Catfish: Do you eat it?

[FAX]

I hold catfish in extremely low esteem.

When I was a young boy, I was friends with this poor kid whose dad was kind of a crazy drunk and lived in a shack out by the river. Once, he took us out on the river in a rowboat, tied a rope around our waists, handed us each a hay hook, and took turns throwing us overboard. The idea was to grope around the underwater river bank until you came to a hole. Then, you jammed your hay hook around inside the hole and yanked on the rope. When the old guy saw the rope yank, he would haul us in ... preferably with a catfish stuck to your hay hook. Ever since then, you couldn't pay me to eat a catfish. No way. In fact, those emotional scars are so deep, I even have a problem with rowboats. I'd just as soon douse a rowboat with gasoline and burn it to ash as look at one.

FAX

[Norman Einstein]

Originally Posted by FAX

I hold catfish in extremely low esteem.

When I was a young boy, I was friends with this poor kid whose dad was kind of a crazy drunk and lived in a shack out by the river. Once, he took us out on the river in a rowboat, tied a rope around our waists, handed us each a hay hook, and took turns throwing us overboard. The idea was to grope around the underwater river bank until you came to a hole. Then, you jammed your hay hook around inside the hole and yanked on the rope. When the old guy saw the rope yank, he would haul us in ... preferably with a catfish stuck to your hay hook. Ever since then, you couldn't pay me to eat a catfish. No way. In fact, those emotional scars are so deep, I even have a problem with rowboats. I'd just as soon douse a rowboat with gasoline and burn it to ash as look at one.

FAX

Sounds like kind of noodlin' with kid bait.

[DumbHillbillies]

Originally Posted by FAX

I hold catfish in extremely low esteem.

When I was a young boy, I was friends with this poor kid whose dad was kind of a crazy drunk and lived in a shack out by the river. Once, he took us out on the river in a rowboat, tied a rope around our waists, handed us each a hay hook, and took turns throwing us overboard. The idea was to grope around the underwater river bank until you came to a hole. Then, you jammed your hay hook around inside the hole and yanked on the rope. When the old guy saw the rope yank, he would haul us in ... preferably with a catfish stuck to your hay hook. Ever since then, you couldn't pay me to eat a catfish. No way. In fact, those emotional scars are so deep, I even have a problem with rowboats. I'd just as soon douse a rowboat with gasoline and burn it to ash as look at one.

FAX

. That's kinda messed up but shouldn't keep you from eating that delicious pig of the sea.