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!

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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.

Free the Collect!

“On the lower end, two fair-sized streams drained the interior. One rose from a series of springs that poured forth from hillocks around today’s 20th Street and Fifth Avenue. The Saponickan band living there called it Ishpetenga. It flowed southwest into the Hudson near the mouth of another trout stream. This one had its origins in a deep, fair-sized pond where Worth and Centre streets now cross. It flowed northwesterly, almost in a straight line, and became the course for today’s Canal Street. The pond was known as The Collect. The Dutch name for this trout pond was derived from one of its beaches, which they which they called Kalk Hoek – Chalk Point or Chalk Hook. It was given the name because the early Dutch settlers came here to collect the shells of freshwater mussels, which were ground and added to the mortar used to build their homes. When the English took over management of Manhattan in 1664 they assumed many of the Dutch words already in use for geographic features. Their inelegant pronunciation of Dutch turned the monosyllabic word “Kalk” (or “Chalk”) into the dissylable “Kal-leck”- hence, “Collect.” The pond’s name had nothing to do with collecting water in the area, as some writers have suggested, although it did have two small feeder streams. For decades, in the 1600s and 1700s, it was the source of drinking water for all of lower Manhattan’s residents. The Collect and its associated streams contained brook trout as late as 1740.”

– from Brook Trout by Nick Karas

rmzXV

…and a shovel and a fly rod!

Wrung Out and Hung Up

Since ice-out the whole world’s brimful of water and overflows with each passing blow, it seems. Down low the trillium are blooming with wet feet, but nobody can tell whether the Hendricksons have read the memo, and we’re all standing around at the pull-offs looking sideways at each other and not daring to complain about too much water. When the sun finally emerges it’s instantly warm, and we groan and stretch and make note of the fattening buds on the branches, and oh did you see the stickjam blew out up there by the Wall Pool. Yeah, the pool that’s had a standing wave in it for weeks, right, and we’re off to have a look at this meadow or that little feeder, splash-crashing through widening potholes full of the same caramel-colored water that’s now carving off the oxbow up by Bill’s place. It’s enough to make a guy quit drinking just so he can start again.

headtilt

Still no biscuit?

On the way home there’s a guy in red-checkered flannel way out in his yard, reclining in a lawn chair next to his burn pile and smoking a cigar. Damned if he isn’t going to burn something. Viking points for hanging tough, flannel man, might not rain tonight.

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.

AMFF: Buster To The Rescue

So it seems that the American Museum of Fly Fishing has found itself in a public relations pickle. Invited Cheney to speak and everything went KABLOOM, and then the Dick didn’t even have the courtesy to turn them down. Hoisted with their own Boga. Bad days. Crazy days.

But jeez, it’s a gnurly little museum and we’d hate to see it consigned to the ever-filling dustbin of Things That Should Be Cool But…you know? So to offer a helpful hand the mad brains at Buster Labs (boiler room, left past the incinerator, put lotion in basket, ask for Epol) have schemed up a way for the AMFF to gracefully put down the Dick and back away with their reputations intact…by making them a donation they can’t refuse. And this way, they get a dinner speaker AND an exhibit in one neat package. Brilliant, no? AMFF, we give you

The Hideous Jabbering Head of Theodore Gordon

ted

Peanuts hyah!

Hello! The great charm of fly-fishing is that we are always learning! Hello! Thank you! The angling fever is a very real disease and can only be cured by the application of cold water and shooting your lawyer friend in the face! Hello! It is the constant – or inconstant – change, the infinite variety in fly-fishing that binds us fast, but it is not a sufficient basis for a sound, comprehensive energy policy! I think they’re in the last throes, if you will, of a sport that is never the same on any two days of the year. Thank You! Hello!

It, uh, just sorta goes on like that. Epol can certainly probably get that fixed up by the fall, at least long enough to deliver a speech. Then the AMFF can just put it under glass and presto, instant tourist attraction! Just imagine all the big fat Orvis customers students of our noble pursuit arriving to have a word with the reanimated jabbering head of the father of American dry fly fishing! They’ll have to hold another fundraiser just to afford all the new parking they’ll need!

Here’s the good and bad thing, though…to be perfectly honest, it’s a little bit unstable, and the quicker they get it under glass the better (and keep the fluids topped off). Which is why they really have no choice but to cancel the Dick. Really, what’ll it be, a once-in-a-lifetime procurement and a historic speech by a luminary of the sport and a marvel of mad science, or Dick Friggin Cheney?

That’s right.

Anyway, are we awesome or what? Buster is confident that we will, in fact, be greeted as liberators by the AMFF. And they are welcome.

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!