Miss Big Booty Deschutee

I recently had a vision. I wanted to create a charitable event. And I wanted to look at some butts. And somehow, somehow, I wanted to combine the two. Through sheer force of mind, I brain-shat the idea of a floating butt parade that would simultaneously raise money for the river on which the event was held. Here in beautiful Bend, Oregon, the mighty Deschutes River contours its way through the heart of town, serving as the ever-present sinew connecting the city’s diverse and distinct neighborhoods. As an ode to this mighty and ancient natural feature, I christened my imaginary charitable event Miss Big Booty Deschutee.

I didn’t really know what to do with this admittedly genius idea, as it was also relatively obscure, a bit perverted, I had no background in organizing such an event, and I certainly didn’t want to put myself out there promoting it to the public.

But then, while recently perusing The Source, a trendy weekly newspaper that details all of the local action around town, there, on like the third page, was an opinion article about bringing back a water pageant to this very same river!

Now, I know nothing about this former water pageant. I actually don’t know anything at all about water pageants. I was unaware such thing ever existed, but I interpreted this article as sign from the cosmos.

See, I was recently reading (reading with my ears-I don’t read books lolz) Rick Rubin’s excellent new book, The Creative Act, and in it, he discusses this concept of an idea having its time. Basically, we humans serve as antennas for ideas, and if such an idea resonates and properly captivates us, we may be compelled to bring it to fruition. But the idea is not truly our own. It is its own entity with its own life force, trying to find its way into the physical world. If we sit on an idea for too long without acting, we find that the idea might be executed by someone else. As Rick explains, this is not because someone took our idea. In fact, we may have never even described this idea to another living soul. It’s simply that the idea’s time has come, and it found another vessel to bring it into reality.

I have no idea if there is any validity to such a philosophy, but I like the theory. For whatever reason, I find it motivating. Maybe this view takes the ego and stress out of the creative process. It is not your idea. The resulting product is not a true judgment or reflection of the creator. We are solely the vessel through which the idea is channeled.

This brief aside is all to say that when I saw this article about the idea of a water pageant on the same river as my vision, I knew that this idea was out there implanting it’s titillating seeds in the minds of others. The author of that opinion piece had somehow tuned into the same wavelength this idea was transmitting through the ether. This idea’s time had come.

Did this call me to action? Did this trigger me to make my vision a reality? No, of course not. See my reservations above. I was still not willing to stake my reputation on such a silly idea. But I was moved enough to write a letter to the editor of that newspaper.

Here is the letter I wrote:

Dear Source-erers,

I was heartened to see your article a few weeks back advocating for the return of a water pageant on the Deschutes in an effort to bring attention to our cherished resource that is such an integral part of our town. 

I too, have recently been pondering a kind of water pageant that I am eager to share with you here. And I humbly ask that you don’t mistake my delinquency in writing this letter for lack of enthusiasm for the fabulous idea I present below. I think it could be an absolute smash, and I’d love to hear your thoughts. Before I elaborate, a little fair warning: my interpretation of a water pageant is a little more bodacious, but hear me out. And remember, it’s for a good cause.

The name of this contest, as you may have deduced from the subject line of this email, is… Miss Big Booty Deschutee.

Imagine this: A floatilla of bootylicious contestants on SUPs or other watercraft showing off their goods to a roaring crowd of eco-conscious butt-lovers. This aqueous extravaganza will course through the heart of the Old Mill District. The walking paths that line that stretch of the Deschutes will make for excellent spectating.

Here are some specifics on the competition: There will be a 69-meter section of river designated as the competition zone. This is the window of river in which our intrepid contestants will have the full attention of the crowd, as well as their chance to show us why they deserve to be Miss Big Booty Deschutee. In this space, the contestants’ creativity is the only limit. Whether they choose to perform a tasteful twerk, an eye-popping yoga flow, sing a song in an awesome thong, or just lay there with that fantastic butt of theirs, the options are endless. All that matters is they have a butt, and it’s on display in some manner. Anyone, and I mean anyone, willing to show off their booty is a welcomed contestant.

The crowd will show their enthusiasm for particular contestants by way of throwing cash of any denomination into the river. Fear not, the cash will be quickly collected by volunteer divers for donation to the cause of the river. Remember, we’re doing this for the river!

The Old Mill walking bridge will offer VIP spectating for those who’ve made notable charitable donations. It’ll be well worth the investment, since the bridge will be in the heart of the event and is sure to offer some booty-bending aerial views.

A few of our community’s most qualified ASSessors and possibly some local dignitaries will be granted the privilege of serving as competition judges. Upon exiting the competition window, contestants will float over to the station of judges, where after thoughtful deliberation, the lead judge will Sharpie the determined score on said contestants’ butt cheeks. Scores will be on the 1-10 scale, calculated to the nearest 10th of a point. Butt cracks/you-know-what will serve as the decimal point.

As this competition is held in good spirit, rest assured that no one is going to receive a bad score, but some folks will surely get great scores!

What prize is at stake for these daring competitors? After all, they are literally putting their asses on the line! Again, breathe easy my friend, the prize is a worthy one. One that will be the envy of all who lay eyes upon it.

The prize is a pair of custom-fit sparkled, golden leggings. Ones that are so flamboyant and unmistakable, they allow the reigning Miss Big Booty Deschutee to be known and celebrated anywhere they might go in the Deschutes County region. For the year following their magnificent victory, they will have exclusive rights to flaunting the leggings, until the next champion is crowned.

Now, some valid questions about this idea- Is it trashy? Is it objectifying? Is it overtly sexual? Yes, yes, and yes. But here’s another question we need to ask- Is it awesome? YES. And remember, again, it’s for a good cause! While an unabashed celebration of butt, this will also be a celebration of our beloved river, and all the ways it enhances our lives. In the end, all proceeds will be funneled toward protecting and preserving this vital interest to us all. How specifically? I have no clue, I more enjoy enjoy thinking up the absurd details of Miss Big Booty Deschutee, but surely we can figure out an appropriate avenue for distributing the funds responsibly.

Every culture has its questionable traditions. In the Faroe Islands, the villagers annually slaughter a bunch of whales for food. Preceding the yearly yam harvest, at risk of life and limb and many brain cells, Vanuatuan men “land dive,” bungee jumping off rickety towers with only vines attached to their ankles. During Carnival and Mardi Gras, people across the world get temporarily inebriated and promiscuous, then get back to normal life.

I offer up Miss Big Booty Dechutee as a questionable tradition of our own. One uniquely belonging to Central Oregon. We’re not killing whales, no one’s getting hurt, no one’s doing anything too scandalous. For one day a year only, we’re just enjoying some ass for a good cause. Is that such a bad thing?

I fear I’ve exceeded whatever word limit you may have for reader responses, and I’m guessing my suggestion might be a bit too lewd for your esteemed publication, but I hope you’ll consider it anyway.


Mr. Yolo69420.blog

I waited with bated breath for a response from the newspaper…

Crickets be all that I doth hear.

So I sent a follow-up. Their eventual response was lukewarm, as you will see below. I suppose completely obliterating the 250-word limit four times over didn’t help my chances, but I suspect other objections were at play in the decision to deny publication. But alas, I understand, such radical ideas are not always ready for an audience.

My nervous reply, anticipating the worst.
My fears transformed into reality.. Redacted to protect the privacy of others, but note my name clearly displayed in the header, despite my use of a clandestine email address, as well as the acknowledgment of my name in her response.

On a side note, my wife pointed out that I am an idiot who apparently does not fully grasp the intricacies of email. See, I used my throwaway icloud email account to disguise my identity (cowardly, I know), since my email handle Kangles19 contains no trace of my name. Apparently, the technology is advanced enough that when one sends an email from his or her apple account, it identifies the full name of the sending party in the header of the message (news to me). So in the end, my anonymity was not preserved, and I’m outed as a dufus with the regrettable email handle Kangles19 and proud purveyor of yolo69420.blog.

So much opportunity for learning here. Through this saga, I’ve learned to endure the sting of rejection and deepened my understanding of online communication. I count this whole ordeal as a win and not a gargantuan waste of time.


Sam/Kangles19/Mr. Yolo69420.blog

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