Breaking News from the LBYC...

Late word has come in that a frantic 3-man crew has set out on the Ohio in search of the Gigantic Catfish. What their intentions with the fish may be, we cannot accurately determine at this point. What we do know, though, is that three men are out there hunting the thing, and they are steadfast. Their identities, as closely as we can tell: Marc Branson, 42, an ex-Navy jet pilot and chief of the Pensacola Fire Department; Stanley Hopter, 29, a marine biologist with the Oceanographic Institute; and a Mr. Flint, 50-something, large-game hunter and mercenary fisherman. The following exchange was recorded by surveillance equipment positioned at the Ludlow Bromley Yacht Club moments before the men departed…

Flint: Ten thousand dollars. Two hundred dollars a day, either I catch him or not.
Branson: You got it.
Flint: Get the Covington city commission off my back! So I don't have any more of this bribery crap!
Branson: You got that.
Flint: One case of apricot brandy. You buy the lunch.
Branson: Two cases. You get dinner when you get back.
Flint: Champagne, Ukrainian caviar, and don't forget the colour TV. Hey chief! You try this? Made it myself! Pretty good stuff!
Branson: Thanks.
Flint: Here's to swimmin' with bow legged women. Excuse me chief. Can't get a good man these days for under 60! They're all goin' at least 35 years! 45 year olds with women!
Branson: Don't drink that. Mr. Flint!
Hopter: Mr. Flint! You're gonna need an extra hand.
Branson: This is Matt Hopter.
Flint: I know who he is.
Hopter: I've crewed three transpacs.
Flint: Transplants?
Branson: No, no no he's from the Oceanographic Institute.
Hopter: And an American's Cup trial.
Flint: Mr. Hopter, I'm not talkin' about pleasure boatin' or daily sailin'. I'm talkin' about workin' for a livin'. I'm talkin' about catfishin'!
Hopter: Well I'm not talkin' about hooking some poor bluegill or alligator gar. I'm talking about finding a 30 foot catfish!
Flint: Porkers! Talkin' about porkers! Mr. Hopter. Just tie me a sheep shank.
Hopter: I haven't had to pass basic seamanship in a long time. You didn't say how short you wanted it. How's that?!
Flint: Give me your hands. Alligator gar? When you got a 5,000 dollar net, you got 2,000 dollars worth of fishermen, and along comes Mr. Cat, by the time he's finished with that net, it looks like a kiddy's scissor class has cut it up for a paper doll! You got city hands, Mr. Hopter. You've been counting money all your life.
Hopter: All right! All right! Hey! I, I don't need this! I don't need this working class hero crap!
Branson: You, you, you're not gonna do this aboard the ship are you, Mr. Flint?
Flint: Maybe I should go alone.
Branson: Well it's my party, it's my charter.
Flint: Yeah, it's your charter, it's your party, it's my vessel! You're on board my vessel, mate, master, pilot and I'm captain. Take him for ballast chief.
Branson: You got him.
Flint: (some dialogue muffled by bartender throwing beer cans into a bucket…) straight-jet, killin' lance. pair of robi splice with M1 with three-d clip, handy billy, pliers, lance...
Bartender: Haven't even assembled all these die markers, flares, safety flutes, temperature gauge, spear guns, SMG --
Flint: What are ya, some kind of half-ass astronaut? Heh, heh, heh. Take that you latch it secure? Jesus-H Christ. When I was a boy, every little squirt wanted to be a harpooner or a sword fisherman. Whatta ya got here? Portable shower or a monkey cage?
Hopter: Anti-catfish cage.
Flint: Anti-catfish cage? You go inside the cage... Cage goes in the water... You go in the water... Catfish's in the water, our catfish…. Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies. Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain. For we've received orders for to sail back to Boston. And so nevermore shall we be seeing you again.
Branson’s wife: Did you take your Dramamine?
Branson: Yes.
[Flint talking in background, words undiscernable on tape]
Branson’s wife: I put an extra pair of glasses in your-- black socks and, and there's the stuff, your nose, the zinc oxide, the blistex is in the kit.
Flint: -- Son of a bitch! Goddamn women today, they can't handle nothin'. Young girls just quite as smart, like their grandmothers...
Branson’s wife: That's got to be Flint.
Branson: Colourful ain't he?
Branson’s wife: He scares me.
Branson: Don't use the fireplace in the den because I haven't fixed the flu yet.
Branson’s wife: What am I going to tell the kids?
Branson: Tell them I'm going fishing.
Flint: Break it up will ya chief?! Daylight's wastin'! Front, bow, back, stern. You don't get it right, squirt, I throw your ass out the little round window on the side! Come on chief, this isn't no boy scout picnic! I see you got your rubbers! Ha ha ha! Here lies the fire Mary Lee, died at the age of a hundred and three, for fifteen years she kept her virginity. Not a bad record for this vicinity! All right commissioner, fasten your safety belts, ha ha ha! If you see a catfish, Hopter, swalla! Ha ha ha!

Updated Food Chain

The good folks down at the EPA have come together to release a new 2009 edition of the Food Chain. This is how Nature's order is shaping up currently:

No need to get excited...

If you were one of the 742 Twitter followers of @ohioriverseabeast30ft, please know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was not the real gigantic catfish. It appears the whole thing was a hoax. The 30-foot catfish we search for has not been tweeting, at least thus far. The updates you thought you were receiving from the monster were trick twits, not sweet tweets.

No one is sure who perpetrated the shell account, but due to Twitter’s terms of service (and as proven by the unfortunate legal shenanigans of Tony LaRussa and others) no action can be taken against the online networking site.

The @ohioriverseabeast30ft account was established about two months ago, registered to username “Gigantic Catfish,” and set up as a follower of @CincinnatiReds, @OGOchoCinco, @algore, and @mileycyrus, among others. A recent screenshot of the fake page, taken just before the account was shut down, indicated the following updates:

Gonna eat me some dinner, hopin for homeless folk, settle for they trash, mmm alligator gar haha :)- 7:17 PM June 30th from web

Tryin to swim, muds lookin goooooood, might grab a catnap (lol), catch ya 2morro 8:04 PM June 25th from text

All them hatas shut it, this ain’t the Missoura this the Ohio I’ll eat yo ass whole child please 11:43 AM June 19th from web

Beautiful day at the bottom of the river. Plenty of food. 187th birthday coming up, don’t look a day over 150. Life = good. 2:21 PM June 16th from text


Since these tweets were all fictitious, the object of our quest remains at this time elusive beyond the grasp even of our Information Age. At this time it remains uncertain whether the mythical gigantic catfish would ever consider using Twitter, or if it even has internet access or texting capabilities.