Today I hiked a big huge canyon with a middle aged, butter stuffed, woman who was constantly gasping for air and Mr. @AlGorithm. Along the way and at the end of the trail there are these caged cylinders of rocks called cairns to mark the route.
At the end of the trail it was quiet and crisp and there was no other noise but wind. There wasn’t anything there but two humans, (me) Dillon the Villain and a rock cairn.
As the pack leader I decided that since this trail was remote and rugged and awesome and only men with the biggest of balls, like me, would dare to climb it. An impromptu, invitation only, memorial ceremony took place and the #weloveclint bracelet was banded to the hardest rock we could find and then put in the cairn.
Further I surmised that when they got to the end of Wilson Canyon in Sedona, Arizona, they’d be like, “What’s this #weloveclint rock all up in this cairn?” and google it and then learn that they should check their junk all the time because Clint Miller would have wanted them to because testicular cancer, with early intervention, is easy to kick.
Rest in peace Mr. Clint Aaron Miller. I never knew you but the chubby chick said you were way cool and any friend of hers is a friend of mine.