Friday, July 31, 2009
Move Over Carolyn, I'm Ready!
I'm not saying the LPGA Tour is desperate in the wake of shit-canning Commish Carolyn Bivens in mid-season, but somebody tipped me off to the fact that the LPGA has a page where you can submit a RESUME FOR THE JOB on their website.
Hold on, I'm putting the finishing touches on mine. You should have it by close of business. I'll be waiting for that call to set up my follow up interview.
John Daly: pants act.
Shoots a cool 88 on Friday at the Grand Blanc Pitch N' Putt, which includes a 51 on the front!
Here's Daly's card for Round 2:
1 quint, (on a par 5 no less)
1 quad on a par3
Oh yeah, he was also seen partying at Kid Rock's place this week. Fabulous. Tim Finchem, call your office.
One last golf snicky for your weekend, somebody send me this cute lil' TwitPic of my girls Paula Creamer and Morgan Pressel at the Evian Masters. Oowww. Sweet.
Posted by Czabe at 5:26 PM No comments:
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Even though there's a recession going on and un-employment is steaming toward double-digits, thank God America can still obsess about things that are utterly trivial.
Apparently, anti-cankle fitness regimes and products are all the rage. For those that don't know what "cankle" is, it's when a person's calf just melts right into their ankle, without any definition.
I believe - although I may be proven wrong - that John Madden gave the world this term, or at least injected it into the pop culture. Writes a message board poster to a Fanhouse article about the "Ground Zero" man with "cankles" Jeff Zgonina...
My favorite Madden moment is when he was spending ten minutes explaining to Pat Summerall what "cankles" were. He started drawing circles around Zgonina's legs. "Ya see... you've got your calf and BOOM! it just goes straight into the foot. It's a calf and an ankle. Cankle. Boom!"
Now plenty of football players have cankles. That much you expect. But what about women? And what can you do about them?
Well, I thought that it was a simple matter of losing some weight, you water buffaloes! But not... so... fast!
Ever seen a SIZE ZERO woman with cankles?
Well... BOOM! Now you have!
Personally, I'm not too worried about my cankles. For one, "teacher arms" and "FUPA's" are much more of a concern on a lady, if you ask me. Also, the dreaded "drawstring upper lip" from too much smoking is quite the turn off.
Posted by Czabe at 6:03 PM 3 comments:
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
"Now Batting For the Boston Dandies...."
Sometimes, other people's stuff is just so good, there's no point in trying to steal it, re-write it, or otherwise riff on it.
Just enjoy it.
Me, I'm taking the day off, bitches.
From What Would Tyler Durden Do?..... the writers take on the 51st Hollywood Stars celebrity softball game at Dodger Stadium....
The biggest “stars” on hand were Joel Madden, Rob Lowe and Larry King. Whats that? Yes, yes that’s correct. Larry King. He even went to the plate and somehow his ancient brittle bones didn’t explode into dust when he swung the bat.
Him being there made it look like a reunion game from back before black people were allowed to play. If he had a rookie card it would just been a drawing because pictures were still considered the dark arts, and he’d have mutton chop sideburns and one of those big mustaches that curl up at the end. And it would have been for some insane sounding team that you’ve never fucking heard of. The Boston Dandies, or the Rochester Rowderfoots, or some shit like that.
Posted by Czabe at 6:29 PM No comments:
Monday, July 27, 2009
This Was Purely Idiotic. Sorry.
Look, I'm sorry Vernon Forrest is dead. But sometimes you just have to shake your head.
And trust me when I say that I am not in any way claming Forrest "deserved it."
As Clint Eastwood said in his Oscar winning film “The Unforgiven” just before he shoots Gene Hackman- “Deserving ain’t got nothing to do with it”.
Here's the recap from the Atlanta Journal Constitution....
According to Atlanta Police Detective Lt. Keith Meadows, Forrest had stopped at a gas station on Whitehall Street around 11 p.m. Saturday night. With him was his 11-year-old godson, visiting from Texas.
As the boy went inside to use the bathroom and buy snacks, Forrest went to the rear of his Jaguar to add air to a low tire. It was then when a male suspect robbed him at gunpoint and fled.
Forrest, reportedly armed, chased after the man a short distance, to an area near McDaniel and Fulton streets. Shots were exchanged, police said. Giving up the chase, and turning to return to the gas station, Forrest was shot seven to eight times in the back, according to police.
Police say the shooter and a second suspect left in a red Monte Carlo.
“Vernon always was the type of guy who wasn’t going to let anybody take anything from him,” Watson said. “He would give you the shirt off his back, but if you tried to take something from him, he was going to fight you for it.”
Atlanta’s other boxing champion, Evander Holyfield, recalled a story from the 1992 Olympics. When a thief snatched the cap from atop his head, Forrest ran after him through the streets of Barcelona. “Chased him about a half a mile. Got his hat back. And got in a few punches too,” said Holyfield, chuckling at the memory from another place, another time.
REACT: Ha, ha. Good times, good times. Of course, that same "chase and punch" policy can get you killed. And - I hate to be a nag here - if you extend that policy to "chase and shoot" then you can end up killing innocent bystanders.
Ah. Details. Never mind.
I wonder if Forrest had managed to gun down his attacker a block from the station, while shooting him in the back? Would this be considered "self-defense?"
I am certainly not against gun ownership. But this ain't the Wild West anymore. And there's always a bigger tough guy with a longer rap sheet ready to pop your ass while jumping out of the shadows.
Posted by Czabe at 4:58 PM 2 comments:
Friday, July 24, 2009
Oh.... My... Gawd!
Why in the HELL didn't anybody tell me about this?
Natalie Gulbis, Dara Torres, AND Erin Andrews at the ESPY's, all dressed to kill?
WHY DID YOU PEOPLE HIDE THIS FROM ME!!!!!!
The mind reels with the possibilities. My world, may never be the same. Enjoy.
Posted by Czabe at 5:23 PM 2 comments:
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Stupid Is, As Stupid Does
Talk about a double-double! Police AND doctors, oh my!
Barack "The Leg Tingler" Obama managed to ridiculously slander two of the most admired professions in one ill-conceived press conference meant to leverage his impatience over lanquishing health care reform in Congress.
Good work, Barry.
Can we all pause for a moment to consider this much: our president admits "I don't know all the facts" but then goes on to call some of our men in blue "stupid."
What about this guy's supposedly supreme "temperament" and "judgment?"
At least he let slip with the real truth: he'll always throw in with a brother, circumstances be damned!
Reverend Jeremiah Wright, where you at?
Smack! HI FIVE!
Not only is this racially trigger haired professor a complete joke, but he happened to accuse the only cop on the beat who personally tried to save Reggie Lewis' life!
The Cambridge cop prominent Harvard University professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. claims is a racist gave a dying Reggie Lewis mouth-to-mouth resuscitation in a desperate bid to save the Celtics [team stats] superstar’s life 16 years ago Monday.
“I wasn’t working on Reggie Lewis the basketball star. I wasn’t working on a black man. I was working on another human being,” Sgt. James Crowley, in an exclusive interview with the Herald, said of the forward’s fatal heart attack July 27, 1993, at age 27 during an off-season practice at Brandeis University, where Crowley was a campus police officer.
Ha! Good job, mom jeans! Anything more you'd like to say?
Oh yeah, there's those evil doctors who are looking to swap out your kid's tonsils so they can make their Lexus payments!
(That's a great anecdote! So true, too! I had that happen to me with my kids the other day!
I'm like: "Soooo... whattya think, doc?"
He looks at his Rolex, puts on his golf shoes, and tries to sell my 6-year old a tonsilectomy, implants, and full course of collagen and botox.
Fucking doctors. What assholes they all are. It's politicians I trust! We need another Czar!)
Holy, christ! So THIS is what the 150-day-wonder lets come shooting out of his mouth when the magic teleprompter isn't spewing out focus-group-tested whoppers?
No wonder he never goes anywhere without TOTUS. It's going to be a long, long, four years for him to keep his REAL feelings hidden from the public.
But just remember. Bush was the stupid one. This guy's brilliant.
UPDATE: An even better point I found here at JustOneMinute.com....
CHANGING TIMES: Between the Ricci case in New Haven and the stupid Cambridge cops, we have come a long way from 9/11 and the national admiration for New York's Finest and Bravest. Of course, by "we" I don't mean all of "we", just the usual suspects of the left and (pardon my redundancy) the media.
Posted by Czabe at 4:27 PM 6 comments:
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
The Mother of All Grudges
I was talking yesterday on the air about men who hold grudges against other men. In short, how long should you hold them, what merits a grudge, what is excusable after a reasonable amount of time, and what categories of transgressions are utterly inexcusable.
This was in wake of my admission that a variety of golf buddies/associates/tournament participants who had gained status on my supreme "shit list" had been given blanket amnesty.
Life it too short, real world concerns too many, and the transgressions over stupid golf trips and tournaments past too petty.
So I started thinking about sports "grudges" that once were, or perhaps still remain. A few off the top of my head include ....
Terry Bradshaw's estrangement from the Steelers.
Ditto Sam Huff with the Giants.
Gary McCord and the Masters.
USA Silver medals sitting in that Swiss vault
The city of Baltimore and the Colts/Irsay
Any MLB bean ball/strike breaker
And then there was this beauty from my guy Mike Kubacheck
In all my adult life, there are only 2 people that I was friends with where I eventually decided that the friendship wasn't worth the baggage that came with them..... the first one, though, finally turned because of football...... this guy Bob was a Philly fan, and he had a temper (go figure!!)..
We (wife and I) used to socialize with him and his wife, but increasingly we felt like we had to tiptoe around Bob and his temper, and it got to be less fun hanging with them..... so, we were over at their house watching the Skins-Eagles game, and I made the offhand comment that Andre Waters was a dirty player......
Bob EXPLODED, started yelling about what bull that was, and said that "only people who know nothing about football, or ONLY watch Monday Night Football, would say that", referencing all the crap that Dierdorf used to give Waters......
So, I said I felt it was well known that Waters took cheap shots when he could, he yelled "OK..... NAME FIVE TIMES WHERE HE CHEAPSHOTTED SOMEONE!!!!!"...... not 1, or 2, but 5 times, I was supposed to name...... because I usually only watched the Redskins, I could only name the 2 hits on Doug Williams, plus a hit on Jim Everett......
So he took that as a victory and that I didn't know what I was talking about.... that was the last time I ever saw him.....
REACT: And probably a good idea. Wow. They didn't call him Andre "The Honest Hit" Waters, did they?
Posted by Czabe at 5:09 PM 2 comments:
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Those Horse Vasectomies Aren't Going To Pay For Themselves!
If you only read one article all year, please read this one. Hilarity, mixed with ineptitude, slathered in total waste.
From Mark Steyn of the National Review Online....
"On Friday July 17, the House of Representatives met to debate . . . Go on, take a guess: Health care? The cap-and-tax racket? Stimulus Two? No, none of the above. Don’t worry, they’re still spending your money. Wild horses couldn’t stop them doing that.
And, as a matter of fact, that’s the correct answer: wild horses. On Friday, the House voted on the Restore Our American Mustangs Act — or ROAM. Like all acronymically cute legislation, its name bears little relation to what it actually does: It’s not about “restoring” mustangs. The federal Bureau of Land Management aims for a manageable population of 27,000 wild mustangs. Currently, there are 36,000, and the population doubles every four or five years.
To prevent things getting even more out of hand, the BLM keeps another 30,000 mustangs in holding pens — or, if you prefer, managed-care facilities. That’s to say, under federal management, one in every two “wild” horses now lives in government housing. The American mustang population is road-testing the impending demographic profile of Japan and Germany: one worker for every retiree."
REACT: So, uh, we can't shoot horses? Why not? If they become pests, shoot 'em, skin 'em, fry 'em up on the grill! Absent that, however, I would like to see Pelosi condom a stallion. Just sayin'....
Posted by Czabe at 4:25 AM 2 comments:
Monday, July 20, 2009
This Will Ruin It Forever. Great.
This one, went waaaaaayyyy over the line.
Are you kidding me?
A secretly taped video of ESPN reporter Erin Andrews in her hotel room, using a “reversed peephole” camera, showing her buck naked curling her hair?
When I got the text message from a friend I was skeptical. Yeah, right. Naked? Video?
Of course I clicked the link he sent, and quickly found that the material had been deleted. I then started surfing around for more info.
Only then did I find out the full scope of what had happened. Her lawyers were all over it, and any website daring to post the video was in full retreat.
So I'm glad I haven't seen it, and I am not going to see it. Not because I fear her lawyers. Because it's wrong. And even if the “damage is done” so to speak, I feel like me watching the video contributes to the violation of Ms. Andrews and her privacy.
This doesn't mean that I still don't think Andrews is the smokin' hot embodiment of the ultimate “sports girlfriend.” This doesn't mean that a few choice Andrews pictures (clothed, while reporting for ESPN) are coming off of my iPhone.
I mean, I still like Andrews for the following 3 reasons, and yes, IN ORDER.
2.She has a fun personality.
3.She knows sports.
But wrong is wrong. Period. This was a fucking crime, perpetrated by an idiot who should go to jail for at least a year, minimum.
Good job, asshole. Why not just kidnap her like the Taliban? Christ!
I can only imagine how creeped out Andrews was becoming over the last few years at every event she covered. Celebrity in America is a rocketship ride, especially for those who are good looking. You may not WANT to be tabloid fodder, but ultimately you don't have any say over that.
If you are her and refuse to take pictures with fans at an airport, you are a bitch. If you are too friendly with somebody they might just go Joe Namath and try to slip their tongue past the goalie.
I suspect Andrews just wanted to get better at her job, maybe move up the ranks, and hopefully get paid more money. I once speculated that she might make as much as $1 million a year from ESPN. (Personally, she deserves it, but that's just me!)
I was laughed at by people who know ESPN and the TV business. She makes less than $200,000 most insisted. Which is still a great salary for a fun job with no heavy lifting. But who the hell wants to be virtually stalked at that price point?
Now Andrews is going to have to live with the thought of even more creepy intrusion of privacy issues. If you can't trust a high end hotel's peephole not serving as a voyuer's Trojan horse, then what can you trust? Airport luggage handlers groping her underwear? Restaurant waiters licking her utensils? Don't snicker at the thought. Some douchebag just reversed her hotel room peephole and got video to go viral on the internet.
She might even quit over this thing.
Maybe not soon, or next year, but quietly, when her contract runs out. Remember Melissa Stark suddenly up and leaving Monday Night Football? I bet she has some stories.
And of course, regular red blooded guys like you and me will take the brunt of the blame. If only radio hosts didn't make constant mention of her looks. If only we respected her for the journalism she provided, and not our own titillation. If only we stopped Google searching her pictures.
The difference is that I know the line of what's fair game, and what's not. Pictures of Erin in a tight sweater and high heels doing sidelines of a Big Ten hoop game. Fair game. If there were video of her getting smashed at a strip club and doing a dance in her underwear (there's not, so stop searching) that would be fair game.
This wasn't even close. Creepy. Criminal. Despicable.
Great work, asshole. You've ruined the whole concept of even having hot sideline reporters in sports for maybe ever. Hope your happy.
Posted by Czabe at 5:14 AM 5 comments:
Friday, July 17, 2009
Go Ahead, Make My Day
If the Democrats ever wanted to end themselves as a viable party in America, then they should just go ahead and push through this insane bit of health care "reform" and be done with themselves.
"Except as provided in this paragraph, the individual health insurance issuer offering such coverage does not enroll any individual in such coverage if the first effective date of coverage is on or after the first day" of the year the legislation becomes law.
So we can all keep our coverage, just as promised — with, of course, exceptions: Those who currently have private individual coverage won't be able to change it. Nor will those who leave a company to work for themselves be free to buy individual plans from private carriers.
REACT: I mean, on the one hand, NO, I do not want this to become the law of the land in Amerika. It's fucking insane! It would be insane if you suddenly couldn't buy your own CAR insurance from a company going forward, much less your health insurance.
On the other hand, can you imagine the chaos and rage that would break out when the Obamabots who simply voted "Hope and Change" - but then quickly went back to ignoring how bad laws get made in this country - find out they can't see Dr. Goldbaum anymore?
It would be like political hari kari. Bloody as hell, and hard to watch, but hey I'm all for it, Democrats!
Come on, do it! Whattya afraid of, pussies?
In Nancy Pelosi you trust.
Posted by Czabe at 1:29 PM 2 comments:
Thursday, July 16, 2009
A 42 Mile Per Hour Generous Called "Strike"
Upon further review, Obama's first pitch was uber-sissy.
That doesn't mean much unto itself. The dude's hoop game is probably better than every other ex-POTUS save for Grover Cleveland - who I'm told was a nasty power forward that could shoot lefty hook shots and had a killer crossover.
What's even weaker, however, is the media fawning. I love this exact headline: "President Gets Ball To the Plate On the Fly."
To quote Chris Rock: "Wathca wanna cookie?! You're supposed to do that!"
The gold standard for presidential first pitches, remains, and will likely never be matched, by the awesome strike gunned in by George W. Bush in the immediate aftermath of 9/11.
This blog post and accompanying video is worth the read, and the watch.
I remember how on edge I was just watching that moment, wondering if it was even possible for the Secret Service to properly secure a building of that size, and whether another awful suprise was in store.
I gotta believe Bush's heart was pounding too. Steeeee-rike!
As for Obama? Eh. You didn't crap your pants. Now, is it possible for you to lay low a while, and not pop up at every big national media event? You do have 3.5 more years in this gig, you know?
Posted by Czabe at 1:59 PM 2 comments:
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
"It's A High, High, High.... Can of Corn!"
Very much looking forward to the 17th annual Bob and Brian Open golf tournament on August 7th at Silver Spring CC in Menomonee Falls, WI.
As you may remember, I once stupidly bragged that I could successfully kick 5 out of 10 penalty kicks past a world class soccer goalkeeper.
Fail. I hit 4. (Note: Was wearing hiking boots instead of soccer shoes. All I had for traction...)
This year, I was pondering the unique range at Silver Spring. A neat rectangular grid that stretches out 290 yards from the double-tiered tee area, down to a mammoth mesh monster of a fence to keep long hitters from terrorizing players down on the low lying holes beyond.
If I stood at the bottom with a baseball glove, could I successfully track and catch a 3-wood or driver from somebody up top?
Might I DIE from a gruesome head wound on a mis-judged pop-up?
I mean, how hard can it be, right? It would only be the equivalent of an 870 foot baseball blast!
As you can see courtesy of the good folks at Google Maps, it would only be like catching a ball that has been hit clean out of Yankee Stadium, and half way to the Bronx.
Stay tuned, and make sure your team is entered this year. I'll see you there with a hard-hat on!
Posted by Czabe at 12:19 PM 3 comments:
Monday, July 13, 2009
NFL Suspends Favre..... (Not).
From the "mmmmm... good point" Department....
From libertarian blogger/Frenemy of Czabe: Skip Oliva...
Random thought: Why doesn't Goodell suspend Brett Favre for the 2009 season? Clearly, Favre has repeatedly manipulated league procedures and a number of franchises for his own benefit to the detriment of the league's integrity. If, as Goodell and his media enablers maintain, the role of the commissioner is to act in the "interests of the game" -- whatever that means -- then he should intervene and put an end to Favre's fraudulent retirement-unretirement cycle. Suspend his ass now and force everyone to move on.
(No, of course I'm not serious, but if you're going to suspend players "indefinitely" for off-field acts, then I'd like to know why a player who has repeatedly tampered with multiple franchises gets a pass.)
REACT: I agree 100%. Favre has clearly manipulated the process to in effect gain un-deserved free agency. If the NFL were a fantasy league, people would be screaming. But since owners just care about cashing $$$$$, they look the other way. Just like when the Celtics got Garnett and the Lakers got Gasol, these were moves that would have disintegrated most fantasy leagues with their blatant unfairness. But since they were part of a larger leaguewide whoring out for money and ratings, they went unchecked. Wheeeee!
Posted by Czabe at 4:14 PM 4 comments:
Sunday, July 12, 2009
LPGA Tour Posts Job Opening
This just in...
BETHLEHEM, Pa. – The LPGA’s Board of Directors is actively seeking an interim commissioner from outside the organization to run its tour while the board launches a more thorough search for a successor to Carolyn Bivens, a tour player director said Sunday at the U.S. Women’s Open.
As one of just a handful of barely measurable men (or women) who now watch the LPGA Tour on a regular basis during the season, I think I have some ideas on how to keep the tour relevant.
And by "relevant" I mean... alive.
Look, getting back the SEVEN events that Bivens managed to burn to the ground with her heavy-handed-who-do-you-think-you-are approach, is going to take YEARS. But let's start with what we can start with.
1. All HD, all the time. Nothing is death quite like SD sports these days, so whatever costs incurred here, just write the check.
2. Ban long pants when the weather is 65 degrees and above. Oh, is that sexist? Sorry. It's not. It's just a dress code. The men don't get to wear shorts (or tank tops like the ladies) for a simple reason. It would look like crap. The PGA Tour believes in presenting a "professional" look. The LPGA needs the same. Androgynous short-haired women wearing parachute pant trousers in July in baseball caps ain't gonna cut it.
3. Limit the # of Players from a single country. Yeah, this IS targeted at South Korea, which now provides some 40% of the LPGA. Let's use that current 40% going forward. And if Sweden gets super-good, then they too would hit the wall at 40%, as would American players. You wanna call this racist? Go tell that to the Japanese baseball leagues and the Canadian Football leagues which limit foreign players.
4. Push the American stars like Paula Creamer (above) like crazy. Make no apologies. Get them on Dancing With the Stars, exhibition matches, and whatever else gets the names and faces into the pop culture bloodstream.
5. Know your place. At the end of whatever you do, you gotta remember you are a nice little "niche" league. Embrace the "mom and pop" aspects of the Tour and don't ever think you will approach PGA Tour rights fees, attendance, or prize money.
There. Now where do I send my resume?
Posted by Czabe at 6:04 PM 10 comments:
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Yo, Foul! I Got It.... Hold Up!
I remember seeing this about 5 years ago, but it is still DAMN funny today. And given the fact that if had never seen it before, then "it's NEW TO YOU!" So enjoy this perfect summer diddy, as you take out to the pickup lots in your 'hood and play the game America made great!*
*Until greasy Euros starting shooting, passing, and moving without the ball better than us while we just worked on our crossovers and dunks.
(Hat Tip: Brian F. my ace caller on FSR and 980!)
Posted by Czabe at 10:53 AM 1 comment:
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Obama Plays Media Keep Away
I can only imagine if Bush had done this.
When hyper-liberal Dana Milbank of the Washington Post realizes that The Big O's recent presser was a sham of a farce of a puppet show, then you know the entire political mechanism of media watch-doggery has gone belly up for a vigorous scratch and a nap.
Wrote Milbank: "The use of planted questioners is a no-no at presidential news conferences, because it sends a message to the world -- Iran included -- that the American press isn't as free as advertised. But yesterday wasn't so much a news conference as it was a taping of a new daytime drama, "The Obama Show."
And because this is a "sports" site, and you guys get all twisted in a knot when politics creeps in, read this excellent parallel to Obama slamming, jamming, and strut-walking his way up and down the court.
Wrote Joseph Curl of the Washington Times: "His opponents, the White House press corps, looked at times like the Washington Generals, known for their long-running losing streak against the invincible Harlem Globetrotters. The president put on a clinic of fancy dribbling just like Curly Neal, and even played Meadowlark Lemon to the Huffington Post's Nico Pitney, when he asked the Internet site "reporter" to lob up an alley-oop question so he could slam-dunk the answer."
And really, this isn't an anti-Obama entry today, it's a virulently anti-MEDIA entry. I mean, seriously, why is there so much "laughter" at issues of genuine importance by a class of media that is supposed to be highly skeptical and not easily impressed?
Don't answer that one. I already know.
I wonder if the press corp will tire of the president they helped carry across the finish line in November. I wonder if he will somehow betray them in a way that is deemed inexcusable. I wonder if even they, will get sick of his act.
Kush-lash, Kush-lash... Kush-lash, kushlash kushlash!
In the meantime, I suppose it's enough for the masses to get their bread and circuses a great phrase that is summarized nicely here from the folks at Wikipedia.
This phrase originates in Satire X of the Roman poet Juvenal (c 200). In context, the Latin phrase panis et circenses (bread and circuses) is given as the only remaining cares of a Roman populace which has given up its birthright of political involvement. Here Juvenal displays his contempt for the declining heroism of his contemporary Romans.:
… Already long ago, from when we sold our vote to no man, the People have abdicated our duties; for the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses
Posted by Czabe at 10:08 AM 2 comments:
Friday, July 3, 2009
Just got back from vacation in the OBX. Man, that place is one of God's most awesome creations. Please don't tell too many people. Some, okay.
Anyhow, here's some video and pics of my fishing trip with by Big Bro Jimbo! Bro is the best fisherman I've ever known, and my gawd does he LOVE IT!
He's been going off-shore for tuna/dolphin/marlin for years. I haven't been out there in like a decade, and he finally bugged me hard enough to get me to commit.
Plus, he paid for the whole charter himself, which means two things.
a. Lawyer bizness is good - still...
b. He's a very generous brother....
So on board we climb the good ol' Point Runner out of Oregon Inlet at 5-dark-thirty in the morning.
It's a nice big boat, good seating inside, a place to lay down underneath. We've got a full 1 1/2 hour slug out to the fishing grounds, and start feeling uneasy about, oh, 20 minutes into an ALL-DAY trip!
I also didn't take any motion sickness pills before hand, because, well, I'm stupid. I thought that my daily horrific intake of junk food had given me an "iron stomach" that could withstand the constant bobbing on the deep sea.
Yeah, not so much.
I end up gently sipping a water when I felt my stomach was getting some "traction" on the open water, and it comes roaring back up in the ship's galley about 10 minutes later.
While I didn't claim an "at sea road win" on the ol' "Galley Maid" toilet with a duece, it was still an accomplishment.
The captain, "Danny", was a genial sort. Much more so than most boat captains. I spent a little bit of time chatting with him up top. Over the years, I've found that you can pretty much ask a captain anything you want, and he'll give you an answer.
They just aren't going to talk with you.
Which is fine. That's what I do for a living. They fish.
And fish they did. The video you see is of First Mate "Greg" hauling in my dolphin (Mahi Mahi). The only part of this exercise that I was needed for was about 5 minutes of reeling, and then posing for a picture.
But my bro, he just eats it all up. I spent multiple sessions lying down inside, if for no other reason than to make 4 p.m. come faster. Jim was constantly on the back boat deck, scanning the sea with his eyes.
A true fisherman's fisherman.
Well, I think it's safe to say I've done my last tuna/marlin trip on deep water. I still like fishing, but would rather keep it closer to shore, where you can actually see the coastline faintly in the distance, and the waves aren't turning your gut into an amusement park.
Once I got home, I used the classic Family Guy line on my wife: "Hey, (Lois), I just got back from a day of sitting around drinking beer, fishing, farting on a boat with the guys.... How 'bout a little 'me' time?"
Posted by Czabe at 3:25 PM 2 comments:
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