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<snipped tale of the south rising again
Yeah, the battle of Atlanta…all that soft wood made one HELL of a burn-out…. just too damn funny!! … and not a turgid word in it…
Yeah, it reads like the "Letter of the Month" in the geriatric edition of Penthouse (prominently placed right across from the ads for "Sta-Hard Cream, now in Geezer Strength!" and a Mercedes dealer that offers quantify discounts)….by the by, I couldn’t look – what DID Phyllis Diller’s "spread" look like…next month, Bea Arthur and Janet Reno wrestle in Metamucil! <G TC, R – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -jeff
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and, as promised, the continuum: this is painful to relate, but integrity will prevail; and, besides, zimbo was there, and it won’t do to lie with him around.
Oh, lawdy, lawdy…and he had kids, too…well, maybe if you did him in SC, the prosecutors will fight over who gets to kill you long enough that you’ll be able to just go ahead and die of old age on the SOBs… TC, R …yep, I’m for the death penalty…and I wonder just how many shameless, graceless publicity-hound prosecutors seeking to feather a nest Mohammed can hold on his lap when they pull the switch…those who were with us on that day will hold their manhood, bar cards, and taxpayer-funded Steelcases cheap, to paraphrase…
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Oh, lawdy, lawdy…and he had kids, too…well, maybe if you did him in SC, … …yep, I’m for the death penalty…
You are SO unfunny. Why don’t you just prop up a photo of Jim Nabors and whack off instead of injecting your masturbatory and malevolent spew into a TR thread ? — Ken Fortenberry
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wayno writes:
(great report snipped) wayno (yeah, steve, it’s maudlin; but to some of us, it’s priceless.)
You bet your sweet ass it is priceless! Nice time, counselor. The claves out west can not, do not, compare to the NC brand of camaraderie and friendship. Glad to see ol’ Tom is up and about. But if he is, who dat hell is protectin’ us from all those electronic sigs and such? Dave
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… The claves out west can not, do not, compare …
True. — Ken Fortenberry
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and, as promised, the continuum:
<snipped nice TR Thanks to Wayno, Bob, and Wolfgang for the reports of debauchery and, well, some fishing. Keep ‘em coming. I appreciate you all spending the time to relate the experience. The reality of the gathering, however, will have to be left to the discretion of the reader. :) Good and strange tales, all. wayno (yeah, steve, it’s maudlin; but to some of us, it’s priceless.)
‘Sounds like "priceless" to me. — TL, Tim And we haven’t even heard Zimbo’s or Mr. Miller’s rebuttals yet.
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Having seen you at work maestro, I know that any failings were not due to a lack of competence. And you fish pretty good too. priceless TR, BTW – a real gem Peter Visit The Streamer Page at http://www.mountaincable.net/~pcharles/streamers/index.html
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The claves out west can not, do not, compare to the NC brand of camaraderie and friendship.
Maybe you should try camping with the Westerners sometime instead of hiding out in a cabin.
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rw writes: The claves out west can not, do not, compare to the NC brand of camaraderie and friendship. Maybe you should try camping with the Westerners sometime instead of hiding out in a cabin.
Hiding out in a cabin? Really? I was at the camp ground most every day. I wanted to fish with you, Bruce, Warren, and Willi. If it wasn’t for Paul and John, I wouldn’t have fished with any of you western dudes. For the first time ever at any of the many claves I’ve attended, I felt like there was a clique. Hell, I traveled 2400 miles only to fish with IJ, Charlie, and Jeff. And they traveled 200 miles to fish with me. Nothing wrong with that – I enjoyed their company – but it would have been nice to fish with someone who knew the area. Not complainin’, mind ya, just saying that you western dudes treat "outsiders" a little different than they are treated in NC. (However, the SJ clave was not that way – Bruce and others went out of their way to help/guide.) It is entrirely different at a NC clave, or a Penns or Maine Clave. BTW, did you invite me to fish? Did Willi.? Warren? Yeah, I didn’t think so. The camaraderie and friendship didn’t go all the way around at HF. I fished with my NC friends for 2 days (with the help of Paul and John), and the third day I opted to fish alone rather than join them again. No one else invited me to fish, nor invited them to fish. IJ was looking forward to fishing with Willi and perhaps picking up some tips. It didn’t hapen, at least not while I was there. Just observations, of course….. Dave
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Maybe you should try camping with the Westerners sometime …
Bring bail money, extra garbage bags and a disguise. You wouldn’t want to be associated with some of the "camping" that goes on in our National Forest campgrounds at a western ‘clave. — Ken Fortenberry
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Ken Fortenberry writes: Maybe you should try camping with the Westerners sometime … Bring bail money, extra garbage bags and a disguise. You wouldn’t want to be associated with some of the "camping" that goes on in our National Forest campgrounds at a western ‘clave. — Ken Fortenberry
In all fairness, it wasn’t anything like that. The night of the cook-out was a little loud, but there were no complaints from the host camper. Everyone’s campsite was clean and tidy. There was no need for police, bail money, or diguises. Dave
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- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – rw writes: The claves out west can not, do not, compare to the NC brand of camaraderie and friendship. Maybe you should try camping with the Westerners sometime instead of hiding out in a cabin. Hiding out in a cabin? Really?
Really. I was at the camp ground most every day.
Being "at the camp" occasionally is not the same thing as "camping." To put this in perspective, Dave, YOU are the one dissing the Western Claves as not having enough "comaradamie." You’re entitled to your opinion, of course, but some opinions are best left unstated, or at least not hung out in public. I’m not hearing any Western ROFFers dissing the Eastern claves, aside from the occasional good natured joke about the tiny fish. 
As I’ve made many good friends at the Western Claves over the past three years, and have fished with some of them many times, and have entertained some of them at my home, and have taken them fishing on my homewaters, your perception of "comaraderie" doesn’t have much in common with mine. I wanted to fish with you, Bruce, Warren, and Willi.
The fact is that we made our decisions about where to fish the next day while sitting around the campfire, just before going to bed. You weren’t consciously excluded. You just weren’t around. If it wasn’t for Paul and John, I wouldn’t have fished with any of you western dudes.
For the first time ever at any of the many claves I’ve attended, I felt like there was a clique. Hell, I traveled 2400 miles only to fish with IJ, Charlie, and Jeff. And they traveled 200 miles to fish with me. Nothing wrong with that – I enjoyed their company – but it would have been nice to fish with someone who knew the area. I want to state for the record my opinion that Warren did a heroic job at the HF Clave. I don’t think he fished more than a handful of hours, because he was so busy rowing his drift boat for others. He was fanatical in his dedication to get as many different people on float trips as possible. If you didn’t fish with Warren it wasn’t because he was part of a clique. It was more likely that you didn’t want to get photographed in the Gink boat. By the way, what’s so bad about fishing with Paul and John in their drift boats? Isn’t that enough comaraderie for you? I didn’t get to fish with Paul, which I regret, but I had a fine day with John and Bruce on the Madison, tagging along with Willi and George and Warren. That was comaradamie in my book. Not complainin’, mind ya,
No, of course not. You would never complain about a lack of comaradamie at Western claves. just saying that you western dudes treat "outsiders" a little different than they are treated in NC.
That’s probably true. For example, Warren invited JeffC to leave his cabin way down in Aston and stay at the campground in Warren’s huge, empty tent (which, by the way, was available for anyone to use). JeffC ended up staying in Warren’s camper. The tent remained unoccupied. (However, the SJ clave was not that way – Bruce and others went out of their way to help/guide.)
Unlike, for example, Warren, John, and Paul at HF? It is entrirely different at a NC clave, or a Penns or Maine Clave. BTW, did you invite me to fish?
What? You wanted to join me in my one-man pontoon boat? You wanted to come to the Bechler? Did Willi.? Warren? Yeah, I didn’t think so.
You simply weren’t there when spontaneous decisions were made around the campfire. And it’s outrageous that you’d accuse Warren of not making maximum effort to guide and row as many people as possible. The camaraderie and friendship didn’t go all the way around at HF.
No complaining, Dave. IJ was looking forward to fishing with Willi and perhaps picking up some tips.
Who wouldn’t? Did IJ think that Willi was going to seek him out? Maybe read his mind? Did IJ ask Willi to fish and did Willi refuse? Sheesh. It didn’t hapen, at least not while I was there.
One more time, Dave: You and IJ and Jeff Miller just weren’t there at the campfire during crunch time. Western Claves are different from Eastern Claves, IMO. They’re more spontaneous. I’ve only been to one Eastern Clave, coming all the way from California. It was a very pleasant experience, but I wasn’t barraged by offers to fish with others. Aside from the kindness of Walt, and the trip with Asadi and (incredibly) Fortenberry and Wolfgang, and fishing with Jim Bennett at Jurassic Park, I fished alone, and had a damn good time. I don’t recall you inviting me to fish at Waldo’s Spring Fling, and I’ve never held that against you until today.
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Maybe you should try camping with the Westerners sometime … Bring bail money, extra garbage bags and a disguise. You wouldn’t want to be associated with some of the "camping" that goes on in our National Forest campgrounds at a western ‘clave.
You are SO unfunny. Why don’t you just prop up a photo of Jim Nabors and whack off instead of injecting your masturbatory and malevolent spew into a TR thread ? HTH, R
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<snip
<more snippage Wolfgang, help me out here. Are they going for distance, duration or style points? –Stan (still a newbie at pissing contests)
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Hiding out in a cabin? Really? I was at the camp ground most every day. I wanted to fish with you, Bruce, Warren, and Willi. If it wasn’t for Paul and John, I wouldn’t have fished with any of you western dudes. For the first time ever at any of the many claves I’ve attended, I felt like there was a clique.
Dave, I’m sorry you were disappointed with the HF clave. I apologize for not being more outgoing. I would have loved to fish with you and/or the other easterners for that matter. I guess I had the feeling that the easterners wanted to fish with each other. Also, I guess I spent time trying to make sure that Kevin was having a good time. There were several westerners that I didn’t get to fish with either but I figured there was always next time. but it would have been nice to fish with someone who knew the area.
That left me out. The area was new to me too. BTW, did you invite me to fish? Did Willi.? Warren? Yeah, I didn’t think so. The camaraderie and friendship didn’t go all the way around at HF. I fished with my NC friends for 2 days (with the help of Paul and John), and the third day I opted to fish alone rather than join them again. No one else invited me to fish, nor invited them to fish. IJ was looking forward to fishing with Willi and perhaps picking up some tips. It didn’t hapen, at least not while I was there.
Well, crap, I wish I would have known you were going to fish by yourself. We sure would have asked you to go with us (Kevin and me). (Of course, we’re no Willi or Warren<G) I enjoyed everyone at the clave and would have liked to spent time fishing with each one but, in a short period of time, it’s kind of hard to get organized & accomplish what one would like. In fact, I’m not sure I ever got "invited" to fish with anyone. It just seems to "happen". I know one thing that went through my mind was to not "insert" myself into any drift boat fishing so that all those who wanted a chance to drift had the chance. This is why I brought a couple of pontoon boats. Give us another chance, Dave. If I could set up a clave here in Buffalo, I guarantee I’d lay on some camaraderie:) I’ve thought about trying to put together a Bighorn Mountain clave but the stream fishing here on the south end of the mountains is rather limited. Mostly lake fishing and long hikes. This just doesn’t seem like an area that would make a good clave. At least, it wouldn’t be similar to any of the claves I’ve attended. Snoop — —–= Posted via Newsfeeds.Com, Uncensored Usenet News =—– http://www.newsfeeds.com – The #1 Newsgroup Service in the World! —–== Over 80,000 Newsgroups – 16 Different Servers! =—–
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Ken Fortenberry writes: Bring bail money, extra garbage bags and a disguise. … In all fairness, it wasn’t anything like that. …
I’d like to think that my rants in this forum have had something to do with improving their "camping" behavior, but to tell ya the truth, it was probably the fines. 
— Ken Fortenberry
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rw writes: By the way, what’s so bad about fishing with Paul and John in their drift boats? Why do you always put words in peoples’ mouths, rw. Where did I say it was "bad" fishing with Paul and John? I *praise* them because they invited me to fish, something neither you, Warren, or Willi did.
Unfortunately for you, it’s been snowing hard for 12 hours and I have nothing better to do until it stops than respond to this incredible load of horsepucky. Your attitude astounds me, Dave. You’re coming across like a primadonna. You seem to think it’s your role to be catered to, courted, and guided, like some sort of semi-royal personage. You aren’t willing to camp with the rest of us, but you complain that you’re excluded. Weird. What did you expect? That we’d get on the cell phones in the morning for a conference call? If you feel like Western Claves lack a sufficient degree of comaraderie, feel free stay out East where you’re more comfortable. We’ll muddle through somehow. It is bad form, though, to insult the Clavemeister (Warren) who put so much energy into this, and to insult other attendees who found the comaraderie to be just fine.
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rw writes: By the way, what’s so bad about fishing with Paul and John in their drift boats?
Why do you always put words in peoples’ mouths, rw. Where did I say it was "bad" fishing with Paul and John? I *praise* them because they invited me to fish, something neither you, Warren, or Willi did. I found the HF clave to be a very big disappointment. There were not that many fish taken, they were relatively small, and only a few folks were catching them. But the biggest disappointment was the exclusion of some people from the plans. I didn’t go to HF to catch lots of big fish – I can stay home and catch big brookies and big salmon. I went because I was practically begged to go, and then I ended up never fishing with those I went to see. Ironic, huh? As far as Gehkre’s boat…. well, I’m glad that Paul and John were there. But there were days when Warren was not in the boat, days when Willi and Bruce and you weren’t in the boat. You simply weren’t there when spontaneous decisions were made around the campfire.
Ahhh, herein lies the difference: at a NC clave, if these "spontaneious decisions" were made, the non-attendees would have been notified and included post facto. And it’s outrageous that you’d accuse Warren of not making maximum effort to guide and row as many people as possible.
I saw Warren row Jeffie and Charlie. No one else. And you do not have to "row" to fish HF. I went off on my own on Wednesday my last day and caught fish. It would have been nice if Warren or others could have been with me. But, I wasn’t around when all the "spontaneity" was going down. Ya have watch out for all that spontaneity shit….. it happens, click, like that, and ya might get excluded. The camaraderie and friendship didn’t go all the way around at HF. No complaining, Dave.
Not complaining. It’s *fact*. Who wouldn’t? Did IJ think that Willi was going to seek him out? Maybe read his mind? Did IJ ask Willi to fish and did Willi refuse? Sheesh.
I was present when IJ asked Willi, and Willi said *sure*. Western Claves are different from Eastern Claves, IMO. They’re more spontaneous.
You misspelled "cliquish". Aside from the kindness of Walt, and the trip with Asadi and (incredibly) Fortenberry and Wolfgang, and fishing with Jim Bennett at Jurassic Park, I fished alone, and had a damn good time. I don’t recall you inviting me to fish at Waldo’s Spring Fling, and I’ve never held that against you until today.
Lesseeee…..Walt, Asadi, Fortenberry, Wolfie, and Jim B. went fishing with you. Well, without using my toes, I count five. That’s five more than I had at HF. And I wouldn’t have invited you to fish at the Spring Fling, for I too was a newbie, having never fished those waters. I was a follower, not a leader. The two leaders that I was fortunate enough to have at HF, Paul and John, had never fished that water and did an outstanding job with us "easterners". Dave
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i had planned to meet zimbo at early thirty on wed am for a partnered drive up to the smokies, but some damn judge had other ideas. thus, i head out thurs am, into heavy fog, but with high expectations: i had checked with my local smokies guru, and the streams were at normal heights; this happy news, combined with the prospect of overcast skies, made my heart fairly leap. the sun is your enemy in the freestone pocket water in the old north state–or it always has been; more later about that. around morganton, about halfway into a four hour trip, i saw a little miata up ahead on the interstate suddenly slow and pull to the shoulder of the interstate. i slowed my approach, and watched in growing anticipation as this gorgeous brunette unfolded from the aforesaid mazda, waving for me to stop; i complied. i got out, and walked slowly to the front of her car. our eyes locked for an instant, the electricity suddenly thick around us. she looked down, and i asked if i could be of assistance. yes, she said, her voice tight with anticipation. how far west are you going, she asked. all the way, darlin, i replied. she fairly lept into my jeep. she explained that she had run out of gas and money, and was trying to find a strange little dude with a mustache, curly hair, owl-like glasses, and a terrible yankee accent–he had promised her a grand and all the cheese she could eat in return for her appearance at something he called a "clave". immediately, i realized her peril. casually, i asked her what color mercedes was her favorite. she put her hand…well, she murmured "silver", and said, breathlessly, turn here. we were approaching the waynesville holiday inn exit. two hours later, i arose from, well, an amazing exercise in physical and emotional expansion, and headed for the jeep. as i closed the door, she said only two things, softly: first, this: you have …changed me; then, this: i want you to at least know my name–it’s lana… next installment at eleven. your friend in the old north state wayno
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wayno writes: as i closed the door, she said only two things, softly: first, this: you have …changed me; then, this: i want you to at least know my name–it’s lana..
I certainly hope you went immediately to the nearest medical facility and got all the necessary shots. I gotta watch out for you all the time……. Louie [who wishes he could have joined ya, but had better things to do.....d;o) ]
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next installment at eleven. your friend in the old north state wayno
I wait with baited breath (bin eatin’ anchovies) By the way, you’re a cruel sumnabitch to break poor Wolfie’s heart that way. From what I hear, he hasn’t been laid since Wisconsin discovered cheese. Peter Visit The Streamer Page at http://www.mountaincable.net/~pcharles/streamers/index.html
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i had planned to meet zimbo at early thirty on wed am for a partnered drive up to the smokies, but some damn judge had other ideas. thus, i head out thurs am, into heavy fog, but with high expectations: i had checked with my local smokies guru, and the streams were at normal heights; this happy news, combined with the prospect of overcast skies, made my heart fairly leap. the sun is your enemy in the freestone pocket water in the old north state–or it always has been; more later about that.
<snipped rest of, er, TR? I must admit that the best factual recollection (read: BS) has come from this anti-clave. Must be the NC air. Great entertainment for us who stayed home and raked leaves. — TL, Tim
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Not that there were any lies told here, but in case there weren’t, there was a big article on "Lana" in the Charlotte Tribune about a month ago and the wonderful success of the transgender operation. — Wayne To Fish is Human…To Release Divine!
(honest your honor, it couldn’t have been ME!! snipped) – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – next installment at eleven. your friend in the old north state wayno
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<snipped tale of the south rising again just too damn funny!! … and not a turgid word in it… jeff
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i had planned to meet zimbo at early thirty on wed am for a partnered drive up to the smokies, but some damn judge had other ideas. thus, i head out thurs am, into heavy fog, but with high expectations: i had checked with my local smokies guru, and the streams were at normal heights; this happy news, combined with the prospect of overcast skies, made my heart fairly leap. the sun is your enemy in the freestone pocket water in the old north state–or it always has been; more later about that.
and, as promised, the continuum: this is painful to relate, but integrity will prevail; and, besides, zimbo was there, and it won’t do to lie with him around. i fished snowbird creek in the "hatchery supported" section on the afternoon of my arrival, under a canopy of thick clouds, and didn’t catch one fish. first time for that, ever, on that creek. in casting about for excuses, i have come up with the following: 1. the creek hadn’t been stocked in a long time, and the fish had been taken out, or never put in the section we fished; 2. the drastic change in weather from wednesday’s clear, warmer status had put the fish off the feed. 3. absolutely nothing was coming off the water, except a few tiny (i mean barely visible) midges, so the trout were sulking; 4 the , um, aura of lana was still on or about my body, and the fish were simply stunned. anyone got any ideas? garden variety incompetence is not an acceptable suggestion. oh, well, back to the cabin downstream, where zimbo and i fished a short stretch just below our digs. some excitement ensued when a very large brown swirled at my dayglo indicator, his back out of the water. we threw everything save a blasting cap at his home thereafter, but nada. i saw tom brown emerge out on the front porch with a glass in his hand, and the smoky scent of dalwhinnie floated across the ever shortening distance as i made my way, relentlessly, to the safety of russia’s finest beverage. the evening was saved. next morning zimbo and i arrived at the fontana boat dock in accordance with the plan to rent a boat, run across the lake to the mouth of hazel creek, and hook up with the survivors, if any there were, of the fabled death march. turns out we had to rent two small jon boats, and zimbo had never even cranked a motor. i took him for a brief lesson, and the boy responded with his typical esprit de corps and innate physical talents. we were sliding up to a mooring at the mouth of hazel in thirty minutes. the foilage was brilliant, at its peak of color, in fact; about ten days later than usual. on the ride across the lake, i considered my good fortune at being a resident of a state that displays such an amazing variety of natural features. `my happy reveries were cut short with our arrival at the creek mouth, where the unsettling odor of cheddar hung heavy in the damp air. sure enough, there he was, acerbic as always, but a survivor if there ever was one: mama siebeniech’s gift to the world of forensic science, and the scourge of vermin throughout the upper midwest. and fishing upstream; and the bad: the damn place was thick with preppies. sure enough, as we walked upstream in search of the boys, we passed what seemed like dozens of the earnest young faces of norman’s children, standing uncertainly in the ribbons of water, waving their rods limply through an arc of about 180 degrees, dropping the fly in the flow behind them, piling the line across a couple different runs in front of them, and generally scaring the shit out of every rainbow in graham county. about a mile above the mouth, we passed this guy fishing who actually knew what he was doing, and i wondered if he could be patton, whom i had never met. i discounted that possibility when i realized that this individual looked exactly like an accountant. by noon, we had arrived, as scheduled, at the second bridge. just above that structure, at the creek’s edge, stood none other than the best damned domestic lawyer in the old north state, the fabled and feared jeffie miller. we chatted for a while about the deprivations endured during the last few days of camping on the creek; that is, the shortage of whisky, and zimbo and i moved upstream hoping to find some water that had not yet been subjected to the thrashing of spoiled children. well, to make a long and embarrassing story mercifully short–we caught two fish each, neither longer than six inches. it was my worst day in thirty one years of fishing hazel creek. we all met at the end of the fishing day by the side of one of the most beautiful streams on this planet, to bitch and moan. bob patton turned out to be the accountant, and a damn good guy. so, back to the cabin for more of the same: sniper stories (thank god for the capture), the bounty of tom’s crock pot cuisine, and the crisp taste of a stoli see-through. about seven or so, zimbo became sufficiently bored with the society of hopeless alchoholics that he was driven to return home–a six hour drive back to the raleigh area. his conduct might be considered irrational, but only by those who have never seen his wife. wow. the bottom line is this: who gives a damn about the fishing. the other stuff is where it’s at. right boyos? here’s to ya, guys, from your friend in the old north state wayno (yeah, steve, it’s maudlin; but to some of us, it’s priceless.)