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.

 

Birthright

The threat of losing our public lands looms large. That threat grows, passing like wildfire through halls of Congress and state capitols, spreading its invasive rhetoric in our communities. People with soft hands and expensive suits tell us “It’s just transfer. It’s not like we’re selling them.”

It’s not just transfer. And it is a big deal.

 

Raise Your Voice for America’s Public Lands – sign the Trout Unlimited Public Lands Petition

Check out the stories of TU’s “30 days of Public Land” Here

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.

Better Enjoy It While You Can.

The divestiture of public land to the States makes me angry. I mean really damn angry and the question is why?  Superficially I don’t fit the demographic that supports the “let’s keep the Fed’s managing the land” side of the argument. I’m a forty-year-old white male who’s married with no kids. Instead of writing this post I should be abusing my male privilege, sitting back mulling my lack of genetic legacy and letting the place burn. Because when it comes to the future I’m guessing my knees have got just enough cartilage left in them for another twenty years of stumbling through steelhead creeks and carrying dead ungulates up and down mountains. After that, the chances are I’ll be done. And there’s no way there will be enough environmental degradation in that time frame to impact my hunting and fishing in any meaningful way.

But here’s the thing, I’m an immigrant. I chose to come to the United States and became a citizen. For me, the idea of Freedom is synonymous with public land. Where I grew up in Europe there is no concept of public lands for hunting and fishing. Private landowners control not only access but also the animals and fish that live on their estates. Hunting and Fishing are the purview of the aristocracy, merchant bankers, and hedge fund managers. If you can’t pay then you can’t play.

In the United States things are different. We, The People, own millions of acres of pristine wilderness. Wilderness we can all legally hunt and fish without having to glance over our shoulders for some irate blunderbuss wielding aristocrat. It’s a unique situation. But times they’re a changing. There’s some major fuckery going down in the Senate. The crux of the matter is a Republican move to sell off public land to the States. No big deal, right? Except it is a big deal. Land held in a State trust doesn’t guarantee public access. In fact many States forbid access without the user, that’s you,  purchasing a permit or a lease. Don’t believe me? Here’s what Colorado’s State Land Board’s has to say on the matter:

“State trust lands are not open to public use except when leased to a specific party (private or public).  Any interested party may apply for a recreation lease on state trust land. Common uses include hunting, fishing, hiking and horseback riding.“

It doesn’t stop there. Once the land is transferred to the States, they are compelled by legislation or their constitution to manage it for profit. If they can’t do that then they are obliged to sell it. The amount of land that has been sold off by Western States, land that they received in their Enabling acts, is staggering. Nevada alone received 2.1 million acres at statehood and has sold over 1.9 million acres. And Nevada isn’t an outlier, all the Western States have done the same and there’s no reason to think that they won’t keep selling the land they receive in the future.

So the questions shouldn’t be why the hell am I so angry about the transfer of public lands to the States? The question is why aren’t you?

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.

Trick Out Your Trout Stream

opener2

PSSSHT!