Come bear olfactory witness to Lake Bemidji

Lake Bemidji smells like dead fucking fish. Let's just admit it. The fish are all dead. It's too hot for the poor bastards. I say we drop a ton of hot rocks into the last school of sweating muskies lurking around the damp inner-shoe feeling depths. Have ourselves a on-the-fin fish fry. If only catching eurasian milfoil was as fun as rock bass. Our tourism would skyrocket. I've asked my biologist if he could design me a crayfish that ate milfoil. He claims it's easier to make the milfoil taste like rosemary. We're going to make a killing on the spice market.