When I first met the publisher of this now very-popular blog, a wonderful man named Gary Anderson, we had an almost instantaneous attraction to each other. We had a lot of things in common; both good and bad, light and dark. But both of us having reached an age where the only things in life that matter are the really important ones - the ones you cannot count with spreadsheets. Don't get me wrong. We have families, we have homes, and we have a lifetime of dreams, goals, and hopes that aren't gone yet. We both love business, and we love new businesses. He jumped right in and started working with me on a web site called TheOnlineFisherman.com, and it took off. We talked fishing, we fished, and we wrote about fish. But we also talked a lot - more than fish, in fact - about our nation. We talked about the good and we talked about the bad. We talked about the love we share for her.
Gary is really an expert at finding things. He can find anything from where to catch largemouth bass in gravel pits, to native Floridian artifacts dating back a millenia. And he can find things on the Internet. It was Gary that first introduced me to Agenda 21 - a United Nations agenda, signed by our own global ass-kissing diplomats (can you name three?) that sees air conditioning, plastics, and private property among the dozens of things important to us all as being contrary to a "Sustainable" world. Have you noticed how many times the term now appears in our daily speech? That and the word "Green"? I have another term that sounds supportive of an ideal world, but can quickly be exposed for what it truly is: an anti-free-market global governance ideal that redistributes America's wealth to impoverished (and not so impoverished) socialist/Marxist nations. It is undeniable in its clear intentions, and without dramatically improving our national consciousness of Agenda 21 and how far it has already taken hold in local and regional, it may be part of a future we want no part of.
The world is changing. I still listen often to the sweet voice of a young Joni Mitchell; her incredible magic telling me often wind coming in from Africa, where the lady of the canyon toyed with a lucky man who walked with a cane. That Greece, and the one of an ancient Athens pictured in the mind of a youth still enriched by stories of their Gods. Sex with swans, the three seeds of a forbidden pomegranate, and a knot untied only with the sword of a warrior are still there on my fingertips, like they were when I was twelve and first having them fly and drift and appear magically in the room of my young mind. I remember now a program called Icarus; and it shaping the first fonts of a digital age. But the world, and the feathers, and the myths are changing.
The forces of dark and light, of good and evil, are at play. Whether it is the Internet, or the smell in the air, we see signs turning into bricks, and dreams into anger. The concepts are the same, the collective as angry and ready to fight as ever, be it France and its chopping machines or Germany and its Jews, the song underneath the myths is the same. As is the end game.
I watch and am close to a tiny part of the world, but one that connects many people. The tiny part is fishing. I have a friend that speaks Mandarin, and often shares newspaper stories from the mainland with me. One I remember to this day talked about fishing management by the west. How the Chinese people - meaning in this case as in all the communist government - felt was that fishing wasn't something that could be managed. That it was a basic human right. Although feeding the collective was, of course, the role of the benevolent government, the actual personal right to fish - whether to help provide that collective only within the scope of his own family or for the village is something that seems natural. Our over regulation of the fisheries silly in their communist minds.
The people regulating our fisheries do not like us. It is their intent to eventually teach all children that fish feel pain too, and that only barbarians would pull those poor little helpless creatures out of their pristine environments only to release them after the torture. But what is happening is far more than fishing management I see. It is human management. And it smells bad.
The world is changing. There is a smell in the air, Frodo. There is a smell in the air.