Thinning the gene pool and my religious aspirations.

Oh dear. Another candidate for the Darwin Awards?

A nineteen year old longboarder was airlifted to hospital this week.  

 "It appears he was towed by his father up this significant hill that they were using to board on, so he was being towed up at about 15 miles (25k) per hour,  basically fell off and hit his noggin and lost consciousness."

Pinkewycz says it was either raining or snowing at the time and advises longboarders not to attempt stunts in those conditions. 

The kid's a classic Adrenaline Junky, with fool-hardy genes passed along from his enabling dad. I wonder if he was praying to God as he went down...? 
                                                             Here he is in ten years time:  

 90km (55m) per hour.

Not that I'm judging.  For sure we never ever even once hung on behind Uncle Clarence's Suburban  bumper surfing the fresh Alberta snows on crazy carpets before church of a Sunday morning... not ever. Yeah.  That's it.

More than one dumbass move has landed my name in that Darwinian hat in the past.  And as soon as I saw this smooth move, my poor besotted brain went into over-drive trying to figure out how to do it, and where.  (note to self: Down Girl. NO.)

Officer Pinkywicks up there, who can't tell whether it's raining or snowing, advises longboarders not to try stunts in either event, rain or snow.

I'm advised not to ride in the rain and snow sometimes, too, though of course I never listen.

Are you coming?

You know what I am going to listen to, though, don't you?  Oprah's captured edited and trademarked edition of Lance's confession.  Yessum.  And I really can't wait for the 60 Minute version.  It just keeps getting better, this story. It has all the makings of a tale of epic proportions. I'm just ever so slightly, secretly envious of Oprah.  No! It's not because of Steadman.  Ew gross. It's not her money,either. Not directly, anyway.

You see, I've always secretly wanted to be the Pope. 

There's all that lovely gold. The Pope has a lot of gold and other shiny, sparkling stuff. I have a weakness for shiny things, you see. (I have a friend.  She is very tolerant. I make her read this. She's nodding emphatically about my weakness for shiny things right now.) When you have lots and lots of gold like the Pope does, you can find ways to give lots and lots of things away.

Oprah has a lot of sparkling, shiny stuff.

It would be cool to be the Pope because he has tons of really cool places, too, some of the prettiest buildings in the world situated on gorgeous plots. I love pretty plots and lovely things.  

Oprah is the Queen of Pretty Plots

and Gorgeous Things!

As I gained an education, I realised that the library in Vatican City holds a few juicy mysteries which most of us will never be privileged enough to read, and if I were the Pope I could start the best book club in the world.   What do you know? 

Oprah has a Book Club!

But the best bit is the confessions, though.  People pour their stories into her ear...

I'll be listening.  This should be interesting and entertaining. The Mail sez 

Lance Armstrong is to take the route of many a disgraced public figure and offer himself up for a no-holds-barred interview with Oprah Winfrey.  

My mum's mum, Baba, used to love Oprah.  She would watch religiously, volume full blast because she hated to wear her hearing aid.  I've never watched an episode that I can recall, but I know she's one of the most powerful people in the world and when I look at my Pope Hope and then look at her, I can't help but notice that she's gone and done it.  She's achieved my secret dream.

Lance, please kiss the toe of the POPE-RAH, will you?

You see why I'm tinged slightly green?
The only real difference is that if I were pope I would immediately set about ensuring that all that silly dogma around sex gets set to right, and I see no sign of POprah going there.

But you know I'll be going there every chance I get. I 'm always closest to God when I'm calling out "Oh My God!!" from between the sheets every night.

In fact, be sure to tune in after next weekend.  I'm excited about honing my investigative journalism/intrepid bike blogging skills at the sex show TABOO. Time to see what kind of kinkiness we can bring to two wheels.

There are bound to be lots of fun things to ride, and who knows?  If I listen carefully, maybe I'll hear some juicy confessions.  Better yet, by the end of the weekend I plan to have a religious experience of my own which is worthy of a confession on Oprah's sofa.  Then I can be the one giving the dope to the Pope-rah.