If fish fear you, women want to be you, and men want you, you know your rod is your instrument that connects you to the circle of life and death. With a cold beer by your side, you engage in the struggle between man and bass. The sun beating down on the brim of your hat, you wipe sweat from your mustash. Bait on your line you lie in wait on the perfect Sunday afternoon out on the water where wives dare not nag. And when you feel that tug you know you best yank on that there line, cuz it's sure as shoot, gonna be a big one.