Fuck Fly Fishing: We Want To Catch Fish, Not Flies!

When self-described hobbyist Bobby Carver finally got his fishing license, he was too proud to turn down the Bass Pro salesman for a year of couples fly fishing classes. Carver, a single, retired volleyball referee who had never heard of fly fishing, couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been duped. But not just duped – no, he was mother fucking duped.

Carver called Bass Pro to schedule his first fly fishing class, it went straight to voicemail. It was then that he was convinced the $2,000 classes to catch flies were not only fake, but insulted his fucking intelligence. The last time Carver got tricked like this, he ended up with almost $10,000 worth of fake fucking Beanie Babies®. 

“Would you go ‘deer-fishing’? I think not. Pft. Flies don’t even eat fish. I can see through your bed of lies,” Carver told Sports Riot. 

Doubling down on this potential failed investment, Carver posted flyers around his Michigan town advertising a ‘Fly Fishers Meet-up’ at a local river. 

With a turnout of over 400 fly fishing enthusiasts, Carver was shocked to discover the community surrounding this very ‘real’ sport. Carver’s “I’m here to catch fish and chew bubblegum and I’m all out of gum,” sign did help garner good faith in the crowd despite it being a really, really large sign to fit all that font.

“I’m here to catch fish, not fucking flies!” Carver shouted to the crowd. “I will not be lied to. Fish. Not flies!” The crowd cheered. “Fuck flies! Get. That. Fish!” The crowd cheered more.

“Fish. Not flies! Fish. Not flies!” The crowd chanted. Again and again. 

And then, silence. Lines were drawn, and the fishing had begun. You could hear a pin drop on the lake. Total focus on the craft.

And as for Bobby Carver? He went down as a local legend who stood up to the Big Fly-Fish powers that be. And also, has a few Beanie Babies he’d like to sell to you.