How do you follow a post where a man admits to sneaking off and fishing on his wedding night, and, oh by the way, includes a photo and the voicemail from his bride asking where he is?

Good on ‘ya, Timmy. I don’t know if that qualifies for induction in the brass huevos hall of fame, or your own “Real Men of Genius” parody…

In any regard… cue the music!

Today we salute you… “Mr. Take a Photo of Me with That 12-inch Brown Trout,”
Because you know the proof is in the pudding, and the pudding starts with photographs…
(Nice fish, pretty colors!)
Brook trout, rainbow trout, brown trout… you’ve caught ’em all, up to a foot long!
So many, in fact, that your guide’s job is easy: netting, snapping pics, and occasionally picking the broccoli salad out of your teeth before you smile…
(Take another, I think I blinked!)
Your iPhone is chock-full of snapshots of immature, breathless salmonids draped in dirty fingernails around your midsection… and they only get bigger and better from now on, baby…
(I caught this ‘bad boy’ on a dry fly!)
So crack open a cold Bud Light, and say “cheese,” oh master of the piscatorial self-portrait, because you’re
all about grippin’ and grinnin’… and even if Giselle Bundchen could fish, she’d have nothing on you.