Forged in the Fires of Awesomeness
It’s hard to imagine anyone not knowing who Jimmy Big Time is, but in case you’ve been living under a rock for the last decade, here’s the run down.
Jimmy “Big Time” Miller was born to simple parents in rural Minnesota. My father taught physics and my mother was an accountant. By the age of four, it was clear that I was destined for Big Time greatness. The teacher became the student as I would regularly school my old man on the finer points of fishing.
Pops didn’t handle it to well, and sold all of the family fishing gear. During this phase, I learned to fish using thread from my mom’s sewing kit, paperclips for hooks, and my rod was a plastic lightsaber. Even with the cards stacked against me, I was able to win tournaments and by the age of seven I was a regular on the the tour and had multiple speaking engagements.
By ten, I had amassed tens of thousands of dollars, filed for emancipation from my parents so they couldn’t touch it, and began to provide for myself full time through my passion for the outdoors. Now, with 27 self-published books, hundreds or even dozens of world records to my name, and millions of adoring fans worldwide, I continue to amaze even myself with my ability to harvest game with a level of professionalism and humility unheard of in this industry.
Honestly, I don’t know where I find the time, but in additon to my professional life I make it a point to constantly give back to the community and to future generations of hunters and anglers. That’s why I have heavily invested in 8X10 glossy portraits of Big Time, which you will probably see hanging on the walls of finer establishments throughout North America. I feel that no child should ever have to go to bed wanting someone to look up to.
If you know an underprivileged child looking for a true role model, or even a privileged child who’s dad is a bit of a jerk or something, please feel free to send me an email and I will be happy to forward at my own expense (except $4.95 shipping handling) a beautiful 8X10 glossy for that poor child.
Everyone needs a hero, and it’s the least I can do to humbly accept that responsibility.
