A Generation Too Late...

My birthday is July 24, 1981.

I decided it came about 40 years too late.

All this technology, it passes me by. All this self-importance, it's over my head. All this rushing around, it makes life far too hectic.

Cell phones, laptops, blogs—hell, even high-definition televisions—I could do without. Alright, maybe not the HDTVs, but you get the idea.

Whatever it is about 2007, I just don't belong.

Instead of Gucci and Steve Madden, give me thrift store Chuck Taylors and an old brown corduroy jacket. Instead of Death Cab for Cutie, give me Townes Van Zandt. Instead of e-mail, give me a hand-written letter any day.

I'm a simple guy, living in a complicated time. It makes my life, my heart, cluttered and difficult. Basically, this is all I want out of life:



I just want a beautiful woman on my arm, a smile on my face and an open road ahead of me. As soon as they invent time machines, I'll set mine for 1960 and not look back.

Quick Update: Your Questions Answered

Yes, I made it to Seattle alive.

Yes, my job is awesome.

Yes, I'm going on a road trip this summer around the west to take pictures and talk to crazy old fishermen.

Yes, I'm flying to Michigan in March to direct a video for our web site and do some steelhead fishing.

Yes, I'll be getting paid for both of those things.

Yes, I'm probably the best person you'll ever meet.

Yes, last night I ate $100 worth of oysters, swordfish, scallops and calamari at a fancy seafood restaurant.

No, I didn't even have to come into the office most of last week.

No, I will not go out with you.

But thanks for asking.

Valentine, You Rock

This is easily the best Valentine's Day card I've ever received:


Not only does it mock this "holiday," it also contains my latest (and strangest) obsession, the old Nickelodeon game show, Legends of the Hidden Temple.

In fact, I just sacrificed a child to Olmec, so as I'm typing this, my hands are covered in the blood of a newborn. That's how happy this made me.

Hopefully this will be mass-produced, over marketed and dispersed in those little cardboard boxes that you can rip open and put on your desk, doubling as a mailbox.

More Office Banter

My time at my current job is winding down. I have just four more days to go.

Well, more like two and a half since I've been leaving at 2 p.m. every day the past week.

Don't think that everyone here isn't counting down the hours.

In the past week, I've already been called an "insensitive jerk," a "dope" and a "terrible reporter" by three different people — all in jest.

I think.

But the best has been my editor's reaction. Here are some actual quotes from him in just the past two days:

• "Well I have some good news everyone. John is leaving."

• "I didn't let you draw pictures for the paper because no one wants to see g*****ed robots catching robot fish."

• "Why don't you leave already and go write for your f***ing fly fishing magazine?"

• "I'm going to send your new boss a bunch of anonymous emails telling him how awful and lazy you are."

• "John, you make me laugh. Because you're so stupid."

• "You know, we paid you an awful lot of money to surf the internet all day."
  

Ah, I'm really going to miss this place.