Maybe the corn-chucking crowd does have it partially figured out. They’ve stripped fishing down to its skivvies and only focus on the bare essentials. They know you don’t need something called a casting shirt to catch a few fish. I learned how to fish in an old johnboat, and the redneck Mississippian in me appreciates this vulgar approach. Despite the litter and the rampant poaching, they’ve stripped all pretense from a sport that can easily worship at its own alter.