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Wed, Aug 3, 2022 02:02 PM

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Never ever let loudmouth win You just would not believe how competitive fly fishermen can be. Some o

Never ever let loudmouth win [image] You just would not believe how competitive fly fishermen can be. Some of these guys are so competitive I find them hard to be around. When I fish with friends, it doesn’t matter to me who catches the most or biggest fish. But there are rare times when it does matter. Like when you are fishing with your normal friends and a friend of one of those friends. Especially if the friend of the friend is a guy who is some 30’ish dude who won’t shut up about how rich he is and all the places he’s been fly fishing and how good he is and how none of us should even bet on who’s gonna catch the biggest fish. This whole fly fishing endeavor is supposed to be a peaceful thing. But not this time. This time I was provoked. So, there we were, the four of us, deciding who was going upstream and who was going downstream and what time we would meet back at the truck and who was going with whom. It didn’t matter to me where they fished because I was going to catch the biggest fish… even in this childish ego contest… because sometimes I’m like that. We split up in pairs. I was with Will. Possibly the coolest cat on the planet. Ken and Loudmouth went to a place on the river called “old faithful,” I kid you not, that is the name. Will is chill, so he kinda just followed my lead. Probably a bad idea this time. Here’s why… Most fly fishermen wade into the middle of the river and just start casting away in every direction. That is a terrible way to fly fish. I prefer to see a fish rising to sip mayflies off the surface and then get in a position to catch that one fish. I go slow. Looking at the water. It’s gin clear, and you can see the fish. But do you see one rising? That’s what I look for. The river is in a canyon. The sides of the canyon are covered in jagged rocks and bushes. Fall down, and you can get seriously busted up. We’re creeping along from about a 12-foot vantage point over the river. I see a trout rising to the surface… He’s a monster. Huge. He got like that by not getting caught… Which is why he is in a spot on the river that is impossible to get to… If you are a normal person. But Jack’s not normal. Just the sight of this fish made me lose all caution… The only way down to the river slightly below him was treacherous. I knew where Ken and Loudmouth went. It was easy access. Just walk down the well-worn path and start fishing. Not here. This involved bushwhacking. Bushwhacking is where you make your own path. And mine was straight down to the trout. Rocks, bushes, and snakes be damned, I was going down to cast to this fish. Will was all good with it until we hit an incredibly nasty bunch of bushes. This was thick stuff… To make matters worse, there was an evil-looking spider web on the dead part of the bush that I had to go through to get to the spot I wanted to cast to the fish. I saw the spider web… looked through it, and saw the trout rise again and sip another fly off the surface. That was all it took… I saw the spider web, put my left hand up to try to block some of it, and turned my face to the right, and proceeded to crash through no matter what. I heard all the little branch twigs snap and barely felt the spider web on my neck. However… What I did feel was about 74, 896 baby spiders going across my neck… and now down my spine. The feeling of a platoon of these nasty buggers going down my back… trying to breach my nether regions (that part below your waist) was almost too much to bear. But then I saw the fish… And I proceeded to bushwhack my way to the river, and once I got there, I ripped off my shirt and ran it back and forth over my back like a bath towel after a shower. Will was having none of it. Here I am… torn shirt, a couple bloody scrapes, a spider issue… All in all, I would say that it was a small price to pay to be in the position I am now in. I must be stealthy… and I have to encourage Will to get close enough so he can take a picture when I catch Moby Dick… so I can beat Loudmouth. Yes, I can be petty. Anyway, guess what happened? I caught that fish. Will took the picture. We met up at the truck. Nobody else caught anything. Looking back, I didn’t need to go to those extremes. But like most things in life, it can be simple… How bad do you want it? The stock market is no easy fishing pond. To catch a profit requires hard work, study, time, and effort. Doing new things. Doing things different Adapting to the situation. The stock market is willing to make you as wealthy as you want to be. How bad do you want it? Trade Well, [image] P.S.: We never told Loudmouth about the fish! P.P.S.: Before you go, Roger Scott and I would love to share [this on-demand briefing](=) to show you how I’ve been beating the market all year with my flagship strategy. It’s starting in moments, [so catch it here.]( IMPORTANT: [Click Here For Our Full Risk Disclaimer](=) [Unsubscribe]( Superior Information 300 Center Drive #G140 Superior, Colorado 80027 United States

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