Real Men/Women of Genius #58

[How could I possibly resist? ;-]

Bud Light presents…

REAL MEN OF GENIUS

{Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss}

Today we salute you, Mr. Impossible-Even-To-Believe Vol-State Inventor and Race Director.

{Mis-ter HOT tenn-ness-ssee cross-staaaaate foot-raaace in-ven-torrrr!}

Three hundred and fourteen complete and entire miles, on foot, in ten days, and kitty-corner across the full State of Tennessee in the middle of July. You have got to be out of your mind.

{It reeeeea-ly stands for a hunnn-dred times “pi” wiiiiiith-out a-ny ex-tra dec-i-mallllllllls!}

You’re imagining, of course, that there actually IS some slim statistical chance that someone will remotely, actually survive. At least we can remotely assume this; but, of course, if THIS is any indication of just how your mind does work, we’d rather actually not assume. Not anything. Not ever. Not in this life or the next, nor on this earth or the next.

{Verrr-ry fewwwwww can hope to liiiiiiiiiive to tell aaa-bout iiiiiiiiiiiiit!}

Blisters? Hot pavement? Mean attacking “junk yard dogs”? Please. The only things your wickedly concocted footrace possibly DOESN’T have are discount coupons to any of the local funeral homes.

{“Wheeeeeeeeeere would-you-liiiiiiiike-us-to-ship-the bodddddd-y?”}

And daily you report to us such pearls of wisdom as “he was happy” and “so-and-so was sleeping behind a burger joint”–no doubt for eternity–and “the long walk is like shaking a box of crackers thru a sieve.” But of course, all of our crackers just scream when we do this, which, of course, is something else we’ve never done.

{Sommmmme of the crack-kers wiiiith-arms-and-legs gettttttttt stuck!}

So crack, yes, open an ice-cold Bud Light from the front seat of your pace car, O Culinary Master of The Jedi Pedi, because while you are text-messaging the profundities of your roadway philosophy, twenty billion shoeless and starving children are dying in China, while only just over a dozen are doing it right there.

{Mis-ter Im-posss-sibb-ble-E-ven-To-Bee-lieve Vol-State In-vennn-tor an’ Race Di-wreck-torrrrrr!}

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

( O_O )

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Yankee Folly of the Day:
http://www.contemporaryinsanity.org/audio-video/bud-light-real-men-of-genius.html
Here’s the one I like best: “Mr. 80 SPF Sunblock Wearer,” which today… might just actually BE rather appropriate!