Throughout history those individuals who have consistently shown great judgement, made great choices, and have excelled at their particular avocation have become the target of mimics the world over. Henry Ford, Steve Jobs, and other great innovators have experienced this form of mimicry, sometimes at great cost to them. Now it is said that mimicry is the greatest form of flattery; however, it is my experience that when done for the sake of claiming another’s successes as your own, then at that point it ceases to be flattering. I now can be added to this list.

     As stated in my earlier blog about my best friend “Putz”, when he was about 20, he latched onto me like a booger you just can’t shake off your finger. It was at this point that he began his habitual mimicry. From the first time I took him fishing he watched, with unparalleled focus, every move I made. When I taught him how to tie a hook on his line he sat as though mesmerized by the very act. When I finished, however, he looked as confused as a nursing baby at a topless bar. I will, however, give him credit in his persistence. Eventually he began to grasp the concept of a proper knot. To this day when I watch him fish, it is like looking in a mirror, with the exception of the fact that he never has a fish on the other end. But I’m afraid his mimicry has now gone too far.

     As I explained in my previous post, I had made Putz aware of my intentions to begin this blog and that I would offer him access so that he could try and make himself feel better by being allowed to post his own (convoluted) memory of how things were. However, this was not enough. You see, as has been the case now for almost 30 years, Putz is once again attempting to flatter me by starting his own blog. On it he will attempt to persuade you of his fishing prowess and his longstanding life as an avid outdoors-man. He will attempt to counter the accuracy of my memories with mythical tales of exploits that are not a part of reality.

     Although I anticipate his fabricated attacks, as his friend and mentor, I must take the higher ground, the righteous road, the route of humility, and applaud his efforts. After all, everyone enjoys great fiction. Thus, I have added a link to his blog on my blogroll. I am sure it will make for some very entertaining reading.

     One final word of caution about my friend and his blog. Putz happens to be one of the preeminent photoshop masters in the country. He has the ability to make Hillary look like a runway model. It is not at all difficult for him to seamlessly place a fish in a photo where it otherwise might not exist.

        I think it only fair to relate to you a story about my best friend, we’ll call him Putz. I feel it is necessary to include him early on due to the fact that he is a large part of all of my fishing stories from the age of about 17 on. Also, I have informed him of my intention to write this blog and he requested the ability to counter my memories with his own. Keep in mind, however, that Putz is a great deal older than me and has a tendency to suffer from memory loss; thus I would recommend caution, in that the stories that he might post on this blog may contain great inconsistencies and fabrications; whereas, information contained in my writings are generally factual with perhaps a modicum of artistic liberty.

     As I mentioned before, Putz is considerably older than I am. Well perhaps not in a chronological sense (it is about three years difference), but in a physical sense he is simply falling apart. I, however, still look the same as I did in high school; maybe even better. Unfortunately the added years of his life have done nothing to enhance his wisdom. I, on the other hand, am fraught with great wisdom. Anyway, Putz and I were not friends in high school. He was a Senior when I was a Sophomore. He was a wanna-be athlete (basketball, track), I was a star football player . I had grown up as an outdoors-man; he was as close to being a pure city boy as someone raised in Bishop could possibly be. In fact I still remember when he and another of his friends decided that they would impress the girls and began carrying briefcases to school. Mind you, this was Bishop California during the Disco era. Can you say DWEEB? Everyone else did.

     Needless to say, after Putz realized what a great guy I was and that I could add to his manhood by introducing him to the great outdoors, he quickly became like the booger you just can’t shake off of your finger, and, eventually became like an old pair of sneakers that I just can’t part with; old, broken down, smelly, but near and dear to my heart.

     Herein lies the problem; because of his late start into the realm of becoming a sportsman, he has the propensity to want to claim many of my successes as his own. As a friend I tend to let it slide when he tells others how much better a fisherman he is than me; however, he has now come to a place where he believes his own stories. It is as though they have somehow become his reality. Fortunately, the stories that he will tell generally include me; therefore, if you have the opportunity to read any of his posts forthwith, know that most of his successes can really be attributed to me.

     Until my next post, beware any untruths or modifications that may be posted by those other than me .

With all sincerity and complete honesty

Troutchaser

      It’s funny how the mind can take us back to times from which we are far removed. In this, the beginning of what I hope will be a long stay in the blogging world, I plan to share stories of old (old being relative) about my childhood exploring the many fishing holes throughout the Eastern Sierra, and keeping readers up to date on my latest exploits seeking monster native trout  in the streams, rivers, sloughs, and lakes of this unspoiled high desert valley that will always be my home.

       I look forward to hearing from my readers and I am very willing to discuss anything related to life in the great outdoors. I wish you the best and stay tuned.

MJB