Man I don't know why it happened, but those guys at the Coalition of Confused Coastal Fishermen pissed me off today. That's a bunch of old rednecks up by Houston way. So they had a "do" up by Surfside, darn near to Louisiana, and I said I couldn't make it. My mistake was adding some lame excuses, namely that Lori didn't want no part of it (the tranny problem was exaggerated a little). So these rednecks "call me out" and say I'm a fool and an idiot. Heck, I've been called worse but a grown man just doesn't "get called out" without having a fight.
For you gals, "getting called out" means you have to "put up your dukes."
So I'm out of there. I never did like Houston - life's too short to live there. I though Surfside was a hell-hole dump next to DOW Chemical, which it is. The air pollution is intense and at night you can read the newspaper just from the light given off from the refinery flares. Screw that; no need to even "answer the call."
And you know, having folks like Randy Rogers and Fred Mallet and some other really good local fishermen, well I just don't feel all that confused anymore. I feel confident. I like the lower coast and especially right near South Padre Island.
No, I didn't leave any nasty mesages or threaten to open a can o' Whup Ass, which we all know is really Cheese Whiz. I just moved on. Maybe I'm growing up ... for a change. /Sammy