Friday, August 17, 2007

Beard Watch 2007 Update

The following is taken from the journal of Rickey Henderson, noted journeyman & beard historian, from the Sixteenth of August, the year 2007.


Setting out from my place of work, I have made the highly inspired choice of driving my sled team of trusty dogs back to my domicile this evening. This will indeed build character while also facilitating continuous beard growth. To ensure maximum velocity, our trusty sled is greased with precious oxen suet. My bountiful man-beard insulates me from the hot rays of the Indian Summer sun. As a much needed precaution, I carry a flask of Minoxidil at my side for much needed beard nourishment. The full weight of the responsibilities of sprouting a beard are now devolving on me, and I know that if they are met, it will be due to the favor of that Divine Providence which has set me on this course. We depart. An adventurous trek beckons us.


Rather than cracking a whip, and crying "mush" to inspire my sled dogs, I have instead chosen to occasionally break wind and yell "beard!" as we journey homeward. This will indeed boost morale amongst the ranks of Wentworth, Chauncey, Higginson, Gustavus, and the other constituents of my faithful sled dog team.


Weary from the long trek, I steer the sled over to an embankment alongside the treacherous Saw Mill River Parkway. I pause to watch the sun slowly drop behind a wondrous green sign reading "Hawthorne Exit 25." My magnificent man-beard glistens in the quickly fading sunlight. The stillness in the air presages a storm which will soon break upon us with all its fury. In order to avoid the onset of Augue, the time has now come to set up camp.


Base camp is now situated and the time has come to feast. Rations are to be distributed carefully. The Huskies receive the lion's share of my remaining vittles while I cheerfully seek out other foodstuff alternatives. A strange cylinder labeled "Coors Light" beckons to me and I feast upon it hungrily, knowing that this wondrous object contains precious metallic ore which is undoubtedly vital for beard growth.


DISASTER. Gustavus, one of my sled dogs, has absconded with my treasured flask of Minoxidil, leaving me alone and destitute of vital beard enhancement. Several long hours later, the treasonous sled dog has indeed returned. Sadly, all that remains from the tumultuous event is an empty bottle of Minoxidil and a Siberian Husky possessing anus hairs the length of two swarthy yeomen. Morale is low.


Despite a rousing bout of fisticuffs with strange and foreign men, a vehicle emblazoned with the marking "ASPCA" has taken my trusty sled dogs from me. I tried my best, but the ruffians sprung upon me like an inrolling wave of the sea. I fear all is lost.


My dearest Ms. Henderson, if you are reading this, please know that I undertook this most dangerous venture in the name of unwavering man-beard experimentation. I know we will meet again in that house not made with hands, that wondrous bearded firmament in the sky. Adieu.


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Smitty said...

With this missive, Mr. Henderson, you have joined the manly, bearded ranks of stolid outdoorsman-authors like Jack London and Ernest Hemingway.

But please, for the sake of this blog, don't drink yourself to death or shoot yourself in the head with a shotgun.

Adam said...

This post reminds me of one of my favorite Apple IIe computer games: Oregon Trail.

For a web-clone version of the game, go here:

It's fun to run your pioneers into the ground, denying them food and rest. You'll have even more fun if you name your team after unlikely Western prospectors. I always used crewmembers from Star Trek. Nothing makes me chuckle more than reading "Sulu has yellow fever."

Wait a sec- that ain't right at all!

Rickey Henderson said...

Rickey promises nothing Smitty.

Adam: Rickey has many fond memories of failing to shoot squirrels and catching dysentary while travelling along The Oregon Trail.

Egan Foote said...

Rickey - You're a regular Shackleton.

Egan, out.

Rickey Henderson said...

Egan knows Rickey all too well.

Adam said...

Egan is a slanderous pimp!

Gazetteer said...

I remember a late, lazy summer afternoon in the extremely manly confines of the shrine that was then Oakland Alameda County Coliseum in 1994.

It was a day when, while contemplating his follicles, Rickey missed the cut-off man.

There were a few boos from the bleachers and Rickey gave them the finger hidden from homeplate/dugout view by his glove.

Then the crowd quieted itself as it got ready for the next batter.

And a single voice from the left field bleachers rang out.

"Hey, Rickey! They traded the wrong Henderson!"

by then fan favorite Dave was long gone.


mr. met said...

That was a craptastic post.

Oregon Trail kicks ass. In what other game can you lose a child dysentery?

Rickey Henderson said...

By craptastic, you mean "brimming with beard-related gravitas," right? Because there's really no other way to analyze Rickey's post.

mr. met said...

Yes....And I may be late to the game here, but is the 'e' in rickey missing on purpose?

I apologize if this has been spoken about ad nauseam.

Rickey Henderson said...

Rickey was innebriated when he registered for his domain name. Questions?

mr. met said...