Men Who Go Fishing, Jass Richards

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Men Who Go Fishing

Jass Richards (


I understand now why men like fishing.

First, there’s the noise of the motor.  Men like noise.  They think they’re the ones making it.  So they think they sound like a lion or a bear.  They think they’re threatening.  Instead of just bloody annoying.

Second, there’s the stink of the exhaust fumes.  Men like stink.  Most of them are still farting at the dinner table and snickering about it.

Third, since they often go fishing with other men, they get to compete.  Men like competing.  Anywhere, anytime, with anyone, about anything.

First one of the men will stand, perhaps casually, explaining to his buddies that he can get a better cast.  A mild discomfort will start to spread among the other guys, but not one of them will be able to explain it.  Certainly it’s not that they’re afraid their buddy may fall out of the boat.  Eventually a second guy will stand.  And his discomfort will go away.  Or at least recede a bit.  Depending on how tall he is, relative to the first guy.  The remaining two guys will become even more incomprehensibly uncomfortable, until eventually they too will stand.  There.  That’s better.  Despite the increasing precariousness of the whole.  Then the first guy will stand up on one of the seats, and almost immediately another one will stand on the prow.  Of course the lot of them will likely go overboard, but apparently that’s not a foreseeable result.

Lastly, there’s something very sexual, very masturbatory about reeling in, moving one’s hand around and around at cock level.   No wonder they wanna be a rock star strutting around on stage strumming an instrument slung low just right there.  And no wonder men go fishing for hours.

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