Stupidity is a powerful force never to be underestimated. Geese are a good example; a more stupid vertebrate one would be most challenged to come across yet should you wander into a flock of them pecking about peacefully in a field, one is likely to erupt from its grazing to grab a billful of your ass and commence beating you savagely with its wing. I witnessed such an event in Minneapolis, where a goose goosed a friend of mine. To our collective dismay, he showed off his buttockian bruise proudly for many weeks.
I’m not immune my own stupidity, which is unfortunate because if you already have to deal with other people’s stupidity, you should at least be free of dealing with your own. Tragically, the opposite appears to be true. In point of fact, a dominant portion of my life is spent recovering from my own acts of idiocy. For example, I recently rode an Imperial century on Whidbey Island in scorching heat. To combat dehydration, I carefully prepared my usual two bidons – one with electrolyte and one with plain water as is my custom – and proceeded to leave them in the car rather than place them on the bike. I was gleefully unaware of this oversight until I was well over an hour into the ride and I reached down for a drink in my usual Casually Deliberate style and found the cages mockingly empty. Continue reading