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Although fishing on a man-made impoundment doesn’t really qualify as a Wilderness Experience – I typically like to think any form of fishing should be an escape from it all.  But during this outing the wilderness was going to have a soundtrack – a shitty soundtrack – supplied by campers nearby.

The thunderstorm overhead had just cleared off, and hopes were high for some big brown trout as we pushed our craft into the water.  Camp #1 blared out some R. Kelly song.  Not being entirely familiar with all of Mr. Kelly’s work I’m not certain which hot jam it was – but they all kind of sound the same – so for good measure lets go with this one:

Josh and I joked about how painful the music was, and I started to kick my tube down a channel and within the first 10 kicks a big tug was felt at the end of my line.  The R. Kelly still blaring, I envisioned that the fish on the end of my line was not a 22″ brown, rather something like this:


The fight was electric, my reel was screaming in-time to the deep bass track – but when the fish finally surfaced, it was comically too large for the net, and looked nothing like the R&B star.  I was not disappointed though.

I feared the first cast curse might have been the actual soundtrack for the rest of the evening for me.  Attempting to push that negative thought out of my mind, campsite #2 chimed in with a song that was new to me – and one that I hope to never hear again.

Sadly – no fish came to hand during that ditty.  And no fish were hooked while listening Kid Rock’s My Name Is Rock or Iggy Azalea’s Fancy. Was the first-cast curse coming true?  Just then MC Hammer’s Can’t Touch This came blaring from camp #2.  At that point I’m pretty sure I muttered some expletives, just as a mother at camp #2 yelled similar words at one of her offspring that had thrown a rock at another.

At that point I turned towards my inner peace, and tried to block it all out.  I’m Fishing – don’t let the yokels’ music bring you down!  But I could not block out:

Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto [どうもありがとうミスターロボット],
Mata au hi made [また会う日まで]
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto [どうもありがとうミスターロボット],
Himitsu wo shiri tai [秘密を知りたい]

Styx.  Of course I hadn’t heard an 80’s song yet.  Campsite 2 was bringing the a-game.

I think this song pissed off some of the fish too, because right around …

The problem’s plain to see:
Too much technology
Machines to save our lives.
Machines dehumanize.

… TUG, TUG and hook set.  And there I was, fighting the biggest brown of the night that pushed past the 2′ mark, without a net, only equipped with 80’s music and my robotic powers.  No camera to snap a picture – the moment was just between me, the beautiful brown, and Mr. Roboto.

And so the evening went on.  Pretty slow overall – but with a steady flow of horrible music.  It didn’t matter though – it kind of made it feel like I was in some sort of strange dreamscape – playing a video game, and when my mind was wandering one more trout asked me to dance.


Sometimes life, like fishing, gives you a shitty soundtrack.  And instead of getting upset, you just have to kick along to the beat and someone will come and dance with you.


2 comments on “Mr. Roboto

  1. Ben Lowery says:

    The key to the experience here is to hit play as soon as you start reading the article.

    Great stuff Timmy.

    1. Ben you have me wondering which song you hit play on? Now that I think of it – each track would really modify the reading experience. LOL!

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