"Fishing, with me, has always been an excuse to drink in the daytime"
About this Quote
Fishing is supposed to be America’s wholesome pause button: quiet water, patient hands, a little communion with nature. Jimmy Cannon punctures that postcard in one clean line, admitting the part we all recognize but rarely dignify with print: the ritual isn’t always about the fish. It’s about permission.
The comic engine here is the phrase “an excuse.” Cannon doesn’t romanticize addiction or dress it up as rustic masculinity; he frames it as social engineering. Day drinking is still, even now, a behavior that needs a costume. Fishing provides cover because it reads as industrious leisure. You’re not “starting early,” you’re “out on the lake.” The tackle box becomes plausible deniability.
“With me” matters, too. It’s a sly preemptive defense: not all anglers, just this particular narrator, who knows exactly how the confession will land. The line courts judgment while beating it to the punch, turning self-incrimination into a wink. That’s classic journalist’s candor: cut through the sentimentality, keep the reader close by telling the truth faster than they can.
Contextually, Cannon is writing from a mid-century-to-1970s American male culture where drinking was both lubricant and badge, but also increasingly scrutinized. Outdoor hobbies functioned as acceptable staging grounds for vices: golf, hunting, fishing - all “healthy” alibis for booze, ego, and escape. The quote works because it collapses that whole arrangement into one irreverent admission, leaving the reader to decide whether to laugh, wince, or recognize themselves.
The comic engine here is the phrase “an excuse.” Cannon doesn’t romanticize addiction or dress it up as rustic masculinity; he frames it as social engineering. Day drinking is still, even now, a behavior that needs a costume. Fishing provides cover because it reads as industrious leisure. You’re not “starting early,” you’re “out on the lake.” The tackle box becomes plausible deniability.
“With me” matters, too. It’s a sly preemptive defense: not all anglers, just this particular narrator, who knows exactly how the confession will land. The line courts judgment while beating it to the punch, turning self-incrimination into a wink. That’s classic journalist’s candor: cut through the sentimentality, keep the reader close by telling the truth faster than they can.
Contextually, Cannon is writing from a mid-century-to-1970s American male culture where drinking was both lubricant and badge, but also increasingly scrutinized. Outdoor hobbies functioned as acceptable staging grounds for vices: golf, hunting, fishing - all “healthy” alibis for booze, ego, and escape. The quote works because it collapses that whole arrangement into one irreverent admission, leaving the reader to decide whether to laugh, wince, or recognize themselves.
Quote Details
| Topic | Witty One-Liners |
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