Important matters that aren’t and don’t.
Or maybe they are and they do.
While slogging through the wasteland that is the internet the other day, I came across the above image, which arrived at the perfect time.
Now, I don’t know if Mrs. Rogers actually said this to her son, or if it’s one of those random quotable quote things that periodically pops up on people’s Facebook feeds;
Personally, I want to be a helper. Or, at least I want to be someone who doesn’t contribute to the noise, and sadness. If Mrs. Rogers actually said this, then I thank her for her wisdom.
However, if Charles Bukowski actually said it, then I suppose I need to thank him instead.
Another person in our midst who is a helper is my old chum from another mum, or sister from another mister, Kristen. It’s been a minute since we’ve crossed paths with one another, but clearly we remain in one another’s hearts based on the following message she sent me a couple of days ago;
As a fellow dick drawer, I thought you might appreciate my motivational imagery for the pro racers;
My words of encouragement were a bit more graphic.
We could all learn a thing or two from Kristen and Anne’s efforts, not the least of which being that size matters.
Moving on from that to other topics- By my count, there are just three weeks and two days until the seventh (!) annual WSATU celebration;
The little drunken baby is seven years old? How can that be? Why, it seems like just yesterday when it was laying in its crib, spitting up on itself, and repeatedly losing its underwear.
So good people of Outhereland- You know what to do.
In the immediate Northern California region, this year’s event happens to once again coincide with Robert Ives’ Meet Your Maker ride.
For those who are unaware, here’s last year’s breakdown;
The short version is with this ride, Robert raises a whole lotta dough for two area pit bull rescues- Sac County Dogs, and Chako Pit Bull Rescue, and besides helping out a bunch of fuzzy blockheads find their forever homes, it gives a fair shake to sheltered babies, as they navigate the world with hopes of finding theirs;
I don’t have the full scoop from the Blue Collar Bikes camp as it has yet to land on my desk, but I know they have their ducks in a row, so it should just be a matter of time before I can release the information to this site’s readership, and we can spread the good word like to many errant bags of dog crap.
Finally in closing, and while we’re on the topic of beer and wheeled machine what maketh the fun, I would like to offer a heads up for any and all in the Bay Area who would like to come play rollerboard at the usual spot this coming Monday;
I will first note that obviously ‘first annual’ is incorrect. I didn’t make the flyer, I’m just bringing some supplies, so no need to get all word-nerd on me.
If you’d like to roll through and throw a couple of slaps down, you never know what hijinx could occur, or which legends might make the scene;
Or, if you just want to come up and lurk, bring a grillable, and a desire to sit in a parking lot with some dirtbags.
We might not necessarily be the helpers, but I can guarantee without pause or second thought that we won’t be the hurters to anyone but ourselves;
Pic. by JBird
My trail rides would be infinitely better if more of our sisters drew dicks on the trails.
Drawing a dick on the dirt is akin to a friendly wave, and I’m good with that. More friendly waves, less sneers.
“My trail rides would be infinitely better if more of our sisters drew dicks on the trails.” Sisters? You riding in eastern Kentucky or something?