Lamenting The Bygone Days

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That One Guy
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On the banks of the Yellowstone
When I started out in fish keeping way back in 1965 we had a Sears, a Woolworth's and an S.S. Kresges that sold freshwater tropical fish. There were also two local super hobbyists that had what were really overgrown fish rooms that sold fish. Their fish were magnificent. The retail stores were OK. Over the years many came and went and there were, periodically, great pet shops. Now we have the pet chains and Wal-Mart selling fish in those horrible centrally filtered set ups. Same old fish all the time. Sickly and stressed and malnourished. You rarely ever see anything exotic. But, and this is a big but. I'm finding out that you can buy fish online. I even looked one up in Portland Oregon. Their fish look great. Everything you could ever want. However, I caution everyone who reads this about a deadly hazard. I work for a sub-contractor that supplies labor to "a major U.S Parcel company's" air operation. Packages are handled with very little care. Packages are thrown and dropped and left in blazing sun and icy cold. The average person would be aghast at seeing a typical sort operation at an airport. The sole focus is keeping that cargo jet going to its next stop on time, which, by the way doesn't happen often. Anyway, I see packages from Coast Tropicals a lot. They are on their way to Pets Marts. They are routinely flipped and dropped and I cringe when I see that. I handle these boxes like they are a newborn but I am one of approximately 50 people who touch one box from origin to destination. Yes, the Killifish people and the Betta Congress members ship fish all the time with apparently good results. What is the point of this rambling post? I wish local fish people could make a living in a small mostly fish only store. They can't. I wish I could personally see many of the wonderful fish available in the hobby. I can't. I mourned that I had no shoes until I met the man who had no shell dwellers.
 
When I was a boy, we had a man walking his horse and cart down the street and he delivered big blocks of ice for our fridge. We also had to cut our own bread because sliced bread wasn't available, and milk came in glass bottles and if you didn't bring it inside straight away, the crows would poke holes in the foil caps and drink it.

You kids, get off my lawn. Damn kids, mutter mumble.

What are we talking about?

Damn kids, get off my lawn.
 
When I was a boy, we had a man walking his horse and cart down the street and he delivered big blocks of ice for our fridge. We also had to cut our own bread because sliced bread wasn't available, and milk came in glass bottles and if you didn't bring it inside straight away, the crows would poke holes in the foil caps and drink it.

You kids, get off my lawn. Damn kids, mutter mumble.

What are we talking about?

Damn kids, get off my lawn.
That was great ! But . . . Oh you little whippersnapper, if I could get my hands on you I'd box your ears for you. And since I am now up on my high horse let me tell you a couple of things. Back in the day the breeders didn't go all Frankenstein on our fish and turn them into glow in the dark mutants and breed fins into them that need training wheels. There was no such thing as a powder blue Dwarf Gourami, female guppies weighed eight pounds and gave birth to broods of thousands! Yeah! Our tanks had stainless steel frames, our heaters stayed out of the water, and we had pretty incandescent lights. I've seen Oscars that could fight a pit bull and paradise fish were meaner than Donald Trump's speech writers. OK, I'm alright now.
 

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