Real Men/Women of Genius #20

 

Bud Light presents…

REAL MEN OF GENIUS

{Real men of geeeeeene-yuss}

Today we salute you, Mr. Anal-Retentive Runner and Bodily-Functions-Forever-Over-the-Internet Reporter.

{Mis-ter taaaaaaaaaaaaake a looooooook at my blis-ter puss!}

It takes a pretty special kind of cowboy with some pretty powerful urges to always want to publicize the athlete’s post-race excess fungal webbing in between your toes all across the world wide web.

{Donnnnnn’t for-get the toe jam!}

You are nothing if not a master of prose, of literature, and of adjective and adverb and every color in the crayon box. And what a clever inventor of fresh ideas you are! Describing what the rest of humanity is sure to wish to imitate in following your lead, and peeling off their own flaps of blister callous and then paperclipping that skin to the bib numbers enshrined on their wall, which they wore at the race where they got those blisters in the first place.

{Where do you pre-serve all the dried blood?}

“The puss had oozed out into my socks,” you write. “It was a thick and mucous ooze, maybe of the consistency of 50-weight Zen motorcycle oil, only colored yellow and puce with overtures of sick slime green,” you say. Of course, what your legions of fans throughout cyberspace are desperately wanting to ask you is: “Did you put some in your mouth?” and “What did it taste like?”

{Probbbbbbbbbbly tastes like after-birth}

Toenails? Please. Those never-ending blackened and removed ones are your stock-in-trade. Your vivid descriptions of self-mutilating appendages surgery ought to be guest editorials in the Journal of the American Medical Association. Be aware though: There is a running club in Texas that makes ceremonial necklaces out of those disgusting things donated by the members’ own toes.

{Kinnnda like Im-mun-i-ty on “Survivor!”}

So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light, O Norman Mailer of the YouTube generation, and guzzle it in front of your webcam, because with words like yours and images like that, you’re undoubtedly next in line for the Pulitzer Prize.

{Mis-ter Anal-Retentive Runner and Bodily-Functions-Forever-Over-the-Internet Reporter!}

Bud Light beer: we don’t care where it’s made, we just dig their commercials.

( O_O )

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Yankee Folly of the Day:
Anybody wanna read about my abscessed throat puncture that preceded my tonsillectomy?