April 22, 2020
Normally this should be about some great BWO hatch on the San Juan or something to that effect, but things are anything but normal right now. Instead this is gonna be all about me, because I need the cathartic release, so I hope you'll indulge me for a bit here. I don't know about you, but boy I need to fish somewhere pretty soon for the sake of saving the rest of humanity from myself. Lately, I'm becoming not only a threat to myself, but to others as well. By the way, how ya'll holding up? Good I hope. Me? Well, I've been eating good—maybe too good, although most of my meals seem to be eaten while standing over the sink or in front of the TV, so I'm not sure if that counts. Apparently all rules of social decorum have gone right out the window around here, anarchy seems to be filling in the cracks left behind from the pressure of isolation. One thing is for sure, if these restrictions aren't lifted soon there's no way I'm gonna fit into my mankini by the time summer gets here. And speaking of TV, if I see one more "so called" expert being interviewed from home with a bookcase in the backdrop, I'm gonna scream. Am I now supposed to believe them more because they have books in their house? How do I know they have even read any of them? Okay, wise guy, if you're so smart, tell me what day it is today. Who really knows anymore? Besides, I have a whole house full of books and I'm not an expert on anything, but if you've read any of these past reports then you probably already knew that. Anyway, I'm dealing alright with the social distancing part of all of this. I've never been the gregarious, social butterfly type—growing up, my momma had to tie a porkchop around my neck, just to get the dog to play with me. Whew, I wish I had more good news for you, but honestly, I don't think anyone has a definite answer on when we'll be able to fish the Juan again, at this particular point in time. "The future's uncertain and the end is always near"..... Jim Morrison. Until then, I just hope all of you stay safe so you can come back when the time is right. There should be a lot of fat, happy fish out there when we can finally get back at them. I will say this—I've never been happier in my life to see the start of spring gobbler season—it's been my saving grace as far as mental health goes, although if these turkeys keep up their dirty tricks, it could lead to my eventual undoing. Well, I don't know when I'll write one of these again, but thanks for listening. I feel better already. Hope to see you again before too long, in the meantime, I'm gonna stay locked in here like Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard, whiling away the hours and planning my magnificent return. The King is gone, but he's not forgotten. Stay cool.