Still, if that thinking’s a little on the grim side for you, then consider the possibility there’s still a lot of useful stuff we can learn from the outdoors.

In fact, in the following (wholly awesome) essay by P.J. O’Rourke is that it’s easier to train gun dogs than kids:

I have three badly behaved children and a damn good bird dog. My Brittany spaniel, Millie (age seven), is far more biddable and obedient than my daughters, Muffin (eleven) and Poppet (nine), and has a better nose than my son, Buster (five). Buster does smell, but in his case it’s an intransitive verb.

My dog is perdition to the woodcock and ruffled grouse we hunt hereabouts and death itself to the pen-raised Huns, chukars, and quail she encounters at the local shooting club. Millie hunts close, quarters well, points beautifully, is staunch to wing and shot, and retrieves with verve. My children…are doing okay in school, I guess. They look very sweet—when they’re asleep.

As my family was growing, I got a lot of excellent advice about discipline, responsibility, respect, affection, and cultivation of the work ethic. Unfortunately this advice was from dog trainers and was directed to my dog. In the matter of child rearing there was also plenty of advice, all of it contradictory—from family and family-in-law, wife, wife’s girlfriends, pediatricians, nursery school teachers, babysitters, neighbors and random old ladies on the street, plus Dr. Spock, Dr. Phil, and, for all I know, Dr Pepper: Spank them/Don’t spank them. Make them clean their plate/Keep them from overeating. Potty train them at one/Send them to Potty Training Camp at fourteen. Hover over their every activity/Get out of their faces. Don’t drink or smoke during pregnancy/Junior colleges need students too. And none of this advice works when you’re trying to get the kids to quit playing video games and go to bed.

It took me years to realize that I should stop asking myself what I’m doing wrong as a parent and start asking myself what I’m doing right as a dog handler.

You’ll want to read the whole thing. Every word.

With a toddler in the house already testing every rule (and climbing through or over every safety barrier), I can see the writing on the wall. I’d better invest in duck decoys – and fast.

See you on the training field, Tom Chandler.

Incentive to improve your fly fishing game?

Frankly, the Underground’s band of dropouts, slackers and drug users Editorial Board says yes. That’s why we’re at the forefront of a bold new initiative offering new life to the fly fishing industry (through the practice of visiting death sentences on those who fail).

We came upon this seemingly obvious idea via the factually based Onion News site, which wondered if pro sports wouldn’t be more entertaining if the losers were put to death (as was the practice only a few hundreds of years ago):

Sports Becomes Increasingly Boring As Death No Longer Punishment For Losing | The Onion – America’s Finest News Source

According to prominent sports historians, the modern-day practice of allowing a losing team or athlete to live has significantly lessened the intensity of sports as a whole in the centuries since the execution of defeated competitors has fallen out of vogue.

“A shared awareness that the loser would be put to death raised the stakes and increased crowd involvement, to say nothing of its effect on the entertainment value of the match itself,” said Joachim Albrechtssen, professor of competitive outcome studies at Louisiana State University. “Sports today just can’t compete with that. If a Roman Colosseum audience saw Kobe Bryant miss a last-second shot, they would be unable to comprehend why he would not be stabbed to death, drawn and quartered, or burned alive, not to mention torn to shreds by the winning teams’ womenfolk.”

Frankly, I love the idea, and think we should translate it to fly fishing immediately. That would put a stop to all this “just nice to be out on the water” crap we hear from so many losers anglers.

And it would help the ailing fly fishing industry – currently mired in the slump that inevitably follows too much navel gazing and acronym marketing – drive sales of lucrative bead-head nymphs, bobicators, boring how-to books, and high-modulus, broomstick-stiff fly rods.

How would this next step in the evolution of fly fishing be put into practice?

Simple.

If you don’t catch fish, then you don’t eat for 48 hours (and neither does your family).

For a lot of anglers I see on the river, that punishment will eventually amount to certain death.

And because the Underground is truly a hotbed of bold thinkers (eat our dust, Greek philosophers), we have a suggestion: Why not institute this plan up and down fly fishing’s food chain?

Fly fishing guides would enjoy an immediate surge in bookings, though any guide that didn’t produce for their clients would be summarily stoned to death (imagine the surprise on the face of that rude, overbearing, Simms-wearing bastard when he’s standing there expecting a tip, and you “hand” him a rock going 37 mph instead…).

Fly shop owners who ran out of stonefly dries at the height of the best hatch in years would be dragged up and down the street in front of their shop, and their severed heads placed on poles at the upcoming AFFTA trade show to serve as a warning to others.

Fly fishing writers who culled information from message boards and then reported it as gospel truth – without any actual personal knowledge of the technique or information – would be stabbed repeatedly with a sharpened fountain pen.

And those who confidently reviewed fly fishing gear without using it for an extended period would find themselves forced to wear the summer-ripened, never-washed waders of slobbish Montana guides over their heads – a death sentence if ever we’ve heard one.

Naturally, manufacturers wouldn’t be spared.

Anyone who dumped a poorly engineered, $425 fly reel on the market (or a poorly engineered pair of wading boots, or a poorly designed $500+ fly rod) would one night find a dark stranger mysteriously knocking on their front door.

And magazine editors who ran the exact same cover photo over and over – using their bully pulpits to justify general industry woosiness – would be buried under several metric tons of their own back issues.

And finally, all fly fishing bloggers would be put to death immediately (just because, that’s why).

Naturally, as the architect of this Bold Plan For Adding Badly Needed Urgency to the Sport of Fly Fishing, I’d be exempt from the new rules.

That’s because – as someone who is clearly more intellectually advanced than the rest of the industry (I’d have to be to craft something this damned brilliant) – I alone am allowed to fill the ecological niche of effete, bamboo-waving, dry fly fishing blogger.

Frankly, my continued existence is a small price to pay for the revitalization of fly fishing – the sport where Catch & Release only applies to the fish, not the fishermen.

Of course, the Undergrounders are expected to contribute ideas to this burgeoning brain trust of brilliance.

Who should get it, and how?

See you at the guillotine, Tom Chandler.

His latest book — Kerplunk!– is more of the same, and McManus fans will no doubt be pleased by that.

His earlier essays chronicled his adventures as a young man, and while they were clearly fiction, they contained enough real world stuff that you knew he was writing from an autobiographical perspective.

McManus’ best humor is based on his mastery of the “unintended consequence” — where a simple, slightly skewed idea spirals out of control.

Disaster is the inevitable result, but this being humorous fiction, nobody gets hurt (too badly).

Some of his essays stay with me to this day; I remember reading his “The Deer on the Bicycle” story (about deer hunting as a kid, using a bicycle as transportation) and not being able to contain my laughter (in science class… yikes).

While his latest book — Kerplunk!– might not be his sharpest work, there is still plenty to smile about.

“Uh-Oh!” (and other things guides shouldn’t say) not only made me laugh, but made me think of the chilling phrases I’ve heard from guides along the way (“Uh, you seen the anchor?”).

Kerplunk delves into McManus’ modern-day exploits in the Pacific Northwest (mostly as an adult), focusing mainly on fishing and hunting trips that — trust me — you won’t want to duplicate.

Those who have never read his largely self-effacing outdoor humor essays might also want to read his earlier books, but Kerplunk!is a solid addition to his bibliography.

See you in the bookshelves, Tom Chandler.

Click to buy a copy of Kerplunk!

Technorati Tags: kerplunk,patrick mcmanus,book review,humor,outdoor humor

It’s the latest book by outdoor humorist Patrick McManus, whose hilarious essays about his hunting and fishing misadventures killed me when I read them in high school.

The rules are simple: post a comment here about the outdoor writer who first made an impression on you. We pick the winner at random based on the comment number (your first comment counts). You win, and everyone weeps bitterly. (Life is hard.)

So get your entry in by Midnight Saturday.

See you giving away the free schwag, Tom Chandler.