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garbagefarm · 1 year

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Mutucule Farm (#9)

2023-02-10, Mutucule Farm session #9!

Cast:

Me (@mothmute)

Belle (@snacco)

Cam (@amanita-spore)

Erin (@salamand3rin)

Highlights include, but are not limited to:

Starting to organize the shed!!

(oh god, I forgot Erin’s fedora)

me on my way to steal your man (Sebastian)

I never thank anybody for poisoning me with hazelnuts

Separation between cheese and shed

I saw a fancy slime and all I got was this lousy t-shirt

Belle tells Caroline “hi” for Erin

Pompkin blocking the corridor in my house; Belle takes my bed, and I take hers

I always get got by the bee drum!!

Everybody in this general store desires Caroline carnally

Abigail prairie king’d me

We failed the wizard’s quest, and weren’t able to find a prismatic slime in time

Traveling merchant really coming through for us: snow yams, large egg, caviar

I sigh wistfully, declare that I miss Cam, and then he shows up!

(he couldn’t join us at the start of the session but we’re all glad he could make it)

... in Belle’s bed? okay, sure.

Erin crawls into my doorway just as the clock hits 2:00AM

Bridge repaired!! Yeah!!

Erin and I try (and fail) to scam Robin into working on two things at once

Some talk about edging the tall grass and the paths 😏

Cam blames me for a prank, and punishes me by jumping into bed with me

I accept another ill-advised community quest; we are fated to fail.

Talking about tree fertilizer

Belle plays D&D with Sebastian and Kickflip

Erin and I successfully get two construction projects going simultaneously!

Stables for Erin, Coop for me!

Belle has acquired some extremely legal bones from the caves.

I was able to kill some ghosts for the Wizard

Erin built stables and they’re very much in Belle’s way, but Belle will be mad if this inconveniences Erin into moving the stables that are inconveniencing Belle.

Cam murders the mahogany, and goes off to the Shame Cave

Erin’s still wearing that Fedora. At night, in the rain, always. We discuss the smell of wet fedora.

Stables are done! Erin names the horse Fella.

... but Robin hasn’t actually started on the Coop yet. In the end, it was we who were scammed.

Fella helps himself to some eggplant

Stick Gang runs around while I try to get some honest work done around here

Erin puts the fedora away, wears a green ribbon

SPOOKY NIGHT

love to see a good baba yaga

Last day of fall. It’s raining, and we still need Catfish and Shad for Bundles. We can do this.

catfish gives me the slip, but Cam is victorious

Belle gets a witch hat! (that checks out)

First of winter, non-canon day!

Bomb in the shed was disappointing

Standing between two slightly out-of-tune noteblocks— wow, I hate this

I start spamming bombs and Pompkin wanders in!!

Pompkin goes flat??? I EXPLODED POMPKIN NOOOOOooooo......

TO-DO:

acquire birds for the coop

make winter entertaining??

winter crops!!

(big barn being constructed)

second barn??

upgrades??

more romance??

#mutucule farm #stardew valley

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writer59january13 · 17 days

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Oh Mondseer: the muck cob brie muenster saga...,

crafted when Wallace and Gromit returned from their trip to the moon, which I can prov-olone huck curd (within Trump con feta ration) – as cheesy poem crafted whey back when the following Gouda eye idea occurred while milking the cows.

Yea of course writing ideas unstoppably

burst asunder at the most inconvenient

opportunities such as driving Miss Daisy,

taking a shower, or using the bathroom.

Accursed ambition becoming a prolific

wordsmith (case in point Stephen King)

Woolworth riding, oddly lumbering

lackadaisical shoehorning out this

being from a self made gully. The jury

yet to decree if attempting to extricate

muss elf from tangled web of decades

old setbacks via literary output successful.

Every morning, noon and night, this chap

blunders, flounders, (like a phish out of water),

yet plod his shipshape reclusive quiet-natured

person along the boulevard of broken dreams.

Oft times, huff hind aye muss elf entering The

Dead Zone (bordering a Pet Sematary). Earlier,

a previous saunter found me surmounting

The Green Mile. Attendant in regard to these

Bag Of Bones, and Desperation to acquire

telephone contact with Cell phone quickens

pace despite Insomnia. No matter unexpected

Sleeping Beauties warrant kisses, my determination,

motivation, and slight trepidation occasionally breeds

(The Dark Half), doomsday facet deftly jackknifing lust.

Occasionally, a feeble goading simply under minds

any corporeal aim to restore endeavor to experience

Joyland. IT (creative juices within) spur meeting Rose

Red and her restorative powers. Onward atheistic

soldier goes this chap. No matter tipping point (vis

a vis hungry fatigued body clamors for Needful Things.

Revival (for food and sleep) frequently appears grim.

Downcast state of body, mind and spirit reinforced

by mirage. The Dark Tower looms ahead! Adjacent

to ominous evil looking structure silhouette casted

of a Black House. The initial ambition to ward off

abysmal results summon forth creative literary juices.

Simultaneously a migraine headache pounding pitted courtesy spluttering, nauseating, and foaming LIX spittle.

They hammer horrifically, ferociously, and diabolically.

Shades of shad rock Under The Dome. Ma noggin

Aches like The Tommyknockers! Every attempt to locate

a royal crowning coeval counterpart jinxed with laborious

ill luck. Hell in a handbasket plight usually generates

nostalgia for destiny to Carrie be back to Old Virginny.

Sage advice from Christine, Delores Claiborne, or The

Colorado Kid, yours truly blithely heeded. As a result

(The Outsider within this paperback writer wannabe)

sports defeat written all over face. Concomitant figurative

futility gussies and kickstarts leaving invisible pockmarks.

Ordinary Dreamcatcher fate invariably finds aptly named

Writer Errs Block. Need to back track arises (figuratively)

along vista. The roads have no name. They command

stubborn respect. Near impossible mission manifested

To transcend mental hindrance. This more difficult than

playing Gerald's Game. Hence sigh embrace The Shining

opportunity to avoid Misery. Doctor Sleep would undoubtedly

encourage braving, challenging self confronting The Eyes

Of The Dragon. Such a risky pursuit could force facing pitbull

Cujo. No matter gamble foisted prospect fraught frightfully

being burned at the stake by a Firestarter. Voluntary action

brings small hairs to tingle. Hunchback, sans severely curved

spine straightens. This (The Stand) ding pose offered supreme

vision as promised by The Talisman. Tidbits by me alias

Mr. Mercedes carefully just in case The Girl Who Loved

Tom Gordon chanced to stumble upon this redoubt versus

her hours spent staring at a blinking cursor. Metaphorical

po' wet tick feet took me where they would into the Shining and happy place called Willoughby located within the outer

limits of the twilight zone.

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tigerseye46 · 3 years

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Fighting But Failing

Hey. Remember when I said I was working on possessed Pigsy stuff. This isn’t the confrontation I mentioned but this is something else. I’m sorry Tang and Pigsy.

Possessed Pigsy Masterpost

TW: mention of blood, mention of injury, possession, manipulation, forced behavior, has some non-consensual elements (more specifically non consensual kissing.)

Pigsy screams as the White Bone Spirit continues to possess him, he’s lost in his mind, trapped by chains he can’t escape from. He sees what he’s doing to Tang, sees what he’s doing to his kids and he sees what he’s doing to his brothers, rage boils in his chest. All he can do is observe, the spirit has a hold on him now. The spirit smirks at him, he glares back in response.

He feels himself turn and wrap his arms around Tang’s waist. “Mornin’ love.” The words that come out from his mouth aren’t his.

“Mo-morning.”

“How’s my beautiful future husband doin’?”

“I’m okay…”

He sees himself kiss the back of Tang’s head and he notices Tang flinch. He hates himself, he allowed this to happen, he allowed himself to be possessed and now everyone is suffering the consequences.

What does Tang think of him? What would master think of him if he knew? What if Tripitaka already knows? What if he’s somewhere safe in Heaven completely disgusted at the actions of his second disciple? He has every right to be. Pigsy is disgusted with himself. Yet no matter how much he tries, the chains only get tighter especially when the White Bone Spirit casts illusions in his mind to make him give into his desire quicker. He knows they aren’t real but he can’t help it. It’s all he’s ever wanted, to be loved, appreciated, cared for, even if it’s for a single moment, even when the illusion shatters and the White Spirit lets out a cackle, leaving him broken and full of regret, he can’t help it.

How can he when an illusion of Tripitaka holds his face and tells him he’s wanted him since the very beginning? That he’s always loved the pig, that Wukong is never what he wanted, how despite his flaws he loves Pigsy so deeply and sweetly that their separation stings and how he begs for them to be reunited again.

How can he when a vision of Tang teases him and doesn’t look at him with fear in his eyes? The vision of Tang stares at him with devotion and passion. A Tang that kisses and tells Pigsy that he’s going to be happy with their life together, being assured that he isn’t forcing the scholar to stay with him.

How the feelings are clear and he can pretend that they both want him. He can get his happy ending if he lets this happen, lets the White Bone Spirit do her thing even if civilians get hurt. He shakes his head because how can he even think that?

“Darlin’, where’s the outfit I gave ya?” The conversation snaps the pig back to reality, he hates the frightened look on Tang’s face.

Tang tenses at the nickname. “I don’t know…”

“Didn’t ya just have it?”

“Mhmm… I… um… don’t really like it.”

He bends down to observe the scholar, the human takes a step back from him. “But you would look beautiful with it on. It would be fittin’ with me as the king and you as my queen.” He kisses the human’s hand.

“I know but… it’s- it’s uncomfortable.”

He sighs and rubs his face. “Fine. You can wear whatever ya want for today. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“T-thanks.”

“If you want to thank me, you could give me a kiss.” Tang winces and leans in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Not there, dear.” He kisses him on the lips and grips his waist to make sure the human doesn’t move. Pigsy wants to throw up, he tugs on the chains in a futile attempt to get himself free.

When they separate there’s a tear running down the human’s cheek. He wipes it away quickly and his hands ball into fists. “Can I just stay in bed?”

“Sorry, babe, but I want to spend the whole day with you.”

“Gr-great.”

“Well I do have to get our kids at some point. That can wait until later.”

They reluctantly go through their day with Tang flinching every time he’s touched by the pig.

Pigsy can only watch as his possessed body flirts with Tang, making him uncomfortable in every way, shape and form.

The White Bone Spirit strolls up next to him, her eyes full of glee and her arms behind her back. “You seem to be enjoying this.”

He narrows his eyes and attempts to lunge at her but she teleports and appears behind him. “I AM NOT! I WOULD NEVER TREAT TANG LIKE THIS!”

“But you want this, don’t you? Think about how terrified he is.”

“I KNOW THAT!”

“It’s so fun to watch this happen. Tear your little group apart. All I need is your master.”

“DON’T YOUR DARE TOUCH HIM!”

“Oh, I won’t. That’s your job.” She winks and walks a few steps away, her back turned. “I’ll let you have your fun for now before I take over more.”

“I won’t let that happen!”

She snaps her fingers. “Won’t you? The chains only get worse.” Her cackling is heard again and she disappears to wherever it is.

He hyperventilates and focuses on the screen in front of him, he knows an illusion will appear soon. The scene in front of him is painful, he hovers over Tang, closer than the scholar is comfortable with and he can see his hands fidget to prevent himself from pushing the demon away and dealing with his anger. He can’t watch. When he turns away from the scene, there is Tripitaka. He yelps and takes a step back, the action just makes his “master” step forward.

Tripitaka gives him a sickeningly sweet smile. “Bajie!”

Tears run down the pig’s cheeks, his bottom lip quivers. When he’s face to face with Tripitaka, the monk places a hand on his cheek and he just leans in. “M-master.”

“Oh, I missed you.”

He bitterly laughs. “I saw ya just the other day.”

��Well, that is different.” Pigsy nods and his head turns back to him and Tang. He has Tang on his lap, his hands caress the scholar, he can see him holding in his breath. Tripitaka grips his face and forces him to look away from the scene. “Focus on me, love. You are making me jealous.”

“Jealous?”

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously. You’re in love with that scholar, he does take some of your attention away from me. Although, I know how important he is to you and I know no one can take your heart aside from us two. You’re mine.”

“There’s no reason to be jealous. I love you both the same! But aren't ya disgusted?”

“Disgusted? Why would I be?”

“Because… because… I’m not in my right mind! You see how I act! I’m forcin’ Tang to be with me!”

“I would never be disgusted by you. You aren’t forcing him to be with you at all. He loves you. I love you. You know this. You are doing what we want. Taking us away from that despicable monkey. All I need for you to do is take me away. You’re strong enough to do it. Too bad you got to the scholar first.” He grins. “But I am patient and I will wait.”

“I… I…. I love you too. I’m tryin’.”

“I know and it makes me love you even more.” The words poison his mind. “You know when we see each other again, I want you to show me the world, the world we will build together with you as the king. A place for us and only us.”

His eyes sparkle at a world only for them. “It’s all for you,” he admits in a whisper. “Everything I do is for you. It’s all dedicated to you.”

Tripitaka beams and kisses him. “I’m glad.” He melts at the contact, he knows this isn’t right yet his mind is broken. He’s using this illusion as an outlet, if his master ever knew he would hate him for the rest of eternity, not like the monk doesn’t already hate him. The monk hates him for his stupidity, getting them captured every single time even when the monk puts on an air of niceness, he’s aware how fake it is so he gives into the trick because this Tripitaka won’t hate him, won’t turn him away, won’t rush towards Wukong and call him his savior.

The pig can hardly recall a moment when he was fighting back against the mirages. Had he even fought against them at all? He thinks he’s did, he’s not sure though. He thinks he used to turn them away after the first time then he only fell deeper and deeper.

When he’s kissing Tripitaka, he feels a pounding in his skull, he holds his head and hisses. The vision disappears in a mist and the White Bone Spirit appears again. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing you like that.”

He puts a hand over his mouth to muffle the sobs. “Shad-Shaddup.”

Her chin juts out and she comments, “It gets easier each time. You hardly question it when one of them appears, you hardly fight and you know the best part?” She kicks his back when she doesn’t answer, leaving her foot on it. “Do you?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he answers in a low growl.

“Too bad. I barely have to do this either but your reactions are too cute,” she mockingly coos. “You’re so desperate and it makes tearing you apart even more worth it. I’ll let you have your fun for a few more days before I enact the rest of my plan.”

“I won’t let you!”

“You already have. You’ve given me the reins and I will bring the era of the Monkey King to its knees.”

“Leave my brother alone.”

She ignores him and gestures to the screen, his eyes widen. Somehow in the midst of all of this, he has left the castle and is now fighting his older brother. There are words and blows exchanged, nasty words spill out of his mouth, he goes on and on about how much he hates the monkey and he sees his brother bite his lip.

At one point he says, “Remember what I said last time? That ya should have stayed gone. We hardly need you anymore. You’re useless.” Then he uses his newfound ice powers to freeze part of Wukong’s arm. His brother flinches, more from the words than the blow and he breaks his arm free.

“Bajie…” The monkey can’t even get a word in before the possessed pig charges and charges, Wukong barely manages to dodge every time.

He’s trying to stop himself from hurting him, it never works. He might be angry at the monkey but he never wanted this. He never wanted to hurt him. The whole scene makes his stomach twist. What if there’s the smallest possibility that Wukong won’t be able to dodge in time?

The fight ends when Wukong smacks him in the face with the staff, he holds his nose, blood dripping from it and bruises littering his body. He sees Wukong cover his mouth. Pigsy narrows his eyes at him, leaving with one last scowl and curse.

As he goes to retreat to the castle, Wukong attempts to grab him until he freezes his feet and returns back to his home.

Tang spots him from the top of the stairs, his mouth wide open. All Pigsy wipes his nose and kisses Tang, apologizing that he failed and promising to win next time. He forces the scholar to patch him up.

The White Bone Spirit laughs menacingly. “So close. Not really but a good job on the effort.” He only growls at her. “The problem is you’re still too weak. A few more days then I’ll deal with your brother myself.”

He grits his teeth and lunges at her. She does her vanishing act same as usual. His head rings and his mind goes black.

Everyday he drowns in the sea of lies, of illusions, letting himself fall little by little until his mind is broken. He is fighting but failing, just what the White Bone Spirit wants.

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talldarkandroguesome · 4 years

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8th of Hearthfire, Tirdas

I was thankful that Tel did not seem eager to ask about what happened. They did not bring anything up. I went about my routine as usual in the morning.

Then I left offerings and prayers at the small shrine to Almsivi in my house. I think that my uncle would appreciate my doing so in his honor.

I spent some time in the meditation garden in the northeastern part of my gardens light candles at the stations of the saints and around the statue of Almsivi. I also lit candles besides the stations of the Anticipations. I thought to pray with the True Tribunal, but with Tel around me like a guar pup, I did not dare risk it. At least this way it would look less suspicious.

Perhaps it was foolish, but I kept hoping that Tel would be their usual talkative self and I could pretend to be interested and occupy my mind on the conversation, find tasks to give myself so as not to have time to think about what has passed.

Yet Tel sat besides me in silence or followed me in silence.

I hate the silence. I hate its deafening buzz in my ears that allows my mind to meander down to the darkest corners of my mind. Down to places of what if, or why not. Those places that make me think about what part I played in both of their demises. What I might have done to save them. Why it could not have been me to take those blows? If it was a spell, why could I not have cast it so that if it killed me uncle Tanval could yet live?

I tried to find ways to busy myself. Tried. Tried and failed. Everyone was taking care of things so that I could concentrate on my role as mourner.

Even when I found things to do, a servant would come in and take over, saying I needed to let them do it as I had more important duties.

At some point Tel offered to talk if I wanted to. When I asked them what to talk about, they said uncle Tanval and Garyn. I asked what there was to say. Tel said I did not need to talk, but that they were there if I needed to do so. I said they were gone and there was nothing left to say. Tel said they just wanted me to know the offer was there if I changed my mind.

When I did not immediately say something, the silence returned, though someone even louder now in light of the conversation. It was infuriating.

I was finally saved by Mother’s arrival with one of the professors from Shad Astula and Father, as a high priest of the Temple. It was one of the few times in many years I have actually seen them together. They said they had come to give me the lessons I would need for the funeral and took me off to a place where I could practice.

Obviously, it was difficult in light of not wanting to mess up the binding of soul to bones on anyone. The bodies of criminals who had died in prison were put to use for this.

I admit to feeling somewhat disturbed in that knowledge. They said that they would undo the spell if it went wrong and that the bodies would be transported to the appropriate grave site. It did little to settle my feelings on the matter.

I worked initially with Mother and the professor. Mother must have explained the situation to her ahead of time, for the professor had a number of books she was going through.

After they had explained the theory of the spell and what the parts were, a knock came on the door. I was shocked when the old spymaster walked in. He looked nearly the same as I had remembered him from when he recruited me a century and a half ago. He had retired many years ago and so I was surprised to see him once more.

He and the others spoke about the spell as I waited. They discussed magickal theory and the way that the shadow techniques I used worked.

Shadow magic. I would never have guessed if I had not been told. And yet it seemed so obvious when it was being explained that it could be nothing short of magicka based.

The spymaster and I discussed some of the techniques I used and how to alter parts of them in order to become something closer to that which was being required.

Then with the professor’s help, I stood over the corpse in the room and held my hands out.

When Mother had helped with casting the spell before, a beautiful bright golden light had come from her hands, merged with uncle Tanval’s blue light, and that of another in order to bind the soul to its body.

Yet as I formed the energy flowing out of my fingers, I saw it was not bright and golden, nor blue, in fact, there was no brightness at all. Instead, it was the exact opposite, it was shadow, a darkness flowing from my fingers.

I stopped in my surprise and the spymaster had to convince me to continue. The professor released a white light and mother joined with her golden light. As the two sources of light and my shadow came together, they seemed to envelop the body. It moved ever so slightly and then a spirit rose from the corpse. It spoke and the spymaster grabbed my shoulder to get me to stay concentrating. Then Father held the book out to us and we all recited the prayer of binding.

Although I had described it in quick succession here, I will not forget the hours of failed attempts that were made. It was embarrassing how long it took. How poorly I am able to use magicka. I could tell from the looks on everyone’s faces when they thought I was not paying attention that they were frustrated with me. That they do not know if they trust me to succeed come the time. They suggested several more practices before I must perform in public.

What I will say, the professor, several times took out magicka potions and asked if I had not drained myself. Mother smiled at me when it became evident that I was not feeling any degree of fatigue. The spymaster eventually told the professor she was a fool to be treating my magicka as though I were a novice. He said, and I think perhaps it was exaggerated, that I had one of the deeper magicka pools he had come across and that it was one of the reason he had chosen me early in our meeting. I think it was more his pride in his work than the truth, but I appreciated his standing up for me. Even Mother seemed oddly proud. Father, as usual, gave a huge show of his pride by embracing me as though I was, in fact, still a child, and then said he had an appointment with Mother Morrowind that he could not be late for and excused himself.

The old spymaster gave me a wink and I thanked him profusely for his help.

Mother and the professor left to speak as a few Ordinators came and moved the body.

The old spymaster asked if I had time to talk. I said that I had.

He asked after how I had used my skills lately. I explained how I had used them in preventing the Brothers of Strife to terrorize Stonefalls. He told me he was proud of that, though he was still disappointed that I had been forced to retire.

I laughed and told him that they had turned me into a diplomat, so there was still time to make use of my skill. He had a good chuckle over that and then sighed and said it was a shame.

When I asked him why, he told me that he had been working lately with an old acquaintance of mine from Balmora. I smiled and asked him how in Oblivion he had gotten in touch with her.

That is when he told me that she had been on the mainland on a few assignments and had been speaking with him. In fact, she had asked after me. Apparently there had been a question about accepting a contract out on me, but it rejected each time it came in.

It was somewhat worrying to hear that there had been more than one person who had been trying to pay the Morag Tong for my assassination. But I was more surprised about it being turned down.

I asked him if a certain lady Virian was responsible for it. He had said that interestingly enough, no. That in fact, there was a higher force that would not permit it. And that he wanted to ask me about that.

Of course I told him that I only knew one member of the Morag Tong still living and if she were not responsible, then that was truly a mystery.

Then the spymaster made a gesture which I knew all too well. Yet I gave no reaction.

He looked at me expectantly.

Still I remained unmoving.

He laughed. He told me that though I did not admit to anything, he knew the widow in this city and knew enough that I did not need to say anything more.

That worried me. If he was implying that my Prince was ensuring my life, as good as that news is, I have nothing I can say. That would be my Prince’s place, not mine. However, I am not sure what he was trying to discover. Or maybe it was a threat? I do not know what his game is.

If he is working with the Morag Tong, why try and confirm if I follow Mephala?

I suppose only time will tell.

For now, I am heading to the Mages Guild to await the arrival of Plays-With-Fire who is escorting Sildras. How I have missed my dear boy.

#ESO #TES #RP #Dunmer #Elder Scrolls Online #The Elder Scrolls

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bassfishingbychris · 3 years

Link

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Consistent topwater action during the cool spring months requires patience. You’ll need to fish slower than you’re used to, and you’ll be targeting a smaller percentage of fish than you would be in Summer. However, that smaller segment includes a lot of the biggest bass in the lake. This bite has a lot more to do with cadence and speed of retrieve than it does water temperature. Don’t get hung up on a certain water temperature, instead, be cognizant that if you’ve been able to wear a T-shirt in the afternoon in the past week or two, the topwater bite has potential. These fish are sitting extremely shallow so they’re able to find warm water pockets, even when the main lake remains cool.

Again, the key is speed. Focus on baits that cover a lot of water (side to side) while moving slowly toward the boat. Walking baits, poppers, and frogs, are all great options. Additionally, baits like a buzz bait (with some adaptations) and a whopper plopper are also great options. Below you’ll find links to the EXACT baits that we use from each category, including our favorite colors for each model. All the links go directly to Tackle Warehouse where you can see detailed photos and descriptions of each item.

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Colors: Matte Shad, MB Gizzard, Gill

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Colors: Tennessee Shad, Lightning Shad

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Colors: Smoke Shad, Bone

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Colors: Phantom, Spayu

Walking Baits…

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Colors: Bone, Sooner

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Colors: Chart Shiner, Vanilla Ice

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Colors: American Shad, Bone, Half Mirror Wakasagi

Ploppers…

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Colors: Munky Butt,

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Colors: Munky Butt, Bone, Phantom Shad

Plopper Mods...

Swivel- Spro Power Swivel (Size 6): http://bit.ly/2ay0p7d

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Buzzbaits…

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Colors: Black Widow, Bluegill

Single Buzz- D&M Easy Roller: https://bit.ly/2SCqcmj

Colors: Red Bug, White Shad

Frogs...

-River2Sea Bully Wa 2: http://bit.ly/2axyR2a

Colors: Little Allen, Ghost

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Colors: Killer Gill, Nasty Shad

-Jackall Gavacho: http://bit.ly/2L7KsWS

Colors: Gold Gill, White, Chart Strike Gill

-Jackall Kaera: http://bit.ly/2Fz6SA3

Colors: White, Glitter Hasu, Glitter Bluegill

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Colors: Bluegill, Shad, Dusk

Popper Combo...

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panfishonthefly · 3 years

Text

Fly Tying Friday - The Easter Basket Damselfly Nymph

Even though my kids have grown and no longer believe the Easter Bunny visits our home every year, Easter baskets still play a role in our holiday tradition. Everyone in the family gets one. This year's baskets contained a green plastic straw that caught my eye. I have been thinking about tying up some brightly colored, damselfly nymphs. The bright green straw in this year's baskets looked like it might be just the material I was looking for to create the body of my new pattern. Sunfish and bass often show a preference for garish colors at times, and a brightly colored damselfly nymph could be perfect for those occasions.

Damselfly nymphs are probably my favorite warm water nymph patterns. Damselflies are found everywhere (at least in my neck of the woods), and many fish species relish them. I typically use damselfly nymph patterns in natural hues of olive, green, tan, and brown. However, during certain times of the year, my local panfish and bass seem to key in on brightly colored flies. For those occasions, I thought a bright damsel nymph would be just the ticket.

With that in mind, I grabbed a handful of the synthetic grass from the Easter basket and headed downstairs to the fly lab. A few moments later, the Easter Basket Damselfly Nymph was born.

I created two different versions, one with a hackle fiber tail and one with variegated chickabou as the tailing material. Both flies had abdomens of wrapped synthetic grass material, counter wrapped with wire, and coated with a thin layer of Solarez Bone Dry. The Bone Dry resin and wire ribbing are used to protect the material body material. I had a few different colors to work with, and each had different properties. The green material appeared to be pretty strong and had zero stretch. The chartreuse grass seemed to be thinner and had a slight stretch to it when pulled, and the yellow had a matt finish and was not as easy to work with as the other two.

For the legs, I went with Semperfli Straggle Legs. Straggle Legs are used in many of my warmwater patterns as it is buggy as hell, very durable, and comes in a wide range of colors. I tied a few with bright hi-viz thoraxes and some with more muted natural tones. I used swiss straw for the wing case, though many other materials can be used, including the grass used for the body material. I recently picked up a multi-card of Semperfli Swiss Straw that contained some very bright colors I have not seen in this material before. I had wondered how I would use such brightly colored swiss straw. I wonder no more as they fit the bill perfectly here.

For eyes, small metal bead chain eyes mounted on the hook's underside added some realism and a little weight. You could use mono eyes if you wanted to eliminate the weight and get the same effect. Finally, a drop of UV resin on top of the wing case to protect it as swiss straw is a delicate material.

The question remained would they work. As it turns out, they do, quite well, in fact. A few days after the holiday, I headed down to a local pond, and on my second cast with an Easter Basket Damsel, I hooked a fat largemouth bass that was cruising the shallows. I caught three more bass on the pattern before I landed my first bluegill!

The panfish, bluegills in this case also seemed to relish the pattern. While the bass seemed to be patrolling the edges of the main body of the pond the bluegills were noticeably absent. I eventually found them in a calm, shallow backwater which in retrospect should have been the first place I looked for them this early in the season. Once I located the fish they came on nearly every cast. As part of this experiment on using a very bright fly I switched off to more subdued damselfly nymph patterns in both olive and tan. While I still caught fish, the takes came quicker on the brighter flies.

Damselfly nymphs are a favorite still water pattern for trout as well. These bright flies have yet to be tested in a coldwater environment so I tucked a few in my Stillwater box to try on some trout lakes on my trip out west this year. We’ll see what happens. I have one more fish to try this pattern out on as well. Shad are currently running in the Delaware River close to my home. I try and find to time to chase them with a fly each year. They have a fondness for brightly colored flies, this one could be perfect!

I have what looks to be several lifetime's worths of Easter basket stuffing, so the challenge will be to see where else I can find a use for this material. That is one of the things I love about warmwater fly tying. You have so many opportunities to incorporate oddball materials into your creations!

Pattern Recipe:

Hook: Natural Bend Nymph Hook size 8

Thread: Semperfli 6/0 Classic Waxed Thread - Chartreuse

Tail: Hackle fibers or Chickabou

Ribbing: Small black wire

Body: Synthetic grass used to fill Easter baskets coated with Solarez Bone Dry

Legs: Fl. Green Semperfli Straggle Legs

Shellback: Fl. Green Semperfli Swiss Straw coated with Solarez Bone Dry

Eyes: Small bead chain or mono eyes

Looking for the materials to tie the flies mentioned in this post? Please consider purchasing them from our shop. Click on the links in the article or the button below to check out our line of flies, fly tying materials and fly fishing accessories.

#Easter Basket Damselfly Nymph #Fly Tying Friday #nymph pattern #damselfly nymph #panf #panfish flies #brim #brim flies

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junker-town · 5 years

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The 5 most fireable coaches this week in the NFL

The Lions are still struggling on defense under head coach Matt Patricia.

Matt Patricia’s defensive gameplanning has not improved the Lions’ defense.

Congratulations, Adam Gase. You’re off the hot seat. For now.

The embattled Jets head coach earned team owner Christopher Johnson’s support last week, then validated that confidence by crushing an overmatched Washington team to deliver New York’s third win of the season. That’s provided deliverance from the list of this year’s most fireable coaches and given Gase a little extra leeway to experiment at the tail end of what promises to be a lost season.

Other coaches saddled with losing records aren’t as lucky. The final six weeks of the season could be the final opportunity for a handful of playcallers to make a positive impression on their bosses. If their teams wind up eliminated from the postseason in the opening stages of the Advent calendar, they may spend the winter looking for new jobs.

That includes Pat Shurmur and Dan Quinn, last week’s starring duo on the list of fireable coaches. Neither man lost last week — Quinn trounced the Panthers for his second straight double-digit road win over a division rival, while Shurmur’s MASH-unit Giants took some time to heal up in a bye — so they’ve escaped scrutiny for now. In their place, a few fresh faces join the rankings.

Here are the five coaches who could be cruising toward their destinies after unfortunate Week 11 performances.

5. Anthony Lynn, Chargers

Someone’s gotta take the blame for the Chargers’ descent from 12-win contender to playoff non-factor over the past 10 months. Los Angeles’ steep decline has been a confluence of several factors: Philip Rivers’ sudden regression, Melvin Gordon’s early-season holdout and the shaky play that followed, and some absolutely horrible luck. But the burden of a unfulfilling season may ultimately fall on Lynn’s shoulders.

The Chargers are, in theory, one of the best teams in the NFL. They are, in execution, a 4-7 mess. Every one of Lynn’s team’s losses have come by seven points or fewer. Rivers has a 6:2 touchdown-to-interception ratio in his victories and a 9:12 mark in defeat. On Monday night, with a chance to topple the Chiefs in Mexico City, he threw four picks — two of which came on plays originating inside the Kansas City 25-yard line.

Lynn is in a tough situation. Rivers has rebounded before; after leading the league in interceptions in both 2014 and 2016, he came back to be one of the game’s better QBs in 2017 and 2018. Now he’s a liability once more, and his gunslinging tendencies have ruined several solid defensive efforts.

Can Lynn fix his veteran quarterback? Does he have the pieces for a rolling rebuild if Rivers is done? The longtime Charger isn’t under contract for 2020, and while there aren’t many reliable options to replace him, the franchise could be getting antsy after a 13-plus years of mostly good seasons and zero Super Bowl appearances.

Los Angeles’ future hinges on what comes next. Although Lynn proved himself the right man for the job the past two seasons, the team’s ownership could see another season of wasted potential as the third-year head coach’s fatal flaw. Lynn doesn’t deserve to be fired — he’s got a 25-18 overall record despite coaching in the Chargers’ Bermuda Triangle of disappointment — but if ownership decides to swing its ax after a major letdown, he could wind up chopped anyway.

4. Doug Marrone, Jaguars

Marrone hoped a returning Nick Foles would snap the Jaguars out of their funk and spark a late run to the top of the AFC South. Instead, the Super Bowl 52 MVP was largely ineffective as Jacksonville fell to rival Indianapolis in a blowout Week 11 loss.

The Jags have now lost four of their last six games. The only wins in that span came against the Jets (bad) and Bengals (worse!). Marrone’s team is 0-5 against opponents with winning records through Week 11, and though Jacksonville isn’t out of the playoff hunt, no one’s buying the team as a legitimate threat. Foles’ return was supposed to be the catalyst to an offensive revival, but he managed just seven points before a garbage-time touchdown — and even that saw his two-point conversion attempt returned 99 yards in the wrong direction.

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Foles wasn’t the only one to struggle as the Jags have crashed back to the “pretender” side of the AFC. Leonard Fournette, once among the league leaders in rushing, has sputtered to just 136 yards (and 3.7 yards per carry) in his last three games as opposing defenses have been less and less threatened by the Jags’ passing. A once-fearsome defense ranks fourth in the league in sack rate (9 percent) but has failed to turn those big plays into stops. Jacksonville ranks just 22nd in the league in yards allowed per play (5.7) and has allowed opponents to convert nearly 40 percent of their third downs.

A smothering defense was Marrone’s calling card as he ventured one good quarter from a spot in Super Bowl 52. Now it’s fallen back to the middle of the pack and neither Foles nor the mania-generating Gardner Minshew II have brought enough consistent firepower to overcome its regression.

The Jaguars are staring down Marrone’s second straight losing season. While the team’s 2016 Cinderella run may be enough to convince owner Shad Khan to give him another chance, the franchise could be looking for someone new to unlock Foles’ top gear outside of Philadelphia.

3. Ron Rivera, Panthers

Rivera has Carolina at 5-5 despite starting the season 0-2 with a hobbled Cam Newton. However, the bloom is off backup Kyle Allen’s onion (I’m pretty sure that’s the saying) now. The Panthers have balanced a four-game winning streak with a 1-3 follow-up that reached the season’s nadir with a 26-point loss to a formerly 2-7 Falcons team.

Carolina’s given up nearly 30 points per game since September, digging holes too deep for a second-year second-stringer to climb from. Allen’s four-interception performance Sunday casts a massive shadow over the back end of the Panthers’ schedule, where games against contenders like the Colts, Seahawks, and Saints (twice) await. If Allen can’t elevate his game against a series of NFL defenses that now have plenty of game tape to point out his flaws, Rivera could miss the playoffs in back-to-back seasons for the first time since 2012.

That could be a major issue for owner David Tepper. Tepper didn’t make many sweeping changes after purchasing the club from Jerry Richardson in 2018, instead opting to stay the course with a head coach who’d yo-yoed between postseason berths and forgettable seasons. Tepper is less likely to remain in stasis if Carolina remains stuck in gridiron limbo.

The former hedge fund manager recently hosted a question and answer session and discussed his hatred of mediocrity and refused to address the futures of Rivera and general manager Marty Hurney. That sets a big expectation for the Panthers’ final six games; finish under .500, even without Newton in the lineup, and it could be time for the team to be torn down in order to become the one Tepper wants.

2. Freddie Kitchens, Browns

Kitchens led the Browns to a win over Pittsburgh Thursday night — the first time Cleveland has beaten the Ravens and Steelers in the same season. A hard-fought victory is not what people are going to remember from the game, however. Myles Garrett clubbing Mason Rudolph with his own helmet is.

This is all ugly pic.twitter.com/9WQzcjZCCj

— CJ Fogler (@cjzero) November 15, 2019

Kitchens now faces an uphill battle to the postseason without his top pass rusher. Garrett was suspended indefinitely after hitting Rudolph with his own helmet and will miss the rest of the season (and possibly more). At 4-6, there’s little room for error if the Browns are going to meet their lofty offseason expectations.

The problem for him is that error is the Browns’ primary currency. Despite his postgame rejection of the idea Cleveland is undisciplined, no team in the league has given up more penalty yardage than the Browns through 11 weeks. Kitchens’ team has been flagged 112 times in 10 games, resulting in 882 lost yards.

Fortunately for Kitchens, the final six games of 2019 should offer the rookie head coach plenty of runway to build the momentum he needs to keep his job. Only one of those games comes against a team with a winning record. If you take the Ravens off the schedule, Cleveland’s remaining five opponents are a combined 10-40-1 (the 0-10 Bengals show up there twice). There’s an easy route to get to 8-8, which would be the team’s first non-losing season since 2007.

This means Kitchens is likely to survive a season when his division title hopes crumbled, his franchise quarterback turned into a less effective Jameis Winston, and Garrett, well, you know. That doesn’t mean he will, but the outlook looks a little sunnier after beating the Steelers and Bills than it did after Week 9’s loss to the Broncos.

1. Matt Patricia, Lions

Patricia won’t fall under scrutiny after 2019 because of his offense. Matthew Stafford was in the midst of his best statistical season of his career (19 touchdowns, 5 interceptions, 9.1 adjusted yards per attempt, and a 106.0 passer rating) before broken bones in his back took him off the field in Week 10. Backup Jeff Driskel, once a Bengals castoff, has been useful in his stead despite the team losing top tailback Kerryon Johnson to a knee injury.

Instead, Detroit’s concern lies in the fact a coach who built his career as a defensive coordinator now commands a unit unable to stop anyone. The Lions rank 27th in the league in points allowed and 31st in yards given up per play (6.1). The only team that didn’t score 26+ points against them in the past five weeks is Mitchell Trubisky’s Bears.

In Week 11, they shut down two of the league’s top players at their positions and still gave up 500+ yards against the Cowboys.

Crazy to think that the #Lions defense held Ezekiel Elliott to 45 rushing yards and Amari Cooper to just 38 receiving yards in one of the worst defensive outputs of the week.

— Pride of Detroit (@PrideOfDetroit) November 19, 2019

The 3-6-1 Lions have been unable to shake the malaise that’s followed the franchise through the past six decades. All but one of the team’s games this fall has been decided by eight points or fewer. They gave up an 18-point fourth-quarter rally to a debuting quarterback and settled for a Week 1 tie. They lost to an arch rival thanks to some nonsense penalties against their prized offseason signing. They’ve gained 400+ yards of total offense four times and won none of those games.

This is all very on-brand for Detroit. That’s awful news for Patricia.

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spookyspaghettisundae · 7 years

Text

The Lonesome Wreckage

Waves lapped repeatedly at the jagged edges of this hunk of broken plastic and titanium. The spacecraft’s wreckage was shored up against a rocky spire that jutted out of the water like a spearhead, forming a small artificial island. All around it was nothing but a vast, endless ocean.

A woman stood just on the edge of the ship’s wreckage. Something about her stoic pose lent her a majestic air, despite how strange she looked. Her skin was a white so pale that it looked unnatural. Wherever her body was not covered with bright yellow strips of torn cloth wrapped around her limbs and torso, the exposed spots of her skin were visibly littered with a disturbing amount of scars of varying shapes and sizes. The wraps around her knuckles showed dark spots with crusted blood, and she was barefoot. Her very short white hair swayed in the gusts of wind that swept over this ocean.

Until recently, most people had only known her as Inmate Zero-Zero-Zero-Zero-One. The escaped prisoner stared out over this vast nothingness, not budging an inch. Watching her there, even doing nothing at all, had been distracting Dirk from his efforts to jury-rig a communication amplifier from the wreckage. He wondered if she would get a sunburn easily with such pale skin and after having spent fifty years locked in a windowless cell within the maximum security prison of Avidya Prime, drifting through the dark void of space. His curiosity about how she appeared to be little over thirty years old despite actually being over one hundred still refused to subside. And how could she stand it, being scantily-clad in tattered rags like that? The ocean air was cold and the metal plating of the wreckage underneath them freezing. The deserter shivered just thinking about it and looked back down at the pile of scrap parts he was trying to solder together with his multi-tool.

“The faster you work, the sooner we might leave,” she said. Her voice was low, the words smooth.

She had noticed his long lapse in operating the multi-tool due to the lack of flying sparks and fusion sounds.

“Couldn’t you just fly off from here? You’re a witch, after all,” he said, grimacing.

“I could, and I can even survive in the void of space for longer than you’ve seen, but you’re useful to keep around,” she replied while turning around. The irises of her eyes contained a thin streak of blue and were otherwise a stark white—he would have described them as silver, like arctic ice. Her gaze was piercing, like it drilled all the way down through flesh and bone to pierce his very soul. “For now.”

The former soldier sat on the scorched hull of a spacecraft next to a pile of assorted junk parts. He looked uncomfortable. His head was shaven bald, and the expression on his face told her that he was not only over a hundred years her junior, but also deeply insecure. The powered armor he inexplicably still wore had had all of its imperial insignia deliberately scraped off of the intact parts, and it was severely damaged on others—his right shoulder and arm and the same side of his torso were exposed. That part of his body should have been torn off by the ship cannons that had blasted right through their escape vessel, but she had conjured a magic that kept his flesh and bone and organs intact. Mostly. Unlike her, he did not know that he still had some natural convalescing to do on his own, and it was probably for the best that he was not aware of it. In a way, he had been a corpse, even if only for a few seconds. It must have been painful. These thoughts triggered a thin and cold smile to creep across her pale blue lips.

“Oh, I see, you’re amused by all of this. Good. Good for you,” he said in an attempt to break the awkward silence and then groaned, while continuing to solder an emitter array into the makeshift amplifier he was putting together. He only did that to break the uncomfortably long eye contact they had kept. While working, he spoke again, with more fire in his voice and sarcasm dripping from every word, “And what use, pray tell, may I have to you, oh great sorceress?”

Maintaining her smile, she said, “For one, I need someone to tell me how to operate all contemporary devices and someone to tell me what has happened to this wretched galaxy in the past fifty years. You could handle both. What I saw of your ship told me that things have changed a lot.”

“Cruiser,” Dirk said, correcting her without looking up from the device. “They’re not called ships anymore, and this particular vessel is a cruiser.” He cursed as he accidentally showered the exposed skin of his right hand with stray sparks from the soldering process. “Was a cruiser,” he then said, correcting himself. He sighed and dropped the multi-tool and scrap parts, and they plummeted to the hull underneath them with loud, clattering sounds of metal striking metal.

With the sounds of hydraulics in his armored legs that accentuated their engaging and disengaging of joint controls, he stood up. The deserter walked over to the edge of the wreckage, knelt down, and stuck his bare hand in the water to cool it off against the sensation of burning pain. The smile faded from her face as she observed him doing so.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said to him.

“Computer readings said it was safe. Something off with this water?”

“No, not with the water. But I only have so much in me to keep you alive. And it’s just not a good idea to dive in here to retrieve your arm, should it get torn off,” she replied.

He rose to stand again and began to shake his hand dry while asking, “What?” No second too soon, as something fleshy and lumpy snaked out of the water with lightning speed as it swiped at where his arm had been a second ago. Dirk stumbled back a few steps, away from the edge, and the powered armor emitted some hissing sounds when it stabilized his movement and prevented him from falling down on his ass. Whatever that thing had been, the tentacle-like shape of it splashed right back into the water and disappeared into the darkness underneath the ocean waves.

She laughed when he burst out into a short tirade of profanities, mixed with incredulous questions about what that creature could have possibly been. Something about a disciplined soldier breaking down so easily was deeply amusing to her. Something about her laugh was genuine in a way he had not heard in years; something about it was infectious. Perhaps soothing.

Even before she had stopped laughing, he actively refused to show any signs of easing up and grumbled while he returned to the pile of junk he was trying to assemble into a functioning device and sat back down. He picked up one of the parts and resumed his efforts.

She sensed his denial and grinned before asking, “What’s your name, Imperial?”

“I am not affiliated with the Knights anymore, and I already told you, it’s Dirk,” he said, averting his gaze.

“I know you did. But I was concerned about escaping and surviving. I chose to ignore you.”

He clicked his tongue in frustration and trained his eyes on the device before removing the power supply again.

She asked, “I take it Shahan is still in power?”

“Yes.”

Soldering sparks began to fly from the device again.

“Is he still called the ‘golden child’ or some such nonsense?”

“Yes.”

“Does it bother you to know that some such as he or I can outlive you by hundreds, if not thousands of years?”

Dirk stopped soldering and looked up at her. He did not reply. She just stood there, several steps away from him, while the sun set in the purple sky behind her, a silhouette of a feminine figure standing out amidst the strange infinity of this ocean, stranded on some forsaken moon. It had gotten darker and the light from the sparks that his multitool had been casting were beginning to blind him. He was unable to make out her features, but he could still make out her icy eyes as they stared at him and paralyzed him.

“That your life is so fleeting, your mortality so palpable? Do you not even pause to question why?”

“No,” he said.

“You should,” she said, and was suddenly so close next to him that their foreheads were almost touching. Instead of feeling warm breath brush over his skin with those words, they were carried by a cold air that swept across his face like the winds of this ocean. He was mesmerized and must have lost time for her to have suddenly appeared so close, he thought. She began to hear those thoughts. He fidgeted uncomfortably and leaned back a few inches when he knew for sure that something or someone was invading his mind.

“St—stop that,” he stammered.

The sorceress smiled eerily but said nothing. She slowly rose to her feet from where she was kneeling in front of him, standing back up straight. Inmate Zero-Zero-Zero-Zero-One slowly began turning from him, keeping her gaze locked onto his eyes and continuing to probe his mind. She looked sultry to him, and his thoughts were racing back and forth in between confusion over how attractive she was while scaring the living daylights out of him and how to attach the power cell without damaging the actuator.

When she had turned fully and broken eye contact, he felt how that mental connection faded and she left his mind alone. She found it interesting how he truly had not once questioned how she did what she was capable of or how magic worked or why she or Shahan were immortal. Some part of him simply accepted these unnatural things. The residual thoughts and memories she had absorbed revealed to her that Dirk’s mind was still clouded with something like a drunken rage. How he had managed to break into the Avidya Prime prison and liberate her with no planning seemed more miraculous than anything. Perhaps his plan had worked by virtue of being so abysmally stupid. But he had done this recklessly suicidal thing in a single-minded attempt to exact vengeance on Shahan. This final thought amused her to no end.

The foreign thoughts dissipated, and she stared off into the sun setting on the horizon. The purple shades of the sky grew darker by the minute and with the cloud of his feeble-minded thoughts fading from her mind, the situation at hand grew clearer to her. Behind her, Dirk blinked and just stared at the back of her head, dumbfounded. He narrowed his eyes and began to understand fully what had just happened.

“Will you tell me what your name is now? After violating my mind, it seems like it’s the least you can do.”

A long silence followed and was broken by three syllables when she replied, “Kjalla.”

He had heard many of the other names like Scourge, Wandering Genocide, or Worldslayer. She was disappointed that people had not come up with any new ones in the meanwhile. But the stunned silence on his behalf suggested that he had never known her real name. Shahan and his lackeys must have been thorough in scrubbing her name from historic records.

“You shouldn’t dally,” she said.

He was about to ask what she was talking about before she spoke again, “When night has fallen, that thing down there is going to come up here and want blood. If it gets you first, I might be able to save you.”

She barely turned her head to look back at him from over her shoulder, glancing just from the corner of her eye. The silvery white of her iris chilled him to the bone. She whispered, “If it gets me first, well, you’re doomed. Right now, I don’t have the capacity to keep your body from falling apart until you are sufficiently healed if I need to save my own hide.”

His mouth opened because he wanted to say something, but the words never came. Instead, the serene texture of sounds of the waves lapping at their vessel’s wreckage was interrupted by a sharp splash. He could see the silhouette of something like tentacles—or rather, something that gruesomely reminded him of loose, disembodied intestines—as it whipped out from the ocean’s surface and wrapped around Kjalla’s body in an instant. Her face had displayed surprise, or so he thought, for it had happened too quickly. Before he could blink, she had skidded and slid across the cruiser’s hull and disappeared into the ocean water with another loud splashing sound.

In a trance-like shock, he continued to solder the scrap parts. Sparks fizzled from the adjoined pieces where the multi-tool fused them together, casting his shadow against the rocky spire behind him.

It felt like the winds had suddenly dropped in temperature. The cold sweat erupting from the pores on his forehead chilled him as the sun set fully. The purple sky turned pitch-black. How long had she been submerged? Seconds? A minute? Dirk felt a sharp pain flare up in his right arm. It throbbed, and he gritted his teeth.

His right hand started cramping up. He looked at it and watched with a growing sense of dread as blood began seeping from his fingernails.

—Submitted by Wratts

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libidomechanica · 7 years

Text

Untitled Composition # 544

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#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 3 #48 texts

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writer59january13 · 2 years

Text

Oh Mondseer: the muck cob brie muenster saga...,

which I can prov-olone huck curd (within Trump con feta ration) – as cheesy poem!

Yea of course writing ideas unstoppably

burst asunder at the most inconvenient

opportunities such as driving Miss Daisy,

taking a shower, or using the bathroom.

Accursed ambition becoming a prolific

wordsmith (case in point Stephen King)

Woolworth riding, oddly lumbering

lackadaisical shoehorning out this

being from a self made gully. The jury

yet to decree if attempting to extricate

muss elf from tangled web of decades

old setbacks via literary output successful.

Every morning, noon and night, this chap

blunders, flounders, (like a phish out of water),

yet plod his shipshape reclusive quiet-natured

person along the boulevard of broken dreams.

Oft times, huff hind aye muss elf entering The

Dead Zone (bordering a Pet Sematary). Earlier,

a previous saunter found me surmounting

The Green Mile. Attendant in regard to these

Bag Of Bones, and Desperation to acquire

telephone contact with Cell phone quickens

pace despite Insomnia. No matter unexpected

Sleeping Beauties warrant kisses, my determination,

motivation, and slight trepidation occasionally breeds

(The Dark Half), doomsday facet deftly jackknifing lust.

Occasionally, a feeble goading simply under minds

any corporeal aim to restore endeavor to experience

Joyland. IT (creative juices within) spur meeting Rose

Red and her restorative powers. Onward atheistic

soldier goes this chap. No matter tipping point (vis

a vis hungry fatigued body clamors for Needful Things.

Revival (for food and sleep) frequently appears grim.

Downcast state of body, mind and spirit reinforced

by mirage. The Dark Tower looms ahead! Adjacent

to ominous evil looking structure silhouette casted

of a Black House. The initial ambition to ward off

abysmal results summon forth creative literary juices.

Simultaneously a migraine headache pounding pitted LIX.

They hammer horrifically, ferociously, and diabolically.

Shades of shad rock Under The Dome. Ma noggin

Aches like The Tommyknockers! Every attempt to locate

a royal crowning coeval counterpart jinxed with laborious

ill luck. Hell in a handbasket plight usually generates

nostalgia for destiny to Carrie be back to Old Virginny.

Sage advice from Christine, Delores Claiborne, or The

Colorado Kid, yours truly blithely heeded. As a result

(The Outsider within this paperback writer wannabe)

sports defeat written all over face. Concomitant figurative

futility gussies and kickstarts leaving invisible pockmarks.

Ordinary Dreamcatcher fate invariably finds aptly named

Writer Errs Block. Need to back track arises (figuratively)

along vista. The roads have no name. They command

stubborn respect. Near impossible mission manifested

To transcend mental hindrance. This more difficult than

playing Gerald's Game. Hence sigh embrace The Shining

opportunity to avoid Misery. Doctor Sleep would undoubtedly

encourage braving, challenging self confronting The Eyes

Of The Dragon. Such a risky pursuit could force facing pitbull

Cujo. No matter gamble foisted prospect fraught frightfully

being burned at the stake by a Firestarter. Voluntary action

brings small hairs to tingle. Hunchback, sans severely curved

spine straightens. This (The Stand) ding pose offered supreme

vision as promised by The Talisman. Tidbits by me alias

Mr. Mercedes carefully just in case The Girl Who Loved

Tom Gordon chanced to stumble upon this redoubt versus

her hours spent staring at a blinking cursor. Metaphorical

po' wet tick feet took me where they would into the Shining and happy place called Willoughby located within the outer

limits of the twilight zone.

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freshwaterfishingthailand · 5 years

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Freshwater Fishing in Thailand

The internet has made researching and browsing for information on big freshwater fish very easy. Type in ‘arapaima’ and the options, information and pictures are endless. A few emails later and I was narrowing down options and deciding which species I wanted to target.

Rick from Fish Siam was certainly the easiest to deal with, offering a wide range of species and venues. He offers an excellent service, including pickup from your hotel, a full day’s guided fishing, and a return ride to your hotel.

With research complete and another trip booked to South East Asia, I had a few target species to tick off my ‘bucket list’ of must-catch fish.

My previous expedition to Thailand included an exceptional day’s fishing at Bungsamram on the outskirts of Bangkok, catching giant Mekong catfish to 60kg. I therefore awoke on the first day filled with excitement and anticipation.

I was out of my hotel into the waiting taxi at 5am, and just over an hour later was standing on the bank of the Amazom BKK2 Lake. The sun was slowly appearing above the horizon and I could see fish rising and rolling on the lake’s surface. Then, with my guide yet to arrive, I wandered along the lake margins watching the activity on the water. I was the only person there, enjoying the peace and tranquility and already rising 30-degree temperature.

Soon after my guide Boy (Bad Boy) arrived, and we set about gearing up: a sturdy 10-15kg rod was combined with a 3500-sized spinning reel and filled with what looked like 50lb braid. The terminal rig was intriguing – I’d never come across a setup like it before: a surface popper of about 6cm in length trailing a short, 60cm trace tied to a paddle-tail Storm Shad (weighted), armed with a single barbless treble.

The target species for me this trip was arapaima, but the lake is also stocked with a variety of other exciting species. Arapaima is a very ancient species of fish with a head of almost solid bone. They can breathe by gulping air from the surface and can roll on the surface as inhale their prey. They are renowned for putting up a dogged battle and get to massive weights: the fish is this lake are reputed to range in size from 30kg up to 200kg.

Reading the water is a big part of this style of fishing, with the signs on the surface giving away the presence of fish cruising below. The rig is then cast in the direction of the presumed cruising/feeding fish and, with the rod tip held low, the rod is stabbed back so the popper’s big face produces a splashy, ‘blooping’ sound, followed by a very slow retrieve. The noise made by the popper supposedly mimics a rolling fish inhaling an unsuspecting baitfish. At the same time, the popper acts as a float, allowing the shad to rise and fall with the rod-and-reel movements.

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imaginethai · 5 years

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The Fishing Website

With research complete and another trip booked to South East Asia, I had a few target species to tick off my ‘bucket list’ of must-catch fish.

Arapaima are an inquisitive species, so the noise of the popper attracts any cruising fish suggests another fish is feeding nearby. Their predatory instincts kick in, so they come in to investigate and get a share of the action.

When the shad is engulfed, the popper acts like a float/indicator and disappears, signalling it time to lift the rod, and after a quick wind down, three hefty strikes are made to try and set the hook into the bone-hard mouth. If the hook-up is good, hang on, as the freight train heads off!

The process sounds relatively simple, but mimicking the noise perfectly - as demonstrated by my guide Boy - was easier said than done. It was a great feeling to finally get the sound bang-on and see the float disappear soon after. The fight is full-on, with the fish heading for deeper water in an unstoppable, screaming run, followed by a dogged stalemate. The headshakes are really powerful, and sometimes you can feel the fish rolling up the line.

As soon as a fish is hooked, the landing party appears with a large landing net and a net sling strung between two bamboo poles. The fish’s head is controlled with the net before being guided into the sling and lifted from the water. Once unhooked, they are returned to the water, where the photo opportunity follows if required. The head guide always controls the lethal head, as these fish can be incredibly dangerous: being struck by the head of one of these monsters can be fatal.

The fish are incredibly well looked after – even revered. The guides take great pains to handle the fish as gently as possible and see them released nice and quickly, too. It was a joy to see.

Although I did see a 200kg fish roll on the surface, they very rarely take a lure. However, I was more than happy with my five arapaima, the biggest of which was around 80kg. I also landed three red-tail catfish and a chao phraya catfish, and dropped a tarpon, too.

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blikkiesvis · 6 years

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I try and fish at least once a week. It’s not always possible though and with family and social commitments taking up most of my free time, fishing sometimes takes a back seat. Everyone knows the one with the diamond ring always has shotgun. But when the wife said she wanted to go to the Kruger Park with the in laws and children my brain went into overdrive. A fishing trip was on the horizon! It’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy staring at a lion lying in the tall grass sleeping off some Zebra he chawed an hour earlier. It’s just that seeing the king of the jungle in all his glory has no comparison to the sight of the sun rising over the ocean.

I couldn’t decide on a destination but after about a week of forwards and backwards and considering all options I decided on Struisbaai. It’s actually ridiculous to think that a little more than four years ago I had never set foot on a Struisbaai beach. It’s such an amasing place with lots of potential, offering a number of different fishing options. The only places that I am really familiar with are De Mond, Die Plaat and Brandfontein. There are loads of other places as well, but not being too adventurous myself I usually just stick to the places I know.

I made a call to one of my fishing buddy’s and he didn’t need much convincing. His fiance did however (Young love, it’s so beautiful) but luckily she saw the light and the trip was organised. In the weeks leading up to our fishing adventure, bait and beer was sorted and after a very long wait we were off.

On our way in the dark hours of the morning the fishing plans were finalised. De Mond on day one. Brandfonfokkentein day two and then De Mond/Die Plaat again on day Three. On day four, our last day, we could fish wherever. Werner didn’t know too much about De Mond but with the success we had the previous couple of weeks I made myself coach and my mouth was very big. I was guaranteeing personal bests and talking fish so big that their photos won’t fit in frames made of sleeper wood.

Day 1: Humble Pie

To say we were properly psyched is a bit of an understatement. We almost ran the last couple of meters to the ocean and made our first casts with our nostrils flaring and steam blowing form our ears. I almost shouted “FREEEDOOOOOM” with my bait as it majestically flew into the ocean!

Now if you are ready for action and nothing happens you have a problem. At one stage I was doing stretches and push ups to get rid of some of the nervous energy and adrenaline pumping through me. I kept on fidgeting in anticipation but it was all in vain.

The day dragged on and the steam blew off and eventually we were throwing long shadows over a very lonely beach. Have you ever seen a dog with his tail between his legs? Have you seen a big mouth stuffed with humble pie? Fishing does that to you, nothing is ever certain. Not a single fish, not a single bite. Nothing the whole bloody day.

I had to take a few big sips of the black poison to help me wash down some of the humble pie still stuck to the roof of my big mouth. Staring into the fire, clutching a glass filled with inspiration we were very philosophical about the “unsuccessful” day that was dying on us. We didn’t catch anything but were lucky to live in the Cape and privileged to be “fishing”. Life was good (most of the time)! We gazed at the sunrise pics on our phones and cheersed on the fishing that could only get better…

Day2: Epic

The plan was to fish Brandfontein but I suggested that we go and try De Mond once more. If we didn’t get anything by late morning we would still have enough time to run down to Brandties and fish the pushing tide.

The walk was a bit slower but the fresh air of the Overberg brought with it some much needed excitement and inspiration. The sea was up a bit more than the previous day and I was hoping this would bring about some inquiries. The tide was going out and to our left was bank that was working nicely so we decided to make our first casts right there.

It didn’t take long and my rod dipped and after a brief fight I landed a nice teenage Steenie in the 50-60cm range. This made me feel a lot better. I was busy releasing this beauty when I saw Werner striking and by the curve in his rod tip I could see he was in as well. He landed a fat black tail.

On my second cast I caught another junior Steenie and followed it up with another big black tail. Things were looking up and we had four fish in the first hour. After the action of the first couple of hours the fish went off the bite and we decided to move.

About 500 meters to our right was a sandbank that was kicking up some sand. The tide was just about to start pushing and We were hoping that with more water on the bank there would be some hungry silwers around. As it turned out there was enough water on the bank already and we started catching fish from the first cast.

I was in first and after a brief fight lost something in the shallows that looked like a big Galjoen. Werner was next to get busy. I was scratching in my bag and when I looked up he was doing the “I’m into something” shuffle toward the ocean. It turned out to be a stunning Kobbie. With his very next cast he was on again. It seemed like a much better fish and I was thinking he’s putting too much pressure on it. I was about to shout to him to take it easy but I was too late, his rod jerked back as the fish came off. The circle hook (very expensive brand) had bent open.

With his 3rd cast he caught another stunning Kob. By now I was getting a little uneasy. I was supposed to be the coach but instead I was getting all the coaching. Luckily it didn’t take long and my lighter setup had a nibble. I saw some movement on my rod tip and put in a slow jog towards my rod. The jog quickly turned into a full sprint (if you can call it that) when my rod started bending in the right direction towards the sea with the fish screaming away.

It was a strange fight at first. The fish gave a couple of head nods but came relatively easily until he got to the lip. That’s when the fun started. I had a new grapnel sinker on and the bloody thing continually got stuck in the sand because it wouldn’t clip over. I had to wait for the fish to swim it free, then I would gain a bit of line until I got stuck again. To make matters worse I got the fish over the lip a few times but then with the waters surge it would wash right back into the gully again. I had a few hart stopping moments but eventually my partner was able to grab him by the gill plate and drag him to safety. A stunning Kobbie of 87cm!

The fish was in a feeding frenzy and almost every cast produced a pull. It was Kob central for a while and we landed 7 stunning fish before they went off the bite. In between we even landed another Steenie that was a debatable 60cm and a Gallie in the mid 30cm range. At one stage I said to Werner I need to take a break. We literally didn’t have time for anything else, it was a mad dash of fishing and rebaiting. But as you know if the fish is on you have to make the best of it. Theres no time for hanna-hanna, tomorrow (like our previous day) you will wish you fished harder when you had the opportunity.

By now it was mid-day and I jokingly suggested that we stick to our plan and leave for Brandfontein. If looks could kill, I would now be six foot six! The fish went off the bite again and we got a bit of a breather to get some much needed fluids and food into the system.

Werner decided he was going to change his approach and made a nice pilchard bait to see if there wasn’t any shad about. I was persisting with the “Steenie” baits. He was in for 30 seconds when he looked over to me with a smile and said, you can change baits. I rebaited and just like that it changed from Kob central to Shad central.

Every throw would produce that familiar tap-tap, then we would reel the bait in slowly, followed by the bang! It was the one Shad after the other. Nice fish to in the 1-2 kg class and it wasn’t just hook and pull either. Every single one put up a incredible fight. You would hook into the fish, followed by the rod standing still in your hand, vibrating hard ass shad into your bones. Then the fish would come forcefully, madly shaking his head back and forth. To get them over the lip was relatively easy but it was as if as soon as they saw sand below them in the shallower water they went mad. Some of them literally stood on their heads trying to spit the hook.

The first couple of fish was awesome and exiting to reel in but after a while it started to hurt. I know you might think that I am over elaborating but these fish were no roll overs and you had to pull them hard to get them out. My left arm and shoulder would burn from the point of engagement until the fish was on the side. I might have been hurting but I wasn’t about to stop fishing. It was the good kind of sore, the type that you can’t get enough of.

It was getting later in the day and the water seemed to turn a deep dark green colour in the lower light conditions. It was high tide as well with the water working and foam everywhere in the hole in front of us. It looked perfect for BIG fish. Fish that would devour the “small fry” we were catching. I had the fishing gear but not the will any more to get dragged around by a monster.

Although I was completely spent I couldn’t stop fishing either. Just one more cast I said to Werner who already had both his rods on the side. He was just smiling by now since it was my third or fourth “last cast”.

When the fish hit my rod I could feel there was something bigger on the other side. He just took off and wasn’t fighting like the rest. He kept low and swam slower using the slight drag in the water to his advantage. Even though I was excited, the burn kicked in and my body was retaliating. It felt like the last 50 meters of a 400 meter race. He never gave in and with the last bit of energy I had left I dragged a nice 62cm Shad to shore. It was the cherry on the cake of an epic day! One of the best fishing days I have ever experienced.

We caught 1 Galjoen, 2 Blacktail, 3 Steenbras, 7 Kobs and 10 Shad all of which was the legal size limit except for two Steenies.

At home it was two tired men staring into the fire. There was no thinking and no talking, just satisfied staring into the fire. We only came back to life after the second double and by the fourth we were ready to go for a night mission on the harbour wall. Its amazing the power the black poison has.

On an epic day we set out to Brandfontein but ended up in Brannewynfontein.

Day three: The little bird

I don’t know who said what to who but the next morning it looked like the ticket box at a One Direction concert. Personally I have never seen De Mond so busy. Normally it’s just one or two vehicles, three at most. But on this Sunday it looked like the whole congregation gathering as if it was communion.

Personally I prefer fishing with the least amount of people around. I’m at my happiest when it’s only myself and a couple of mates on a secluded beach somewhere. Then again the sea belongs to us all and it was good to see some familiar faces and catch up on some long overdue chats. We were all chomping on the bit to get stuck into something and couldn’t wait for the gate to open.

The previous day we shook the monkey off our backs and we were looking forward to a nice relaxing day of fishing, and relaxing it was. There was a couple of fish around but nothing compared to the previous day. It was an awesome day on the beach and we caught another couple of smaller fish that included a 60 odd Steenie and Kobbie which we returned.

The evening we had another braai and ended a incredible weekend with a cheers to many more epic trips together!

Side note:

On the Monday I received a call from a fellow fisherman regarding all the fish we supposedly killed on the Saturday. I really appreciated this, because unlike others at least he was mature enough to ask rather than just assume. Apparently we had to hide all the fish in the sand there was many.

I don’t know if it was a case of one guy telling one story and then the next guy adding a bit until it grew to utter bull, but it almost soured a amazing trip. Regarding the hiding of the fish, I always bury my fish that I keep under sand. It keeps them fresh and prevents seagulls from pecking out their eyes and stomachs.

For the record, we kept 2 Kob, 6 Shad and 2 Blacktails on the Saturday. This might seem excessive to some but it was well within our rights. On Sunday we even caught size fish that was released because we felt we had enough already. Unfortunately the little bird wasn’t there to witness this. Not that he would have said anything, it’s much easier to sing a song of envy…

EPIC! I try and fish at least once a week. It's not always possible though and with family and social commitments taking up most of my free time, fishing sometimes takes a back seat.

#De Mond #elf #Galjoen #kabeljou #kob #kolstert #Overberg fishing #shad #Steenbras #western cape fishing

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bassfishingbychris · 3 years

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Its finally here! Our Spring Gear Review! To kick it off we've got our brand new TacticalBassin Sunglasses and Tactical Bassin Flex Rigs! From there, we're looking at a variety of rods, reels, and lures that will help you catch more bass this Spring!

After 2 long years our sunglasses are finally here! We partnered with Eye Surrender Eyewear and spared no expense on frames, lenses, coatings, finishes, etc... to create the absolute best glasses we possibly could for fishing and daily use.

Next, we partnered with HogFarmer Baits and created a flexible A-Rig to our exact specifications so you no longer have to modify your rigs to get the most out of them. These rigs are ready to fish, exactly how we set them up when we go fishing. From the 6-Wire configuration, to the Owner Hyperwire Split Rings, every detail matches our personal rigs.

From there we start talking rods and reels. We're looking at 4 rods from St. Croix, G Loomis, 13 Fishing, and Savage Gear, as well as a light weight reel from 13 Fishing. To round out the video we take a look at big rats, a squarebill crankbait, and two plastic worms.

All of the gear shown in the video is linked below. The links go directly to Tackle Warehouse where you can see detailed photos and specifications for each item. We've included favorite colors, sizes, and models where applicable, and organized them in the order they appeared in the video for ease of identification.

TacticalBassin Products...

-Eye Surrender TacticalBassin Sunglasses: https://bit.ly/3cLH0kl

-Hog Farmer TacticalBassin Bladed Flex Rig: https://bit.ly/38xd1es

**Available For PRE-ORDER**

-Hog Farmer TacticalBassin Non-Bladed Flex Rig: https://bit.ly/3vhpSez

**Available For PRE-ORDER**

Rods and Reels...

-St. Croix Victory Casting Rods: http://bit.ly/3f4tcEb

Favorite Models: 7'3" Medium Heavy, 7'3" Heavy

-13 Fishing Concept C2 Casting Reel: https://bit.ly/2NlzZhg

Favorite Speed: 7.5:1

-Savage Gear Squad Swimbait Rod: https://bit.ly/3tT8bS2

Favorite Model: 8' heavy

-13 Fishing Omen Black Swimbait Rod: http://bit.ly/390GC01

Favorite Model: 8' Heavy

-G Loomis 7'4" Bladed Jig Rod: http://bit.ly/2QurcHi

Favorite Model: 883C BJR (7'4" Medium Heavy)

Hard and Soft Baits...

-PB Rat 2-Piece Wakebait: http://bit.ly/2OKJZBH

Favorite Colors: Bone Brown, Brown Black

-PB Rat 3-Piece Wakebait: http://bit.ly/3eZJCgZ

Favorite Colors: Bone Brown, Brown Black

-Spro Essential Hunter 65 Squarebill: http://bit.ly/3cSMnOD

Favorite Colors: Black Silver, Nasty Shad, Chart Blue

-Keitech 8" Mad Wag Long Worm: https://bit.ly/3dkFMLl

Favorite Colors: Blue Fleck, Green Pumpkin Pepper, Junebug

-Big Bite Baits 6" Squirrel Tail Worm: http://bit.ly/3c7I9Ui

Favorite Colors: Tilapia, Junebug Red Flake, Easy Money

Want TacticalBassin Gear?

TacticalBassin Apparel and Lure Designs: http://bit.ly/38YpPIz

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josephvossruss34 · 6 years

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Jackall Introduces Chop Cut and More at ICAST 2018

Chop Cut Topwater Lure — With an asymmetrical prop design to ensure proper rotation and creating different sounds depending on retrieve speed, Jackall’s new ChopCut topwater lure features a front wire with attached swivel. Anglers can cast freely without their line tangling with the prop, plus a swiveling feathered front hook helps prevent bass from spitting the lure. Jackall puts a special coating on both the front and rear treble hooks for easier penetration.

The 3.25-inch ChopCut topwaters weigh in at 0.8-ounces and are offered in six colors – green frog, black white bone, RT chartreuse gill, bone white, skeleton bone and HL bluegill. They retail for $22.99.

RISER BAIT 009PS Surface — With the same unique upward angled lip at the Riser 007R, the new Riser 009PS offers a cupped lip and bigger body to create an even more fish-attracting disturbance. With gill slits to generate bubbles as it comes through the water, the 3.3-inch, .75-ounce Riser 009PS can easily be cast with baitcasting gear.

They are offered in six colors – bluegill, bone white, chartreuse black back pearl, Mirror Wakasagi, RT Holo Minnow and threadfin shad.

Spring 2018 Introductions – now available

GRINCH Topwater – Creating a splashing sound when retrieved on top to attract fish from long distance, the Jackall Grinch topwater lures feature an upside-down paddle tail design. When retrieved in quickly, the tail will kick hard underwater, and will keep on kicking even when fishing it through heavy cover.

Imitating a small baitfish – it’s 5.3-inches long – the Grinch has a slender frog-like body shape to attract bass and trigger their instinct to eat. Offered in six fish-catching colors – black, Chartreuse Strike Gill, Gold Gill, white, clear silver, and blueback chartreuse shad, the new Jackall Grinch topwater retails for $9.99 (USD). Jackall now also offers replacement paddle tails.

RISER BAIT 007R Surface – Rising to the surface almost immediately at the start of the retrieve, the new Jackall Riser Bait 007R is designed with a unique upward lip making it the perfect topwater lure. Anglers will quickly realize this is not just another typical minnow or shad bait designed lure – Jackall provides a bait that will cast long and allow anglers to work lots of water, with its unique topwater action triggering bites.

At 2.75-inches and weighing in at just over 1/4-ounces (.3 oz.), the Riser Bait 007R is offered in six colors – RT Holo Minnow, RT Minnow, Mirror Wakasagi, bone white, bluegill and chartreuse back pearl. They retail for $14.99 (USD).

DOWZSWIMMER Swimbait – Jackall takes on the big bait-big fish concept with the new DowzSwimmer, a 6.7-inch three-segment glide swimbait. The segmented body provides like-like action that glides through the water in a ‘S-motion’ during a straight retrieve. Anglers can create even more action and make it dart wildly when twitched.

A wider joint on the front lure segment and a narrower rear joint is the key design behind the DowzSwimmer’s S-motion swimming action when retrieved. Swiveling bottom treble hooks rotate 360-degrees, keeping big bass from throwing the bait. To target fish further down into the water column, a sinker eyelet is included to attach a small weight to the slow-floating lure.

The DowzSwimmer weighs in at .6-ounces and is offered in six colors – RT Spawn Gill, RT Largemouth Bass, RT Trout, RT Ghost Wakasagi, RT Ghost Scale Minnow and Hitch. They retail for $49.99 (USD).

YAMMY FISH Soft Stickbait – The new Jackall Yammy Fish are soft stickbaits perfect for finesse techniques. Anglers can cast them long distances with no sinker needed. The high-density plastic body holds up to numerous bites.

Offered in wide assortment of fish-catching colors, including Golden Shad, Green Pumpkin Fish, Melon Copper, natural baitfish, Red Cola, chartreuse green pumpkin pepper, BM Shiner and Oxblood, the Yammy Fish stickbaits are 3-inches in length, retail for $4.99 (USD), and come eight baits per bag.

RHYTHM WAVE Soft Swimbait — All four sizes – 2.8-, 3.8-, 4.8- and 5.8-inches – are now offered in eight different colors with the additional of two new colors – SS Shad and Blue Pearl. They retail for $4.99 (USD).

For more information Jackall Lures – visit: http://www.jackall-lures.com

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