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  • The Troubadour
    Bud Light presents... REAL MEN OF GENIUS {Real men of geeeeeene-yuss} Today we salute you, Mr. Overly Confident Too-Eager Virgin Barkley Enterer. {Mis-ter
    Message 1 of 1 , Apr 9, 2010
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      Bud Light presents...


      {Real men of geeeeeene-yuss}


      {Mis-ter "IIIIIIIII'M gon-na beeeeee THE NEXT FIN-ISH-ER!"}

      Of course you can't possibly wrap your head around how it could possibly be
      so difficult---for, perhaps, all those other previous eight hundred overly
      eager virgins, who went there/did that themselves before you were born. No
      one expects you to fully comprehend, either, what all went into Admiral
      Byrd's reaching both Poles, or Roger Bannister breaking the 4-minute-mile.

      {"Probbbbb-blyyy they just allllllllllll gave up tooooo quick!"}

      "How Hard Can It Be?" you ask. "Isn't it just a long footrace through the
      woods?" Well, yes. Yes, it is. But let's say this footrace occurs in
      another galaxy, in different weather, in a twilight zone where the overgrown
      forest has never been seen in its entirely by any living creature, where no
      trail's been blazed, the mountains are forever, nothing's been marked, there
      is NO HELP, and even your map is wrong.

      {"Whoa! Has-n't this race been U-S-A-T-F-cer-ti-fied?"}

      If you have a compass/altimeter, its dial will spin. If you have a watch,
      you'll have to keep wiping your blood off its face to tell the time. If you
      run with a buddy, he will abandon you. If you cry for help, the forest will
      drown out your noise with its own laughter. If you meet a "local," you
      could either be raped and pillaged or hauled into prison. And then raped
      and pillaged. And if you "think" you're meeting some other human, it'll be
      the Blair Witch.

      {"I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I did-n't th-think that flick was toooooo scare-y."}

      But maybe you truly ARE different. Perhaps, in the two hundred years since
      Daniel Boone and Lewis and Clark, your own navigational and endurance skills
      have evolved to a level that truly could be out-of-this-world. Maybe you
      can survive on Venus or Mars after all. Think of it: you could already
      *be* the very first be-ing on Earth to be-come superhuman. And you'll never
      know this, of course, until you show up and don't quit... running The
      Barkley Marathons.

      {Next year yoooou'll beeeeee Num-ber Ten, ferrrrr shurrrrrr!!!}

      So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light from your camping cooler, Oh Lord
      Almighty Commander Sir Shackleton, because... ya know all those tourist
      brochures you received from Tennessee as to how to occupy the rest of your
      vacation after quickly completing the five loops of the full race? They're
      still in your suitcase. You will never---for the entire time you have left
      remaining on this planet---read them again.

      {Mis-ter O-ver-ly Con-fi-dent Too-Ea-ger Vir-gin Bark-ley En-ter-err!}

      Bud Light beer: we don't care where it's made; we just dig their

      ( O_O )

      Yours troubly,

      Rich Limacher

      Yankee Folly of the Day:
      No folly! Now y'all can read something else, which really and truly SHOULD
      help you there. It's this brand-new book by Frozen Ed Furtaw and, if ya
      don't have a copy by now, e- me off-list and I'll send you "the link." Have
      nice nightmare!