By 
I am currently sipping on a Labatt Blue (a great Canadian beer) and checking the internet for the first time in two days. So I just read Tinz’s post What’s that, Marc? I couldn’t hear you over the roar of the ocean.
NOTE: This photo is a dramatic reinactment of my fish, but according to the site it was the same size.
Tinz, I was sad to hear that you are so enthused by an ocean. I would have helped correct you sooner, but I was too busy being a man to fix your boyish delights.
I’ve been to the ocean. It’s cute. But after about two seconds of looking at waves and sky you’ve just about got the picture. I’d understand if you were an eight year old, or a grandma who couldn’t do much physical work, but you are a strapping lad who should be out making his fortune in a man’s world as I am.
While you are sitting on the sand, indulging your prepubescent oceanic pleasure, I was hauling a twenty-five pound fish from the depths of Lake of the Woods. We journeyed by map and compas through territory first scouted by Pierre-Serge* La Verendrye in the mid 18th Century.
I built a a cooking fire from wood scavenged from the surrounding forest, and cooked fresh fish on an open flame fro three generations of the Muszynski family. And what were you doing? Growing soft.
I know manhood is scary, but when you get back, I’ll try to help you find it.
And Brian, I pre-farted on your pillow, just in case this happened. Have fun sleeping in my latent farts. (A brief response to Brian’s While you’ve been on vacation, I farted on all your pillows.)
*Pierre-Serge is my best guess at this French explorer’s first name.
