Recently, I was fishing at one of my favorite local spots when a older gentleman approached me and asked for a moment of my time to discuss his fly fishing talents. I explained that while I was intent on getting some fishing done, I could spare a minute for him. After all, I am always on the look out for new fly fishing talent.
The man then motioned to his SUV and out got his wife, daughter, young son, and the family dog. The elder of the group then reached deep inside his fishing vest and whipped out an awful concoction of a fishing fly. This thing was a good six inches long and looked like it was tied from the remains of a transvestite's sequined dress. It had three menacing hooks lined with razor blades and where the hackle should have been it had what appeared to be a spiked dog collar. The children immediately began digging into the creek bank and exposed some fat juicy red worms. The mother/wife took the red worms from the children and after letting the dog lick them clean, impaled them on the spikes of the fishing fly's dog collar hackle. The children then left their digging to roll out an industrial sized can of green giant corn niblets. The father proceeded to open the can with a gold front tooth (that I had not previously noticed) and drank down every last drop of the corn juice. The whole family then began doing a bizarre dance, all the while chumming the water with the corn. The father tied the hideous dog collar / razor blade fishing fly to a line attached to his zebco 33 spinning rod and began trying in vain to false cast. The line soared around his head in a lariat like fashion, for at least a dozen times before he launched his cast. The errant fly bounced off a nearby tree, killed a small raccoon, and then fell into the placid pool below with all the poise of a H-bomb test at Bikini atoll. Most all of the trout in the pool ran like their tails were afire, except for one old brown which rolled, belly up, to the surface. Most likely it had passed away as the result of a heart attack.
With joyful smiles on their faces, the entire family waded out into the pool and picked up the fish, hoisting it high over their heads. The father looked at me expectantly and said, "So what do you think?" I scratched my head and said, "That's something else.", I replied, "Whatever do you call fishing like that?" To which the entire family answered with a rousing Tada!, "The Aristocrats!"