It has taken me years to find the rat bastard who introduced this scourge upon the fly fishing world and oddly enough he was right under my nose. From Tibet to Mognolia, Wharistan to Nome, Oakland tp the Tenderloin, I trode to find the scoundrel. Camped out with Bin Laden twice but could never find the bead chucking monster. He became a ghost, Bigfoot, Elivis and Nessie all rolled into one. After two decades of futility, tired and broke, I returned home only to find the fly fishing traitior, the most wanted man alive seven blocks away. I now know why he was so elusive: the store I buy beer is six blocks away. Too exhausted for retribution he told me his story:

"Well, back in the early 80's I was guiding in Alaska. I'd tie a million glo bugs prior to the season but it was never enough so I'd end up tying up more after guiding a full day since the other guides didn't seem to know what a vice was. Finally one day I'd really had enough of this so I told one guide "ah sheet, just put a freakin' bead on your line asshole!!! Noting my frustration he backed off and did just that the next day with amazing results. Beads were born and I've felt nothing but shame since. The Gambino Fishing Lodge has a contract out on me so for god's sakes don't mention my name...I don't need anymore people on my ass"

He seemed geniune in his apology to the sport and especially to the trout. The demons were apparent in his furrowed browe, his grey hair, his shakey hands. Wait a minute, that's me....but he looked pretty shitty too. Damn, I need a beer to find the moral to this tale.

The moral: being really pissed off at your friends on the stream can lead to great innovation. So if the day is slow, kick your buddy in the nuts and tell him "hey, I was just trying to come to a trout fishing epiphany."

---"I wouldn't call it a failure, it is just a success that is yet to occur" ---a retiring woman from the Department of Homeland Security testifying before Congress on the lack of capturing Bin Laden.