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    "It’s 3:50 a.m., your sipping hot 
    coffee while your bleary eyes scan the dark oceanfront. Your body curses you 
    for its lack of sleep. The waves are pounding the open beach as the 
    northeast wind is howling at your back.  You put on your heavy 
    equipment, grab your rod and head into the rushing ocean.  A quick cast 
    of your lure into the suds, and you smile for just a moment as your rod 
    suddenly jerks downward.  You're in, the fight begins, you realize 
    you're now a Long Island surfcaster, and life is good." 
     Steve Knapik, 2002 |                  
           
         
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