That’s right Ladies, I like sex. That’s the thing that you beautiful women of the world need to know about me.
Sometimes you might hear someone say, “people change.” And yes, just as that saying suggests, people change. Heck, I’ve changed too, from my days of service to my days of greed. But one thing has not changed, you women of your graceful moves and your gentle rarely-given caresses to our emerging race of extinct males.
But you see ladies, unlike a lot of those other Uncontested Men’s Heavyweight Unsanctioned 250 champions, I have not changed too much, and I still like sex. And unlike a lot of those other guys, I am willing to become the Men’s Heavyweight Unsanctioned 250 champion because if I can’t have you, ladies, then my other love has never turned me away.
She has never stricken me with her weapons, nor ever spurned me at 3:20 am, when I was shitfaced from too many shit Brooklyn gin-quinines to even give her the benefit of a “how was your day, babe? I love you, and I apologize, but I’m currently sufficiently shitfucked that I may fall asleep while being with you tonight.” My other love has given to me what I give to her. And the reality is that I am blessed in that I am still able to be there for her rather than drowned in the East River at 3:21 am.
Yeah. That’s reality. You forgive us in a way that rowing cannot. We can leave for weeks or even years and you will forgive us. Rowing cannot often forgive us for a single bad workout. There are only two kinds of rowers; there are rowers who still haven’t rowed their record, and rowers who have already rowed their record. And that’s reality too. We will have a second chance with you beautiful women because you have an essence of love in you that Mother Nature does not. Ask Roz Savage if she thinks Mother Nature always saves a piece of love. God may have built your sorry ass, but Mother Nature ain’t no real mamma, because she will kill your ass without a blink. Ask Roz Savage what it is like to find oneself on the open ocean in wave-troughs that can bend plate steel. Rowing is an unforgiving love. But it is a love. If we put in the time, if we devote ourselves to the discipline, to the humility, to the tick of entropy, then we can sometimes earn it.
As you may have noticed, rowing and I have an uncomfortably serious relationship. And of course, I’m in love with Roz Savage, because she actually responds to my lovestruck emails, and actually loves the sport in spite of Mother Nature who tries to end her life at least a few times on every transatlantic. If you motherfuckers at the website put in a photo of Roz Savage above a headline that says “I like Sex”, I believe I will take a flight out to Colorado and shoot both of you assholes in the nutsacks. And what’s with all the non-music videos? End that shit, or I will take a flight out to Colorado and shoot both of you nutsacks in the assholes.
Excuse me, I digressed there for a momemt …
If you ladies prefer not to spend time with me, I will spend it trying to do a “Micro-Roz” where I row one times ten to the minus six units of length to Roz’s longest row and best times.
Does Roz love me? Maybe. I suspect it’s more likely she doesn’t even remember me. But if I can row a Micro-Roz to a length and speed that Roz has rowed in her best time divided by her longest crossing, normalized, then I believe I would be a good rower. And no, this isn’t another thinly-veiled attempt to the promote the upcoming Unsanctioned 250 Grand Nationals in Monte Carlo. I, Rick Yukon would never offer a thinly-veiled attempt to promote the upcoming Unsanctioned 250 Grand Nationals in Monte Carlo. Heck, for all I know, the Micro-Roz is likely nowhere near 250 meters in length. I just use the Micro-Roz because I believe that it’s a measure of rowing ability that a lot of good, young rowers could use in their training and practice. And in their lives. If nothing else, Roz has created a standard of practice for what rowing can be. I see nothing coy or undignified about letting her know of the tremendous value she has brought to our lives while she is actually still with us and vital. Is there a reason why we would hold off on the Micro-Roz standard simply because Roz is still one of the greatest still-alive open ocean rowers? Exactly, that would be nonsense. So, I love Roz and I don’t bug her about it, because she doesn’t necessarily need to damage her own personal life, or whatever is left of it after choosing the ocean over me. But yeah, she chose the ocean over me. And I don’t blame her, I would chose the ocean over me too. I may be the Men’s Heavyweight Unsanctioned 250 future Grand National winner, but other than some obscure sporting event practiced by a handful of rowing nuts like Roz and your old buddy Rick, we aren’t worth a whole lot if we leave the Gen-Zers with oceans so depleted that they can’t enjoy a gnarly plate of sush. Jerry, you mentioned that you want to donate a chunk of your ill-gotten-gain to a decent charity, please give some of it to Adventurers and Scientists for Conservation, if they’re even still around at this point, where the Scientists jumped ship for Conservation, just leaving the Adventurers. Roz is that adventurer, and she is still willing to sacrifice herself to something bigger than her world’s records, and the way her eyes used to smile at me when she thought about something that happened to her when she was a kid. So there ya go, I did it, Roz, my friend and adversary now has to donate $100k to Adventurers and Scientists for Conservation because he bet me $100k that I wouldn’t write an article with the headline “I like sex” and a photo of you. I owed this to you, I’m sorry, I wish I could do more, but we’re in it as long as we can pull an oar or an erg. I’m not going to link to their website donation page, because you can Yahoo that yourself, you lazy fuck. And send them $100k, as agreed and bet. If your wife asked you where it went, just tell her you donated it to the Adventurers and Scientists for Conservation, and when she asks “who?” all screechy like I imagine she does, but in reality is would be like “Oh yeah, I heard about them from Space Force 7.” You’ll be fine, unless she actually does read Space Force 7, which in fact I know she does, so yeah, yer fucked now you greasy bastard. – – – – – [redacted, five letters, female name], your husband has to pay $100k to Adventurers and Scientists for Conservation because he once again underestimated my abilities and my resolve. You know you married the wrong guy, you should have married me, because I would at least have the dignity to blow my hundred grand on hookers and cocaine, and the Great Powers of Luck do thus bestow. But your husband lost this bet to me, the Uncontested Grand National champion of the Monte Carlo Invitational Men’s Heavyweight U-250. But seriously, I do actually still love you even though you married that dipshit whom I also now kind of love too, if you can’t afford $100k, then just give them $50k, or say even just $5,000. If you can’t afford $5,000, then make it $50. $50 for the Adventurers and Scientists for Conservation. Apologies if I’ve suggested that you’re actually more broke than you appear to be, for all I know you might be a good bit wealthier than you appear to be. None of that matters to me, simply that you make sure that dipshit husband whom you inexplicably love instead of me receives some record of the donation. He is supposed to hang it under that photo of him in that photo with Dr. Seuss and it has to stay there until he dies. You don’t need to enforce that part of the bet, I’ll happily torture him about it for the next fifty years or until I forget. And don’t worry about me so much, I’m just dealing with the shit that life sometimes shits. The good times are around the corner, maybe even tomorrow. We’ll get through it, we’ve made it this far without boning, we only have another sixty years and we’re home free. Then we’ll get to blame it on dementia.