It has come to our attention that the feds are about to reach into our waders and pull out some cash for the privilege of fishing in coastal waters. This is more than irritating, this is yet another usurpation of natural rights of man. This is sticking one’s nose where it doesn’t belong. Well, no one will be sticking his nose into the Skunkmeister’s vintage waders. The Skunkmeister will never pay money to not catch fish. He does it for nothing.

First, they wanted to register all guns. The Skunkmeister said no. Next they will be wanting to register all those dangerous long things with reels and monofilament. The Skunkmeister says no, and will stand guard over the old homestead. Here is the best way to handle it, like we do it in the country.

If you are one of those durn fools that gave up your guns or even registered them with the so-called authorities, well, you’re gonna have to do this:

Here is the technique, with a bit of verbal direction for the revenooer when he comes to take your stuff:

Got the picture? Get those double treble hooks into that pile of guano when he shows up to harass you, then reel him in a bit. He may put up a fight, but probably not much. The last one I got didn’t. Then sit in the back of the old truck, keeping a tight line on the miscreant, while the missus drives the truck around for a while. Maybe to that mall 30 miles away. Then let that revenooer go and drive yourself back home to have a mason jar full of moonshine and a few laughs. That’ll be the last you see of him.

The Skunkmeister doesn’t get mad about losing his favorite plug, he gets even.

No one makes a fool out of the Skunkmeister. Outside help is unnecessary.

As the Skunkmeister says, “You can’t lose em if you don’t hook em.” You can’t simply stay home if you want to be the worst, so we grabbed an ice cream cone up the street and went on down to the favorite fishing spot known locally as an undisclosed location.

We were using a new lightweight rod with some light line, just to make it sporting, and had our favorite rattling surface plug tied on, along with no steel leader, because we forgot to bring one. We tossed a couple of casts out into what was obviously an area devoid of fish, just to limber up, and then slid over a tad into an area boiling with ravenous bluefish. The action was hot, and one beauty went for the plug. It was just like fighting a feisty mother-in-law at the other end of a hangman’s noose, if we remember correctly, but we hung on for a while and then generously let the big fella slip the hook a few yards out. Here is a fine close-up photo of this magnificent fish.

Another cast, another bluefish, this one bigger than the last. The too-small rod with the too-light line was bent like a cheap pretzel, but we fought for what seemed like a minute or two until this whopper was right alongside. Getting a little concerned about damaging the Skunkmeister’s well-earned reputation so early in the season, we decided to let this monster loose before landing him. To reward him, we even let him take our favorite plug along with a few feet of line so he could have a souvenir of his close call with the famed Skunkmeister. We can hear him right now, bragging to his buddies down in the bay about how tough he is.

Five casts, two big blues lost, the favorite plug gone. Not bad for 15 minutes work. Do you want to be bad, too? Then stay tuned to the Skunk Report! Slack lines!