Good grief! I had just about given up the ghost and was in the process of packing up my rod and reel, because I hadn’t had a bite in what seemed to be forever, except for a little nibble I got some time ago from Tom Isherwood (which in turn gave us both pleasure).
I thought for sure I was going to be skunked, when all of a sudden, a letter in the Western from Mr. Geoff Burton, April 15, caught my eye. A tongue lashing in regards to my criticism of Otto Sturhahn engaging in a conversation with two on-duty traffic policemen. Holy cow, talk about hook, line and sinker. Biggest darn large-mouth near snapped my line. A trophy keeper, if I may say so myself. Matter of fact, well worth getting him stuffed and mounted, or vice versa.
Come on Geoff Burton; let me pull your other leg, it’s got bells on too. You hit the nail right on the head, with your rant and chatter, about freedom of rights. My sentiments exactly. I don’t think you would recognize humour if it bit you on the bum, and as far as seeing Otto Sturhahn going to jail, perish the thought. Sounds like someone switched your Prozak for placebo old boy. Now take a big breath and hold it. Now excuse me while I engage in a conversation with a brain surgeon while he’s working, because I’m curious to know what all those grey squiggly things are for.