Last week I took my daughter Jen out fishing with me. We always have a good time, and for the most part she seems to bring me good luck. Most probably because she has such a positive attitude most of the time, as opposed to my rather gloomy outlook on life. We had to deal with those consarn horseflies again, but I got my revenge on a fair number of them. If they dare to come into the cabin and up against that side window, they're dead meat. I like to knock them down with the hose too. I just wish it had about ten times the pressure so that when I hit them with it, it knocked their little mean heads off. I read years ago about a guy in England who liked hunting so much that he loaded his shotgun shells with dust so he could shoot butterflies. I don't like that idea so much, but blasting horseflies would be grand fun. Of course I wouldn't be getting any fishing done if I had some of those dust laden shells.
As you can see, we had a fairly good day, filling up both bags pretty much to the top. We had a lot of pinks-992 lbs worth as well as 555 lbs of chums and a few cohos and a sockeye. It was a lot of fun and pretty profitable too. Yesterday I went out to the same place by myself and I couldn't buy a fish. It looked like a desert on the video sounder. Guess I'll have to scarf up Jen again so I can salvage the season.
While we were in the cabin taking a break, I happened to mention to Jen that I had just passed gas. She said she could smell it, but I know she couldn't. I was wearing my rain pants, which are multi-purpose. Not only do they keep out water, fish guts, blood and other unwanted and undesirable material, they keep in things like hot intestinal gasses. It started me thinking about marketing rain pants with a special compartment to contain farts- a toot bladder, if you will. If you happened to be at a social function and were just in from fishing and had your rain pants on still, you could pass gas with complete comfort knowing that no offensive smells would escape. Of course you would have to install a valve to release the offensive gasses or over time the lighter than air gas would cause your rain gear to start to rise like a loaf of fresh bread. If you happened to be in a place where you forced to speak to some pompous buffoon, you could always reach down, open the valve and look innocent while the pent up gasses assaulted the dolt until he would be forced to leave. I'll probably have to get in touch with the good folks at Grunden's, the makers of quality rain gear with my latest idea. No doubt folks throughout the fishing industry will be clamoring for a pair.