Real Men/Women of Genius #103

[Continuing along with this week’s “tradition” of peeps nominating other peeps for “the treatment,” we, uh, now have the following, um, “thing” as nominated or suggested by someone who wishes to remain anonymous. Can’t blame the person. I’d do this anonymously, too, but then peeps would start recognizing *me* all over this as being the butt of the joke. Wouldn’t want that. I’m already the butt of all other known jokes throughout the known universe; so, no need to be layin’ these here bad babies on me, too, eh? ;]

Bud Light presents…

REAL MEN OF GENIUS

{Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss!}

Today we salute you, Mr. Grandstanding My-Anything’s-Better-Than-Your-Everything Thereby Making-Me-Better-Than-You.

{“Eeeeeeeeee-ven my air is bet-ter than your airrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”}

You’re a triathlete, so your ride is a titanium flyweight super-cycle that costs twelve thousand dollars. You’re also an ultrarunner, so you have one of each of the top of every line of everything, which also costs twelve thousand dollars. Everyone else just wears huaraches and sackcloth, lives in a trailer park, and runs on pavement covered with glass shards and beer cans. The entire known universe is “worser” than you.

{“Caaaaaaan’t wait un-til to-mor-row, ‘cuzzzzzzz I-get-bet-ter-look-ing-ev-err-y-daaaaaaaay!”}

No one else’s humble opinion could possibly be “humbler” than yours. No one else’s method “varies” quite like yours does. No one else’s facts jive with your “truth,” and if they go so far as to try and actually *prove* something by citing a website and posting its hyperlink? Fuhgeddaboudit. Only you can tell them that the website’s facts are faulty, its references obscure and no longer valid, and that hyperlink is broken–or at least it doesn’t work on YOUR computer.

{Yes! Your doub-ble-in-su-la-ted-chem-i-cal-ly-fil-tered-bot-an-i-cal-ly-friend-ly hyyyy-dra-tion sys-tem IS su-pee-ri-orrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!}

You have the last word on absolutely everything. No one else need opine, comment, apply, protest, or go into debt researching the actual truth to the ends of the earth. No. We should all just shut up, unfurl our prayer rugs, and prostrate ourselves towards whichever direction your argument is heading, because we just cannot possibly win. You are–or certainly by universal acclaim SHOULD BE–our god. Just please save us from our own ignorance and eternal damnation in the slough of despond, Valley of Death, or being DFL at the back of the pack.

{Ifffffff you were a pre-cious stone, we’d have youuu moun-ted and pubbbbb-lic-ly kiss you on the grass!}

So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light, O Chairman of the Board of Absolutely Everything, and have it all to yourself; because, as the Lesser God Almighty already knows, there just ain’t no winning of arguments with you. Even HE would need to make another whole chilled case of quarts magically appear out of thin, albeit inferior, air–just to pay off His lost wager, have you tell Him how good or bad It (or He) is, where it was brewed and at what pace and heartrate, and just how long it’ll retain its core temperature while running in heat through the desert downhill out of the bottle.

{Mis-terrrrrrrrr Graaaaaaaand-staaaan-ding My-An-y-thing’s-Bet-ter-Than-Your-Ev-er-y-thing Therrre-by Maaaa-king-Meeeee-Bet-ter-Than-You!}

Bud Light beer: we don’t care where they brew it, how, or at what temperature; 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:
You don’t suppose, do you, that the entire economy of the United States is based on a ponzi scheme?