Oh hi. You were searching for porn, but now you’re here. Ha.

It’s time again for Fun With Buster’s Search Stats, which is nearly as lazy as posting YouTube videos but without the additional effort necessary to type something even marginally related to fly fishing.

Honestly, we were just checking the stats following the most recent western PA bigfoot story, because we inadvertently became a destination for precisely those searches back in 2008 or so, which we found hilarious. It appears that letting the place go dark and then moving to WordPress has eliminated that particular comedy vector, which MAKES US VERY SAD, GOOGLE!

1058

Graham Roumieu – http://www.roumieu.com/ – buy book!

So the search stats are now dominated by the word “fuck,” which, ok, isn’t terribly surprising to anyone who knows us. Sorry Mom. Some of the more entertaining examples include:

fish time fucking
fishing for as to fuck full
fucking is right or wrong
wrong way fucking
fuck after fish work
new fishing fuck american
wwwfuck me buster

OK so you were looking for weird porn and landed here because you’re desperate and will click on anything. We’re only sort of sorry for disappointing you, and not at all for missing an opportunity to get these new readers. We hope you kept trying. Fortune favors the bold, and all that.

aboy stands at river and off with finger fucks wally

Dear Wally: Google responds best when you close with “warmest regards” or “love always.”

big hackles fuck

I’ve said this very thing before tossing the fly in the bluegill box. Those fuckers will eat anything.

fuck you bat signal

I could never understand why the Penguin was such a fearsome villain. I mean, he’s not at all physically imposing, and who’s not going to recognize him and call Commissioner Gordon before he waddles away with the big heavy gold bird statue or whatever? Testify, Oswald.

real fucking recreation area

Someone was very frustrated by all of the fake ones?

fuck me while i pollute the air while it stinks x

I’ve got nothing here, but it’s included for, um, posteriorerity. You’re welcome. Now for the rest:

limitations associated with marginal cotton

While I’m sure there are some, or even many, I can’t imagine needing to Google for them, or being presented with a link to this place and thinking “THAT is just what I need right there!”

light sabre wound stickers

Fly fishers have a thing for stickers. Normally they’re from gear manufacturers, but we’re not here to pass judgement on your particular nerdflavor (looking at you, spey geeks).

spey o rama tumblr

tumblr_ncr0mpsvaB1sqsszco1_r1_400

flycandy

Ok, got it. More Fly Candy photos. We can do that. On it.

 

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Gone, Gone, Like the Snows of Yesteryear

“The ugly fallout from the American Dream has been coming down on us at a pretty consistent rate since Sitting Bull’s time — and the only real difference now […] is that we seem to be on the verge of ratifying the fallout and forgetting the Dream itself.” – Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail ’72

dogs

Turn around, puppy, she’s standing right there.

If you’re lucky in 2016, maybe you’re better off than your parents or grandparents. Maybe you got a better education, or are able to own a home. Maybe you’ve got a pension (ha, Google it). Maybe you’re simply able to negotiate a stroll without being harassed, beaten, tazed, or straight up shot dead. And maybe your own kids will be better off than you are. That’s what most parents hope for, anyway, but look at the rising costs and disappearing opportunity for nearly everything, and that hope might feel increasingly desperate.

Those of us lucky enough to be U.S. citizens have a heritage that’s the envy of the world. Millions of acres of wild land and clean water are bequeathed to all of us as a happy accident of birth, or the fortunate benefit of negotiating a long and costly immigration process. And in the absence of property or money or opportunity, we can at least pass this inheritance along to our kids, as long as we’re vigilant and the well isn’t poisoned.

And, you know, if it isn’t stolen by greedheads like the American Lands Council and their pet politicians, who are attempting to force the divestiture of our public land and water to the states, where they can be, or in some cases must be sold off to private interests who can keep your kids’ dirty feet from soiling it ever again.

Screw that. Start here, and here, but don’t stop there. Raise hell. Don’t be forced to tell the kids that you’re sorry, but you just didn’t do enough. It’s easy to type words about heritage and the home of the brave, but that doesn’t amount to a hell of a lot when they’re willing to set the dogs on you.

April Fish

Remain vigilant. Seems to me, though, that this should be easier for fisherfolk than for others. Assuming everybody’s lying, I mean.

Punchline: it’s also the trout opener in NY. Set up your own joke, you’re so damn funny.

aprilfools2010loresq

Freakishly jaunty in a fever dream sort of way

…in France, those who are fooled on April 1 are called the “Poisson d’Avril” (the April Fish). A common prank (especially among school-aged children) is to place a paper fish on the back of an unsuspecting person. When the paper fish is discovered, the victim is declared a “Poisson d’Avril.” While it is not clear of the origins of fish being associated with April 1, many think the correlation is related to zodiac sign of Pisces (a fish), which falls near April.

A paper fish. On your back. Haha jerk, now you’re an April Fish. Yeah that’s hilarious.

And Then There’s Just Not Giving a Shit

This sort of douchebaggery should be painful.

slob

You should be forced to swallow this, you damn dirty chimp.

You watch, some Saturday afternoon right after cartoons, humanity will be wiped out by ridiculous alien invaders, and it WON’T be because they want our planet or our women or our precious bodily fluids, oh no. It’ll be because we’re bigger jackasses than them. Nice going, Skeeter.

romano

DURRRR!

Lake Titicaca

Dear Asshat Who Low-Holed That Sweet Tailout From Under Me Yesterday: Yes, you’re a pinner, and there’s no doubting the effectiveness of your floaty toy and sac antics. But you’re also a thoughtless inconsiderate slob of a toolshed no matter what gear you’re using. As for not being thrown in the drink, you’re welcome, but I hope that when your wife picked you up later she promptly punched you square in your stupid face. She looked like the type. Anyway, now your backside gets to enjoy a moment of interwebs fame with a juvenile bit of Photoshop fun.

lowholio

“I am ALL bunghole!”

Calling H.G. Wells

timemachine

It’s worth a shot.

The final couple of work days before a fishing trip are probably best used as an exercise in patience, something fisherfolk are supposed to have in voluminous reserve, but for me they’re mostly spent almost telling coworkers to go piss up a rope. My brain checked out a few days ago, so making time pass by being productive, while laudable and maybe even expected, is a joke. So instead I’m left searching for alternatives, like:

  • Chew off own face (not arms, I’ll be needing those)
  • Create ridiculous new fly designs, give them names like “spleen venter” and “jeebus fucking fuck”
  • Stand outside cafeteria window, grease ferrules while performing rod-section-up-the-nose trick
stevemartin

TA DAAAH!

  • Piss up a rope
  • Write self-evaluation, give self high marks for “not murdering you all in your sleep”
  • Tie on big pyramid sinker, practice double-hauling at lunchtime joggers
  • Get head start on three-days-in-wool-and-waders body funk, offer hugs to middle management
  • Attend status meeting, assign new names to coworkers like “Bait Bucket Joe,” “Pete the Pusillanimous Pinner” and “U. Barking Idiot”
  • Stabby-type foul-mouthed blog posts, try to make keys fly off
  • Take steroids, get huge, bend time and space

Any and all further suggestions are welcome in the comments. Well, they technically won’t be welcome until next week, but you get the idea.

Bush Admin Attempts a Parting Upper-Decker

deckerus4

Awwww MAN!

Apparently not content with trashing the kid’s room and putting out their Kools on the floor, the Bush administration is shooting for a last-minute rogering of the Clean Air Act in the form of a new EPA rule weakening pollution regulations for power plants, allowing them to increase emissions without adding controls.

And as a special bonus, they’re also “expected to decide in November on another eleventh-hour rule that would allow more power plants to be built near national parks and wilderness areas.”

Whatever happened to just pardoning a few crooks?

The Extra Stabby Fisherman

The last couple of days of the grind before a long-anticipated trip to a tailwater full of big wild trout during the green drake hatch are good for nothing more than slowly wearing down your teeth from chewing through the restraints. Meetings should be avoided until the return (if the bastards are lucky), and the TPS reports might as well be written in Vedic Sanskrit. The gear is piled and the launcher is primed and more flies should probably be tied but, as Howard Beale would say, I’m out of bullshit.

56e6b9b853f44e6d7c411fa896328f85

I’d say you were nothing but a scurvy little spider.

I wish I had a million dollars. Hot dog!