wonderful!  It certainly won’t be the last time I will be out there in bad weather.  For more than a few reasons, I hope the wife is along next time - I’ll tell her I missed her and sigh long-sufferingly while she lays out my clothes for our trip. 

Tournament fishing may not be for the faint-hearted, but Bass Fishing is a sport for everyone!  See ya on the lake!

For today Iquit.

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When I was a kid, my grandmother and I were poor. The only “presents” I ever received were clothes, and I got very few of those. When I got old enough to make my own way in life I made a rule:  “No clothes for any holiday. Only tools and fishin’ stuff - for all occasions.”  This is a great rule, ’cause I get what I want. (Sometimes)  Some members of my family don’t seem to grasp the significance of this rule, or choose not to play along. They think that because I have enough tools to rebuild an 18-wheeler that I have enough. (Ha, I say)

If you’re like me you lend your tools out only to “trusted” friends and family members and they never find their way home.  I have decided that this just means that your tool has chosen a new home. It decides that the new toolbox condo is much comfier than the old toolbox apartment they were stored in- it’s given itself a tool upgrade.  I can only guess that the oiling, cleaning and polishing they receive elsewhere is better than being stored dirty. To each his own. The screwdrivers are the worst defectors. Don’t they know that they’re supposed to be flexible about their uses? A screwdriver is the most multi-use tool available. Just because I use their points for prying and hammer on their handles doesn’t mean they should run away to places unknown.  Everytime I need one for a specific job it’s never around.  I would accuse my wife of loaning them to our kids (that’s what she does with everything else we have), but they’re definitely not mechanically inclined. At least the kids get the intent of my “tools and tackle” rule and keep replacing missing tools. Never in time for the job at hand, but eventually.

Now fishing equipment is another matter altogether. Again, everyone seems to think that there’s not a rod, reel, lure, hook, or worm that I don’t already have.  I don’t know why they think that just because I had to buy an entire shed to store my fishing equipment in that I have enough stuff. That’s just not so! If you’ve ever fished, you know how gung-ho all baits are. They LOVE their jobs. Throw anything in the water with a hook on it, including a bare hook, and it will grab stumps, grass, rocks  -anything to anchor itself, snap your line and stay in the water. The water is its home - it wants to stay there!  If the line hasn’t snapped your first impulse is to get your lure retriever and run it down the line and …yep! now they’re both stuck. Thirty dollars and change down the drain. Add two more items to the gift “wish list”. 

Reels are a whole ‘nother issue.  Somewhere in the reel rulebook it says that you have to take them apart and clean them on somewhat of a regular basis. Any “good” mechanic knows that when you take something apart and put it back together there are going to be spare parts left over. For some reason this never seems to work well with these items. As a reel (real?)  mechanic, you can’t walk into a fishing shop with what looks like a reel and a bag of spare parts and not expect a little ribbing. At my local shop they have gotten to where they not only laugh - they take pictures for their “Reel Rapist of the Month” competition - a title you don’t want to hold for several years running.  The good news is that if you do hold this title, you get a lifetime ten percent discount on reel repair. I now am up to a forty percent discount. Six more yearly titles and all my reel repairs are free. I just send in the kids with the reels now.

Rods, however, are by far the most important of all fishing items.  I find it interesting that you can’t use a reel without them, but you can use a rod without a reel.  Just tie the line to the rod tip and keep fishin’. I don’t know why, but all of my rods seem to have a death wish. When I flip the trolling motor over the front of the boat, six rods dive off with it.  I spend the rest of the day trying to fish up my rods with a DD-22 crankbait. I figure if I catch a few bass and at least three rods it’s a break-even situation as far as my fishing day has gone.  On the fishing deck, my rods seem to move around to where they are most in the way. Invariably, I’ve got a biggun’ hooked and fighting it back to the boat.  I move around the boat, keeping the fish out of the big motor in the back, I hear a pop, but keep moving. Pop! I move back to the front of the boat, keeping the fish out of the trolling motor prop, I hear another pop but keep cranking, the fish is still on!  “Man this fish is huge, get the net, babe.” I hear another pop as my wife nets the fish. It’s the fish of a lifetime! A surefire money-winning fish. High-fives, and if you fish with your wife, big hugs-and-kisses, all around!  (Warning, if you fish with a buddy, don’t try the last part.)  Anyway, after carefully removing the hook and gently, but reverently placing the beauty in the livewell, I grab up my rod to make the next cast. Oh crap, my one-piece medium heavy fast action rod is now a three-piece “warranty-doesn’t-cover-it-because-you-stepped-on-it” tomato plant stake.  Not just three tomato plant stakes, but nine!  Yes, the three rods you fished out of the lake yesterday have given their lives (or at least their backbones) in remorse for their lost friends.  I sit down and tear up.  I think to myself that at least I have an hourly winner, so I can replace my stuff.  When I tell my wife this rationalization, she brings reality cruelly to light.  “Honey, you lost about $5000 worth of equipment in two days.  The best you can do on an hourly prize is $500.  You’re in the hole $4500.”  Oh well.

For today I quit

I’ve been off the pooter for a couple of days because someone changed a password. Not me. I think it was the adult on the site as punishment. “What for,” you ask?  Well, I think it’s because she’s coming down with something. Cause I get to go fishing this next week  to pre-fish our first tourney.Now I won’t say she gets upset when I go by myself but I have experienced the painful silence and a glimpse of not-well-hidden quivering lower lip and the I’ll-be-brave tears as she waves me off of a morning when I’m leaving without her.  I can’t seem to get her to understand her physical condition.  Okay that was B.S. , she does understand - she just doesn’t want to give in to it.  She works really hard to just be able to fish once in a while. But the time has arrived for us to get after it. Our first team tournament is on February 14, 2009, at Lake Richland Chambers.  The Bass Champs North Texas Team Trail 2009 fishing season begins. The honey thinks it’s really appropriate that we are fishing together as a team on Valentine’s Day. How sweet. I do kinda feel sorry for the other guys going out to fish that day without their sweeties.  I imagine it’ll take ‘em until next Valentine’s Day to make it up. I am often told how lucky I am that my sweetie wants to fish with me.  By her.  Actually that was one thing I was smart enough to figure out on my own.  I know I’m lucky.  In many ways, but especially with the wanting-to-fish thing. Poor baby is afflicted with an age-old disease known to anglers everywhere - Fish Envy. That can be either the type of illness brought on when you want to go fishing everytime someone else does and you don’t get to go.  Interesting is that there is another form of the disease that makes you sick everytime someone else either catches a fish and you don’t, or catches a bigger fish than you do.  It is a wide-spread disease, with a peak-occurance in the spring, with many variations of the illness.  In my wife’s case, it always comes on quick-like.  She’s pretty much fine until it’s time for me to walk out the door, then it hits her, and she comes down with a severe acute case of the Fish Envy.

Acting like I’m oblivious to the coming trauma (drama?), I’ve spent the whole day re-rigging our reels.  Like any good fisherman, I pulled off all the old line, cleaned and serviced them all over the off-season.  Sitting out in the garage, spooling reel after reel with line, my mind starts to wander, as it often does. Thinking along the lines of fishing lines, I have often wondered -  why there are so many lines? You know - Braid, Mono, Flouro, Hybrid, Thin, Thick, Green, Yellow, Red, Blue, Neon, and my personal favorite - Moss Green.  Who came up with all this stuff ? When I was a kid there was one type of line.  STRING!! You fished for fish with it.  It was so simple then.  I’d get fish to fry and eat.  Having something to eat made it so I could go to work to buy more string to catch more fish to eat.  Simple. Now you have a certain type of line to catch a specific fish.  I don’t dare get caught using mono to catch a catfish or carp.  I’m not sure why I can’t do that, except I guess the other fishermen would laugh at me.  Or worse, someone will turn you in and you loose your ability to purchase more. It’s part of the fine print on your fishing license.  I think there’s a federal department over even the state Fish and Game guys to crack down on offenders. Should you screw up and catch a perch on braid there is a chance of prison time.  Ignorance is no excuse. This is serious business.  They skip right past the fining and go straight for the jailing - or hanging if you live in Texas.  You must be extremely careful to catch the right fish for the line design.

Now that I’m an official published blobber, I worry about my readers.  Hate mail used to be called poison pen letters. I don’t know what the equivalent sent from a computer keyboard over the Internet is called.  It’s probably some form of keyboard karma, where if I get enough negative comments I get shocked by my keyboard when I try to reply to the reader’s rage.  My fellow anglers are really going to be suprised this year, however, with our new secret-weapon line.  No more worries for me about either computer torture or downright death from using the wrong type of line for the wrong conditions.  Terri and I will have an easier time this year cause we will have a new secret line that does it all.  With this super-special line you are able to catch any and all types of fish.  On a single line!  With no worries about federal marshalls coming and confiscating it and locking you up or anything. We got smart (and lucky) enough to get hooked up with a sponsor importing this incredible new line that’s absolutely magic. It’s so much in demand they can’t even keep it on their own shelves because the Big Boys’ Big Toys Store is buying them out by the case.  As soon as it’s safe, we’ll tell you what it is.  We wouldn’t want to be responsible for any injuries - like those stampeding women at Christmas buying the latest toys for their kids. Fisherpeople are better than that. I’ve never seen a bunch of anglers rushing through a bait shop trampling over each other to get the latest swim bait or jig.  We do the right thing and cut it off our buddy’s line when they’re not looking.  Just kidding.  No angler would ever steal to get a new lure. It’s part of the Angler’s Code of Conduct. It’s right there after never lying about the size or number of fish caught. Since stampeding and stealing are out, anglers conduct their business by trolling the Internet to find what they want before anybody else can get it.  Funny how bragging rights have changed to who found the latest, greatest fishing invention cheapest on the Internet.  I heard it’s another newly-discovered strain of Fish Envy.  It’s apparently the first known computer-to-human transmission of a computer virus.  Apparently the longer you spend either shopping for fishing stuff, or just playing around on the pooter you are more susceptible to transmission of the virus.  I don’t know why it afflicts anglers and not everyone else, but I suspect it has something to do with using the Net.

For today I quit.

We are now on the second consecutive day of trying to answer the question - “What do we do about shirts?”  You guys out there may be innocently thinking (as I stupidly did) “Wear them?”  With a woman involved (specifically my lovely, but obsessive wife) it could never be that simple.  To get everyone on the same page, I’ll tell ya’ll how the issue started in the first place.  You may have read in one of my previous blogs that my wife is very concerned (meaning obsessed) with having the “proper” clothes to wear for any occasion, be it a formal function or a sporting event - in this case professional tournament fishing and personal appearances.  In the fishing world, much like the NASCAR world, sponsors contribute to assist an angler throughout the tournament trail, in return for the angler helping to promote the sponsor’s products.  One of the more obvious ways that a fisherman or fisherwoman promotes his or her sponsor is in wearing clothing items emblazoned with all manner of gaudy logos, slogans and websites, in effect becoming a walking billboard.  Terri has been a little  behind the curve in getting things going for the bass fishing season, partly because we didn’t make the final decision on whether she was going to be able to join the WBT and fish the season this year until November when it was time to take the leap and put down our money and sign up online.  After that was accomplished on the appointed date, I sat down in my recliner with a sigh of relief, thinking “I’m glad that’s over”.  Now I could relax until February or March when it was time to fish.  This seemed to coincide with my wife revving her engines into high gear and getting down to the “business” of fishing. 

I had no idea there was so much work involved off the water.  Simple, ignorant man that I am, I thought that most of the work involved with tournament fishing happened out on a big bunch of water somewhere. In a boat. With a fishing rod in hand.  According to my wife, I am woefully ignorant as to where the hard work of fishing actually happens.  Apparently the busy place is in our bedroom.  Now normally if there’s a flurry of activity happening in our bedroom, you could say that I’m pretty much “up” for the adventure and more than willing to dive right in and do my share.  Not in this case.  Not after the eye-rolling, you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me, men-are-so-pitifully-ignorant, take a deep breath and sigh reaction I got from the little woman after asking the sixty-four thousand dollar question.  “You’ve signed up - what’s left to do?’  She points across  the bedroom at her stack of labelled file boxes as tall as I am, full of books, papers, file folder, maps, and basically more stuff about fishing than I ever knew existed. I sigh in disappointment, knowing that I am not about to get anything except a lecture that I could have done without.

I can always count on my wife to come through for me with a way-too-long-and-involved answer to any question I am careless enough to blurt out without thinking.  Here’s the gist (or list) of what all my wife informed me is involved before a hook is ever thrown in the water.  Number one - get sponsors.  I understood that, I just didn’t understand that it involved things like presentations and proposals. I didn’t know fishing involved boardrooms. After sponsors are business cards, promotional pictures, websites, interviews and personal appearances - and all that is before the fishing season even starts.  Add to that my wife’s idea of being “prepared” to fish. The preparedness involves hours of reading and researching, checking and fine-tuning all of the equipment, and finally, and apparently most importantly, being personally prepared - which equals dressing for the part.  After much discussion and more researching, Terri presented me with my “options” as far as in my capacity as professional bass caddy. Put simply, there were no options. As a good husband and bass caddy, I’ll just shut up and let her dress me like a pet or a baby doll and take it like a man.  Anything to keep her happy. But, oh no! Big Problem! Now it’s gonna take too long and she is going to have to make a personal appearance, and we are going to have to fish, all without being properly attired. Seeing my wife rapidly going into one of her panic meltdown modes, I quickly come up with what I think are several perfectly acceptable alternative plans, which she immediately shoots down in flames.  Apparently she has narrowed it down to three options: Printing, patching, or stitching, or some variation of mix and match. I keep thinking,  “they’re shirts - just shirts!”

 Well we are day two of buying, then printing, patching, or stiching shirts.  I can’t even figure out why any one of these could not just take care of it. As a man, any of these would do.  Here’s what I’m faced with. I can go with patches. Sew them on - I’m cute and ready to fish. Give me a pocket to put my smokes in, and I’m cookin’, sometimes literally. And if it has extra pockets to put the honey’s make-up in, we’re extra-specially good to go. Now the problem lies in getting this done quickly. This is beyond belief. You can’t get any of this done quickly anywhere.  As a man I can slap some silk screen on and go. Not so with the lady in my life. Color choice, fit and form also come into to play. Now I know she could put on a toe-sack and mark it with chalk and be beautiful. I honestly think she is trying to soop me up. I must match her in color - we are a team. The fit can be some what looser for me. Thank God for that, cause if not I would look like 10 lbs of catfish in a 2 lb vaccuum pack bag. Iknow she loves me cause she makes sure I look good in public, most of the time. But anyway this shirt thing is really getting to us both. Just when we adapt to the issue a new one pops up. We have actually bought shirts only to find they were not what we needed in the first place. I refuse to return items purchased. This means we are stacking more unwanted attire up for a garage sale in the near future. This will be a big and fat boy sale of useless fishing and hunting attire. Good deals all around. MAN! A thought just struck. Maybe we could use our camo shirts, sew on the patches and be able to blend into the trees along the bank so the fish can’t see us. Now there’s an arguement to go with.

For today I quit

Well, I have decided to come back and blob again after recovering from my recent computer-induced PBSD (Posting Blobs Stress Disorder).  I know that a lot of you are going to think that this is another “Pooter rap or rant”, but it’s not.  I want everyone to hear about the personal attack on me led by this computer.  That way you’ll be prepared when it happens to you.  I only recently realized that what has been happening to me since I started posting on this website has not been me accidentally hitting wrong keys and messing things up.  It is a war between me and my computer, and the computer is winning the battle.  It’s kind of  like David and Goliath, and the giant here is the giant technology comprised of computers and the Internet, and I’m the one with the pebbles and a slingshot.  Here’s how I figured the whole thing out…

 This past “N“-day (Nascar, NFL, and Nap-day, otherwise known as Sunday to the uninitiated or women out there), in the afternoon I chose the Nap option due to the fact that there was no Nascar or NFL.  The wife and the youngest daughter that we have, Jenny, decided while I was taking a nap that it would be a wonderful idea to get me a FaceSpace and a MyBook.  The way they explained this wonderful idea of “social networking” was that I could use these sites to find old friends, meet new ones, and get my thoughts and ideas out to a wider audience.  In Theory.  On a Good Day.  If I think pure thoughts and hold my mouth just right as I type.  In real life, what was presented to me to be a simple task - “go check your pages that we filled out for you”, became a lesson in frustration. 

First off, I couldn’t find the pages I was supposed to and had to have the wife stop her physical therapy every two minutes and come help me.  Every time I tried to find a “friend”, my friendly computer questioned my motives by asking me to enter a secret code, followed by an encrypted password and apparently a top-secret special handshake in the form of something called a “CAPCHA”.  “What the heck is this?”, I quizzed the wife, thinking that I had messed something up again.  It certainly looked like the results of some of my mis-steps: something that looked vaguely like words and numbers strung together, sometimes spelling out what looked like real words, but with lines drawn through them and the letters fading in and out and changing sizes up and down.  Whatever a “CAPCHA” is, it definitely bears a resemblance to my work during editing and proofreading.  (I bet everyone thought I didn’t proofread, didn’t you?  You’re right - I don’t.  The wife does because she doesn’t trust me for some unknown reason…)  Terri tried to explain what CAPCHA is for, and as usual, I tuned out after hearing the beginning of the sentence.  For some reason, when my wife tries to explain something to me, she always starts sounding exactly like my first grade teacher.  She begins,  “A CAPCHA is used to prevent spam….blah,blah,blah…”  As soon as she starts I go into my “Jeopardy” mode and start hearing the tune from Final Jeopardy in my head…Da, da, da, da-da, da, da, daaaaa, da, da, da, da, da, da-da, da-da, da, da….”Ok, we’re back, let’s see what our contestants have written. What do you have written for your question Rod?”  To which I mentally always reply, “What is something that I don’t ever care to know that my wife knows an infinte amount of mindless trivia about?”  I then mentally congratulate myself for keeping that “yes, I’m paying attention honey” look on my face, and try to keep from saying, ‘I wagered a million dollars that she’d never shut up, Alex!”  Most of the time she doesn’t require any feedback , just for me to sit quietly and act like I’m paying attention.  Luckily I don’t have to contribute any input in the form of a question, because she explains everything as if I’m a two-year old child.  Actually the two-year old would probably have a better chance at this. 

I’m just not sure what my role is in all of this.  I’m told I have to fill out a Profile, and immediately I’m stumped.  I come to the part about “Status”, and think - everyone knows I’m married.  I talk about my wife all of the time, so everyone must know that I’m married.  In my narrow corner of life, there are only two states of being - married or not married.  I didn’t know there were so many other things I could be.  One of the hardest questions for me to figure out was how I was feeling.  I’m a simple guy - happy or sad, with mad thrown in for variety.  The list I could choose from was so extensive, I only read down about 100 before becoming so overwhelmed I finally settled on the one that fit - “confused”, and left it at that.  Needless to say the rest of my profile is blank - when Jenny comes back over she’ll have plenty to do.  Since it took so long just to get through my marital status and my mood, I decided to skip the rest and get to the important part. 

I’ll bet everyone is thinking that I didn’t get the point of the MyBook and FaceSpace sites, but I did.  The whole point is to find “friends” and have more than anyone else in the entire universe, or at least the universe that is the pages of these Internet sites.  That being said, I immediately set out to gather up as many of these “friends” as I could find.  If you’re wondering why I was putting the imaginary air quotes (and I really am doing this when I’m saying this), it’s because it seems that my idea of friends is different from the people who run MyBook and FaceSpace.  To me, friends are someone that you know and like to hang out with.  I’m a well-rounded person.  Even if I don’t have fifty-bazillion moods, I know the difference between, say, a friend, a relative, an acquaintance, and someone whose name I can remember that I went to high school or used to work with.  In Internet-land all of those people are my “friends” (air quote) - get the picture?  My real friends call me.  I call them.  It’s a lot simpler that way (and much easier on me considering my hunt-and-peck typing skills don’t make me very computer savvy). My real friends also stop by and hang out with me.  Apparently all my Internet “friends” are good for are writing on my walls.  If my real friends did that we’d have a problem and somebody would be getting a can of paint and a paintbrush to fix things.  I do have to admit one thing, though.  I did find a real friend with whom I’d lost touch who managed to see one of my great MyBook or FaceSpace pages and get in contact with me.  You may be thinking that he was really just an Internet “friend” (air quote) - but he was actually a real friend (no air quote, real thing).  You know how I know? …He called me on the phone!

For now I think that I’ll just concentrate on this website and maintaining my modest little blog and Bass Caddy page.  I’ll leave all the social networking to the ones who understand it and get a lot out of it - the computers.  You see, I finally figured it out - that’s what the Internet is for.  Everyone thinks that their own computer is just that - a personal computer.  Just a machine that waits dormant to be powered up and used for whatever purpose the owner chooses.  That’s not what’s really going on.  While these computers are “sleeping” is when they’re most active.  The computers themselves are using the Internet to visit other computers through all of these “social networking” sites.  They don’t need us at all and are secretly living a virtual life all their own travelling though cyberspace to connect with other computers and become “friends” (air quote for sure) in the sense that only computers can.  Computers are re-defining the word friends for their own use, just like they are using the Internet and Cyberspace for their own purposes.  How else do you think that the Internet and computers have become so vital to our daily lives and communication?  They planned and did it themselves, using their giant Giga-brains to pull it off.  Just thought everyone else should know - the social networks are actually so the computers can communicate and become “friends”.  It’s all making sense to me now…only a computer could think up 200 different moods beginning with the letter “a” - it’s all for them.  I only have a couple “friends” on each of my social networking sites.  I think my computer has about 63 gazillion at last count.  Roughly the number of computers online today.

For today I quit.