Kick Out the Jams !

I don’t know what happened, sometimes I wake up and I really need something to set me on a good mood for the day, so I went through my record collection and today I’ve found that! I beleive it is a song full of energy the kind of thing I needed to here to have a nice day. This recording from Kick Out the Jams by MC5 is the Sinclair editing from Detroit’s concert in 1969, I hope you’ll like it, it is dedicated to our friends from Detroit, This is Fly. Paris, Tim, we miss you!  

Summer film: Expencive Porno Movie

Hey hey hey! Summer’s here, the rivers are dry? Here’s to have fun, go surfing! It’s good for the mind and the body, it attracks new friendships and you’ll smell good! If you have any doubt, just watch : Expencive Porno Movie! Shall we shoot the same film for flyfishing to see if it brings more fishermen to our favorit sport?

Mouchingmobile

Soon summer holidays will be knocking at your door, be sure to be ready to take the whole family fihsing! Nothing can stop us on our quest for comfort by the waters.

Vanity

Le mouching, Fly fishing, toreroThat particular day, fishing was of a deplorable mediocrity.  So I decided to pack my bags and with my usual elegance, climb the little hillock where I had parked my motorcycle.

A couple of tourists were picnicking there. The man, nice looking, was napping on an air mattress that had no air (his snoring drowned out the song of the cicadas), from his left hand dangled an empty bottle of a doctored alcohol.

The woman was posing and taking photos, that annoying habit called taking “selfies”.  She was pouting like the copycat Bridget Bardots of the 60’s and posturing, her stout stature rendered her ridiculous and silly. Read more…

Love for animals.

Le mouching, fly fishing, elevageWe just received the following letter and we couldn’t not publish it.

Dear Mouching,

I take my pen today to write you about my  recent, singular adventure and to humbly ask your advice.

Three years ago today, from an adventurous uncle, I inherited a Trout farm; said trout destined to be consumed by my contemporaries.

I quickly learned the profession which, as you certainly know, is quite simple. Every morning after my breakfast I feed them: I toss buckets of grain of the brand (censured), which are supposed to grow them to a size of: “a portion of trout”. I repeat the operation before the evening aperitif and everyone is content.

Once a year I go the Supermarket U to sell my beasts, pocket my check and pass the evening with Irma, the little whore at Montelimar. Read more…

The Maisonneuve carp.

Le mouching, fly fishing, carpeI was just about to stick my fork into a wing of the Garlic Chicken that my adorable wife had cooked up for me when the telephone rang, it stopped my salivating which had reached the point of escaping my mouth.

“Hello Flèche, it’s your neighbor, Pierre… can you come over in a hurry? It’s a matter of life or death!”

“Be generous with your neighbor, one never knows!”, so goes the Finnish proverb. I quickly put aside the chicken wing not having the courage to battle, at day’s end, with nordic proverbs. Read more…

Anti-nazi catfish.

Le mouching, fly fishing, OderI would bet my right hand that few of you have passed your fishing vacations at Krosno Odrzanskie.

Never the less, if there’s one place in the world of barbares where I would like to wet my line, it is certainly Krosno Odrzanskie and the reason is quite simple.

A river runs through the middle of this charming village, the Oder, to be exact; the river also serves as the border between Germany and Poland. Well that’s nothing to laugh about you might say with a note of impatience in your voice. Just wait a minute my friends, I’m getting there.

Frolicking in this river, besides the charming native blondes, are Catfish that, in terms of size and weight, would make the most obese citizens of Oklahoma seem like anorexic mosquitos. Read more…

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Le mouching, fly fishing, guerreWe live in a period that some already call the “Tragedy of Modern History” and of that, my friends, there is no doubt.

The climate of violence with which we are confronted every day is without equal and borders on absolute horror.

Only a week ago, a convoy of “spoon” fishermen (coming from a country which prudence prevents me from naming) descended the banks of certain rivers and in front of everyone, infants included (who will remain traumatized all their lives!), fished and filled their baskets with an important number of Abelettes, Gardon and Chubs and even Trout (planted, but still…), innocent victims of these monsters. Read more…