I Am Not Hamlet

I attended the "Ultimate Fishing Show" today (curiously, it won't be the last) in Novi, Michigan.  Pro angler Kevin Vandam was there to share his insights and answer questions from the audience.  I had no interest in hearing his presentation, but if I did go here are some questions I thought I'd ask: (Think Carl from Caddyshack while reading these) Kevin, I've killed a few men in my lifetime and sometimes used the corpses' fingers for bait.  Do you see anything creepy about eating fish caught with those fingers? Kevin, I've got a cat problem.  So I caught five of them one day, put them in a bag, attached a couple of rocks to the bag and dumped the bag overboard when I went out on the lake fishing.  I don't have a question, I'd just wanted to share. Kevin, the wife and I are having some trouble in the bedroom.  Do you have any tips to spice things up? Kevin, I like to catch a lot of fish when I fish, so I like to dump a five gallon bucket of ...

This is what pride in your children feels like ( in your case, dear reader, reads like.) On our recent trip to Arbutus Lake (see "Ah, Quasi Wilderness") Rhonwyn wanted to use the fishing rod and reel I gave to her for her fifth birthday last month. So we went down the slope from our campsite to the lake and practiced casting for awhile with a weighted plug on the end of the line. A day later I purchased some Fancy, Imported Crawlers (they were from Canada). When the time came to actually fish, Rhonwyn, in typical five-year-old girl fashion refused to bait the hook. OK, I think when I was her age I made my grandpa do the same thing. We cast a few times, lost some worms to weeds, logs, and nibbles, but received nothing for casting our worm out on the waters. We stopped because we had to finish packing up to leave, but I wanted to give her one more chance. After the packing was finished we drove a short way over to the boat launch. I, once again, did my dadly duty and hooked the...