R.I.P.->Honoring Samuel Taylor Hensley With Shit

Remember when you were like 26 or so? Missionary, in a hot tub, doggy-style, chick on top, on a football field, reverse cowboy, in a bar bathroom, a couple Twister inspired positions that genuinely made you fear for your cock, in your girlfriend's bed, but not with your girlfriend: You'd been poking pussy or having your pussy poked every where and which way for about 10 years. You were pretty proud of your creativity in the myriad of ways you had found to put a penis in a vagina. But then, somewhere around the decade anniversary of your first time, you had an epiphany that would make all your sexual acts to date look like two retards masturbating each other.

What I found for tributes to Samuel Taylor Hensley was like discovering butt sex all over again. Sure, I'm still proud of my idea to stand next to the crap people throw besides roads in a horrible attempt to memorialize their deceased loveds ones, put on a shit-eating grin and have my picture taken as I wave like a mountain dewed up special olympian. But now I know I was mere centimeters away from true genius because I've discovered a better way. Just like vaginal sex, the perfect idea was right under my balls all along.

I didn't find jack-poop about how Hensley died, just that he did. I did however find this genius inspiring photograph of another of the memorials done in his honor on his MySpace Memorial Page:

How sweet would it have been for me to slam the brakes on my car, put on a shit eating grin and wave like a white-trash tourist at Graceland as I stand besides shitty memorials for crappy drivers that were tattooed on some dumbfuck's body?

That would have made me a genius. Right up there with the guy who invented butt sex.