spaceboy135
Well-known member
(Now that I've caught your attention with that thread title...)
My twin brother and I were laughing on the phone last night about how much BS I make up when I talk about stuff I know nothing about. I've matured to the point where I stop myself right as I'm starting a BS sentence and say, "K, honestly what I'm about to say is me pulling stuff outta my butt..." After the conversation I felt inspired to get on facebook and write about how to become a great fisherman.
HOW TO CATCH GREAT FISH
When I was a child, this art mystified me. Anytime my twin brother and I went down to the creek and catch some silver-eyed bass, we'd come back up disappointed and empty-handed. Of course, reeling in the legendary and agile silver-eyed bass IS quite a feat, not to mention for a couple of ignorant ten-year olds, but what I'm about to show you is a special trick that will make both reels and heads spin. With these five special techniques, you'll be like Saint Peter with his capsizing netful of fish.
My credentials? 15 years under my belt, and over 7,300 pounds of those slippery floppers have slithered down my gullet over the course of this time, all of which were caught by my own pole. Let's just leave it at that. (I've had so much of them to eat, I daresay I'm growin' my own scales!)
So prepare to have your mind blown:
1) Never fish in the daytime. The pupils in fishes' eyes are much more dilated than those of most of us mammals; it's a scientifically proven fact that they can take in more light than even a house-cat can at nighttime. In fact, that's what makes the water such a suitable habitat for these creatures, because if there weren't a light-refracting medium to diminish the sun's brilliance, these poor swimmers would go blind as a bat. If there's even a full moon out, don't even bother. To them it might as well be high noon.
2) Sing a song. Fish don't have ears-- if they did, they wouldn't go so deep, or their eardrums would burst! No, they sense vibration, not sound. Sound-waves have a negligible effect on the surface of the water, so hollering over to your fishing buddies won't be a problem. I always took a radio with me and had it going full blast-- no bass speakers, of course, because they'll notice THOSE vibrations. (Even I can feel 'em without my hearing aids!) The higher pitches are okay, but must not exceed 95 decibels. May want to bring a decibel meter-- I highly recommend it. They sell those for as cheap as $20 at Radio Shack. Anyway, singing will simply make you more relaxed, take your mind off the intensity of the hunt and off of how hard it is to reel those especially heavy, big ol', gaspin' flappin' floppers in. Guarantee it. Sing while reeling, and you'll bring home a blue whale. People will think you're Paul Bunyan!
3) Get a line that glows neon. Remember what I said about the fish's photosensitivity levels? Well, why do you think they jump out of the water? To breathe air?? My dimwitted friend thought so, but I gently corrected him: Fish don't breathe air. I said, "What do you think their gills are for?" Water molecules already contain oxygen in them; water travels through the gills and undergoes molecular separation in the lungs, which thereby expels upon compression the hydrogen in gaseous form (similar to our expulsion of carbon dioxide), as it is heated by the fish's body to undergo state change as well. That explains the bubbles you see floating up to the surface; those little suckers down there are breathing. ANYWAY, I digress. Get a neon line. Fish jump out of water because they like the sun's warmth and energy; and when you see them jump at night, it's because their photosensitive eyes can scarcely differentiate between sun and moon (and if there is no moon, you must be foolin' them with a flashlight, you moron!). Anyhow, a neon line will draw them in like moths to a porch light, or hungry mosquitoes to a big ol' drippin bag o' blood.
4) Wiggle your pole a lot, jerk it back and forth, etc. Be creative, have fun with it. Fish like lively prey. Don't think it'll make them miss when they go for the bite-- even if they do, they'll keep trying. Never in all my 15 years have I laid eyes on a lazy, obese fish. They have that over their bipedal descendants; they're very trim, and as a result they're not going to tire easily. Wouldn't you rather have a vibrant, nervous salmon than an aging, dull one? There's more protein in the former. And think about it this way: When you go hunting for birds, are you going to want to pick a decaying corpse of one up off the ground, take it home, and eat it? NO! You want to shoot the ones flying high in the sky! Where do you think we learned this natural, common-sense instinct from? Our aquatic ancestors.
5) And last but not least, don't ever give up. i once sat in a canoe for ten days without a nibble. I just waited and waited-- when suddenly, at last, a nibble came-- no, a GRAB, a YANK, a SEIZE! I applied the singing technique, and my eyes popped out as I saw the size of this whopper emerging from the water. I took it into town with me, newspapers took pictures from all over, and there was even a parade. It was 'bout as big as a bus. From that day forth, in that town and all over that western region in the state of Tennessee, I became eternally known as Whoppin' Willie, the Whopper Whipper. And all because I never gave up.
You can do it too.
Hope I could make you laugh, or at least grin.
My twin brother and I were laughing on the phone last night about how much BS I make up when I talk about stuff I know nothing about. I've matured to the point where I stop myself right as I'm starting a BS sentence and say, "K, honestly what I'm about to say is me pulling stuff outta my butt..." After the conversation I felt inspired to get on facebook and write about how to become a great fisherman.
HOW TO CATCH GREAT FISH
When I was a child, this art mystified me. Anytime my twin brother and I went down to the creek and catch some silver-eyed bass, we'd come back up disappointed and empty-handed. Of course, reeling in the legendary and agile silver-eyed bass IS quite a feat, not to mention for a couple of ignorant ten-year olds, but what I'm about to show you is a special trick that will make both reels and heads spin. With these five special techniques, you'll be like Saint Peter with his capsizing netful of fish.
My credentials? 15 years under my belt, and over 7,300 pounds of those slippery floppers have slithered down my gullet over the course of this time, all of which were caught by my own pole. Let's just leave it at that. (I've had so much of them to eat, I daresay I'm growin' my own scales!)
So prepare to have your mind blown:
1) Never fish in the daytime. The pupils in fishes' eyes are much more dilated than those of most of us mammals; it's a scientifically proven fact that they can take in more light than even a house-cat can at nighttime. In fact, that's what makes the water such a suitable habitat for these creatures, because if there weren't a light-refracting medium to diminish the sun's brilliance, these poor swimmers would go blind as a bat. If there's even a full moon out, don't even bother. To them it might as well be high noon.
2) Sing a song. Fish don't have ears-- if they did, they wouldn't go so deep, or their eardrums would burst! No, they sense vibration, not sound. Sound-waves have a negligible effect on the surface of the water, so hollering over to your fishing buddies won't be a problem. I always took a radio with me and had it going full blast-- no bass speakers, of course, because they'll notice THOSE vibrations. (Even I can feel 'em without my hearing aids!) The higher pitches are okay, but must not exceed 95 decibels. May want to bring a decibel meter-- I highly recommend it. They sell those for as cheap as $20 at Radio Shack. Anyway, singing will simply make you more relaxed, take your mind off the intensity of the hunt and off of how hard it is to reel those especially heavy, big ol', gaspin' flappin' floppers in. Guarantee it. Sing while reeling, and you'll bring home a blue whale. People will think you're Paul Bunyan!
3) Get a line that glows neon. Remember what I said about the fish's photosensitivity levels? Well, why do you think they jump out of the water? To breathe air?? My dimwitted friend thought so, but I gently corrected him: Fish don't breathe air. I said, "What do you think their gills are for?" Water molecules already contain oxygen in them; water travels through the gills and undergoes molecular separation in the lungs, which thereby expels upon compression the hydrogen in gaseous form (similar to our expulsion of carbon dioxide), as it is heated by the fish's body to undergo state change as well. That explains the bubbles you see floating up to the surface; those little suckers down there are breathing. ANYWAY, I digress. Get a neon line. Fish jump out of water because they like the sun's warmth and energy; and when you see them jump at night, it's because their photosensitive eyes can scarcely differentiate between sun and moon (and if there is no moon, you must be foolin' them with a flashlight, you moron!). Anyhow, a neon line will draw them in like moths to a porch light, or hungry mosquitoes to a big ol' drippin bag o' blood.
4) Wiggle your pole a lot, jerk it back and forth, etc. Be creative, have fun with it. Fish like lively prey. Don't think it'll make them miss when they go for the bite-- even if they do, they'll keep trying. Never in all my 15 years have I laid eyes on a lazy, obese fish. They have that over their bipedal descendants; they're very trim, and as a result they're not going to tire easily. Wouldn't you rather have a vibrant, nervous salmon than an aging, dull one? There's more protein in the former. And think about it this way: When you go hunting for birds, are you going to want to pick a decaying corpse of one up off the ground, take it home, and eat it? NO! You want to shoot the ones flying high in the sky! Where do you think we learned this natural, common-sense instinct from? Our aquatic ancestors.
5) And last but not least, don't ever give up. i once sat in a canoe for ten days without a nibble. I just waited and waited-- when suddenly, at last, a nibble came-- no, a GRAB, a YANK, a SEIZE! I applied the singing technique, and my eyes popped out as I saw the size of this whopper emerging from the water. I took it into town with me, newspapers took pictures from all over, and there was even a parade. It was 'bout as big as a bus. From that day forth, in that town and all over that western region in the state of Tennessee, I became eternally known as Whoppin' Willie, the Whopper Whipper. And all because I never gave up.
You can do it too.
Hope I could make you laugh, or at least grin.
