It has come to our attention that the feds are about to reach into our waders and pull out some cash for the privilege of fishing in coastal waters. This is more than irritating, this is yet another usurpation of natural rights of man. This is sticking one’s nose where it doesn’t belong. Well, no one will be sticking his nose into the Skunkmeister’s vintage waders. The Skunkmeister will never pay money to not catch fish. He does it for nothing.

First, they wanted to register all guns. The Skunkmeister said no. Next they will be wanting to register all those dangerous long things with reels and monofilament. The Skunkmeister says no, and will stand guard over the old homestead. Here is the best way to handle it, like we do it in the country.

If you are one of those durn fools that gave up your guns or even registered them with the so-called authorities, well, you’re gonna have to do this:

Here is the technique, with a bit of verbal direction for the revenooer when he comes to take your stuff:

Got the picture? Get those double treble hooks into that pile of guano when he shows up to harass you, then reel him in a bit. He may put up a fight, but probably not much. The last one I got didn’t. Then sit in the back of the old truck, keeping a tight line on the miscreant, while the missus drives the truck around for a while. Maybe to that mall 30 miles away. Then let that revenooer go and drive yourself back home to have a mason jar full of moonshine and a few laughs. That’ll be the last you see of him.

The Skunkmeister doesn’t get mad about losing his favorite plug, he gets even.

No one makes a fool out of the Skunkmeister. Outside help is unnecessary.

As the Skunkmeister says, “You can’t lose em if you don’t hook em.” You can’t simply stay home if you want to be the worst, so we grabbed an ice cream cone up the street and went on down to the favorite fishing spot known locally as an undisclosed location.

We were using a new lightweight rod with some light line, just to make it sporting, and had our favorite rattling surface plug tied on, along with no steel leader, because we forgot to bring one. We tossed a couple of casts out into what was obviously an area devoid of fish, just to limber up, and then slid over a tad into an area boiling with ravenous bluefish. The action was hot, and one beauty went for the plug. It was just like fighting a feisty mother-in-law at the other end of a hangman’s noose, if we remember correctly, but we hung on for a while and then generously let the big fella slip the hook a few yards out. Here is a fine close-up photo of this magnificent fish.

Another cast, another bluefish, this one bigger than the last. The too-small rod with the too-light line was bent like a cheap pretzel, but we fought for what seemed like a minute or two until this whopper was right alongside. Getting a little concerned about damaging the Skunkmeister’s well-earned reputation so early in the season, we decided to let this monster loose before landing him. To reward him, we even let him take our favorite plug along with a few feet of line so he could have a souvenir of his close call with the famed Skunkmeister. We can hear him right now, bragging to his buddies down in the bay about how tough he is.

Five casts, two big blues lost, the favorite plug gone. Not bad for 15 minutes work. Do you want to be bad, too? Then stay tuned to the Skunk Report! Slack lines!

How many times do I have to say it? This is all about fishing withOUT catching. Case in point: I put it all on the line, imparting to my buddy Fred here nearly every ounce of knowledge I have gained through endless trials and tribulations about how to

• not find any fish, even when everyone around you is hauling ‘em in hand over fist
• lose every fish you hook if you’re unfortunate enough to hook one
• catch fish that are microscopic and therefore too embarrassingly small to mention in public
• lose lots of expensive stuff fishing
• break an ankle on the slippery rocks in the pitch dark
• fall in the water and get swept away helplessly, which is darn exciting, by the way

As a last resort, you can lose your fish out the back of the truck on the ride home.

I guess Fred can’t help himself. He has succumbed to the siren song, left the fold, gone over to the dark side. It goes to show you, you gotta be one tough dude to resist all this fishing stuff and be as bad as the Skunkmeister.

Hey, Fred, got any of that fish left over?

Where the water is wet and the fish are blue….

The Skunkmeister had to take off the vintage waders just long enough to give away daughter Sarah (see bottom of last post) in marriage to Jason. Everything went swimmingly, but I felt buck naked without the vintage waders. This has been corrected.

People may tell you that fishing has tapered off in recent weeks, but don’t you believe ‘em, because the Skunkmeister’s success rate is as high as ever. You just gotta get out there, get lost, freeze some extremities, lose some gear, whatever turns you on. Keep the faith!

Here is a sample of what you can look forward to on the Skunk Report in the coming days:

Announcing the Big Winner of the Complete-The-Corny-Saying Contest. The Grand Prize is Delivered!

The Skunkmeister previews the ice fishing season. Hint: there’s a lot of good stuff about ice in this one.

The eagerly-anticipated Skunk Report Recipe Contest. Eat your heart out.

And last, but not least, The Coming of the Smokemeister:

Can’t you just smell the love! Slack lines!

Many have wondered, “Just what is the origin of the Skunkmeister?” Legends abound, such as the one that posits that the Skunkmeister sprang fully formed from the ocean as depicted in this quickie sketch by some Italian guy named Botticelli:

Another legend states that the Skunkmeister is the seed of a union between a barracuda and a sea cucumber:

At least this is believable, since the Skunkmeister has both the attitude of the barracuda and the speed of the sea cucumber, but that’s not the real story.

No, the Skunkmeister did not spring from the sea or benefit from great parentage like the barracuda and sea cucumber; the Skunkmeister is flesh and blood, just like you, an ordinary guy with extraordinary gifts, such as distrusting everyone.

Oh, here is the reason for all this clarification - one of the fertile Skunkmeister’s many offspring, Sarah, caught this nice bluefish at Megansett a couple of days ago.

I have taught her everything I know about fishing, but she obviously has not been paying attention. Where did I go wrong?

Hope is not lost, however. While Sarah was catching this fish, the Skunkmeister’s future son-in-law was untangling a bird’s nest on his reel, achieved while “showing her how to do it right.” I am pleased that all my hard work passing on my extensive knowledge is not in vain.

Want to be strong like the Skunkmeister? Try this Swedish delicacy:

If you still have any places where hair does not grow (unlikely among real men), this stuff will do the trick! The Skunk Report is negotiating with the manufacturer for exclusive North American marketing rights to this fine product. This really means the United States. Canadian men are too bland to appreciate this spicy offering, and Mexican men won’t even be able to read the label, which, surprisingly, is not in Spanish. Wait a minute, I can’t read the label, either.

Forget what the article says about problems about importing and so forth. We at the Skunk Report have ways of avoiding the fussbudgets in Customs. For your free sample of surströmming, send $525.00 for shipping and handling to the Skunk Report today. Start eating like a man and grow some hair!

Came home from work last night and said to myself, “I sure feel like fresh bluefish for supper.” Grabbed my stuff, went about 90 seconds to Megansett Harbor, hiked out on the breakwater a ways, clipped on one of those plastic poppers with rattly thingies inside, and, presto, a couple of casts later, brought in a nice 8 pound bluefish. Mission accomplished. At times like this, all that remains is to take a picture for posterity.

Back in the Skunk Report lab, I set up my vintage camera on the tripod, only to find that the batteries were dead, and there were no good batteries in the house. So I put the old thinking cap on and duct-taped a camera phone on the tripod and spent the next 20 minutes working on a way to click the shutter, and then run around into the picture while holding the bluefish. I am pretty fast afoot, but I never quite made it into the picture. It must have been the vintage waders that slowed me down.

My fish was beginning to stiffen up by now, so I said, “Screw it,” and brought the catch into the Skunk Report Gourmet Seafood Preparation area and snapped the shot there.

Wait, you say, that is just some photo you filched from the Internet. I am offended. Here is proof that the Skunkmeister was there:

The manly hands of the Skunkmeister make the fish look smaller than it really was, plus there was the reverse perspective. You know, when you are holding a fish up in front of you for a photo, you can hold the fish out towards the camera and make your 2 pounder look like a 20 pounder. Well, this picture makes the eight pound bluefish look like one of those cute little trout that you catch in those cute little streams up north. In a pinch, you can lay your cute little fish on a dessert plate and make it look big, but the Skunkmeister is not about stretching the truth to look good. Looking good comes naturally here.

Wait, you say, I though this web site is all about losing fish, not catching them.

What can I say. It was an accident. It won’t happen again.

Nothing beats a little romp on deck after a tough shift out on the Grand Banks:

It is recorded that Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet, “To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there’s the rub.” Intelligent scholars now know that Shakespeare was preparing fresh fish for dinner, and he really wrote, “Ay, where’s the rub?”