Real Men/Women of Genius #114

[Happy “Bad Joke Friday” once again! Here, possibly, is the best joke:
yours troubly is taking a little time off for “Da Hollydaze,” but is also thinking of trying something brand-new. Hence this particular RM/WoG shtick may very well be phased (fazed?) out…to extinction? After all, Bud Light is no longer doing its RMOG (anybody ever notice its LACK of RWOG?) and in fact (who’s noticed this?) that GUY whose voice just throttled this series with sarcasm out the ying-yang has since been hired to do radio ads for Miller! How ’bout THAT??? “Man Up,” I think, is how they stoke this gimmick. Anyway, we here at Ultra High Life are thinking maybe our own version of this “genius” brew is getting stale. Eh? But first, we just gotta do this one. :]

Bud Light presents…

REAL MEN OF GENIUS

{Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss!}

Today we salute you, Mr. Completely Whacked-Out Overcrowded Footrace Entrants’ Lottery Inventor.

{THAAAAAAAAT is a work of REEEEEEEEEEEEE-AL geeeene-yuss!}

Nothing like tossing your hat in the ring, huh? Or plucking slips of paper with people’s names on them OUT of that hat? Oh no. That would be too easy.

{“Wellllllllllllllllllll, it’s bet-ter than drawwwwwww-ing half-a-mil-li-on strawwwwwwwws!”}

Not even numbered ping-pong balls inside a squirrel cage, eh? No. What works for nine-tenths the states of this Union won’t work for your footrace.
You have “criteria” and “weighted wait lists” and, good gaud, “ALGORITHMS!”

{“Weeee COULD just-raise-the-en-try-fee untilllllll on-ly two-hun-red could af-ford it!”}

Let’s see if we’ve got this straight. If you’ve entered the race before but didn’t get to start, you’re one notch above rock bottom on the bell curve, Galton’s board of probability, the periodic table of the elements, or, of course, your ALGORITHM.

{“I just loooooooooooooooooooove al-ge-BRA, donnnnnnn’t yoooooooooou?”}

But if you’ve qualified, having run some race somewhere sometime before now, you move two notches sideways from dead left on the curve and your name may or may not be selected–completely at random, of course, by your blind little chimpanzee who cranks the cage and reaches in to fetch a number which is then cross-referenced to the trigonometrical formula used to determine the declination of Earth’s axis at that time of day which then, via painfully developed flow chart, points to whether or not your name will likely ever be drawn to begin with.

{“And wee con-tiiiiiiiiiin-ue to mod-i-fy the pro-ceeeeeee-dure to make it fair for EV-ER-Y-BO-DY!!!”}

So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light during the ceremonies, O Calculus Graduate of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, because there are twenty thousand–at least–gawkers and cybertronic glommers-on to your mathematical formulae for accepting their 500-dollar entry fees, so that at least one percent of them can actually go to Somewoods, USA, and run your trails some three years hence. Or you could, of course, just do it like The Barkley does and pick only those YOU want in your woods in the first place.

{Mis-terrrrr Comm-pleeeete-ly Whacked-Out O-ver-crowd-ed Foot-race En-trants’ Lot-ter-y In-vennnnnnnnnnnnn-tor!}

Bud Light beer: we don’t care where they brew it; we just dig their commercials.

( O_O )

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Check out this new outlet:
http://www.trailrunevents.com/ul/stories.asp.

Resource:
http://thefuntimesguide.com/2004/10/bud_light_real.php.

Yankee Folly of The Day:
Don’t listen to me. I was just selected by a lottery, yes, based on yesterday’s closing Dow Jones average on the New York Stock Exchange. I kid you not!