Real Men/Women of Genius #59

[This one–or is it two?–presented itself the other day. And again, I just can’t resist. Also please, “fictional characters that bear no resemblance to real-life characters,” take no offense! OK? ;-]

Bud Light presents…

REAL MEN OF GENIUS

{Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss}

Today we salute you, Messrs. All-of-a-Sudden Just-Now-Invented Vol-State “Relay Team.”

{Mis-ters hur-ried-ly con-coc-ted sec-ond-chance race teeeeeam in-ven-torrrrrs!}

So, after two-hundred-and-who-knows-how-many-miles, you suddenly want to quit? But then, just-as-suddenly you now discover you don’t have to? You simply grab some other guy and declare yourselves to be instantly in a relay, so that HE can take over YOUR running?

{Heeeeeee’s the first res-ted dude to showww up in a veeeeeee-hic-cle!}

This is brilliant. We’d pay hard money to watch this. Just imagine some goofily willing well-rested runner showing up in an air-conditioned golf cart, willing to be your pinch-runner for another hundred miles, and you get to rest in the dugout. It’s like you’ve died and gone to heaven, man! Major League Baseball isn’t even this good.

{Now yoooooooooooooooooou get to drive the golf carrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt!}

Making up the rules as y’all run along? Is this kosher? Is it “according to Hoyle”? Was there ever any “hint” that you even ever were–or had ever intended to be when you signed up and agreed to run the race solo and unaided–a “relay team”?

{Were thoooooose U-S-A-T-F innnn-sur-rance paaaaaa-pers changed?}

Let’s see if we have this straight. You entered the race as one runner–who amazingly became two. You started out and ran until just slightly before death. Then, lo, there was this genius brainpower afoot in the Kingdom of Heaven and an angel shows up, driving a cool car. You get in, the angel gets out, and just like as if a miracle occurred and the Holy Ghost himself spooked you out on Highway 61, your race-day entry application gets back-dated to show you’re a two-member team.

{“Wellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllcome to the Pleas-ure Dome!”}

And what’s even better, of course, is that there are no other relay teams in the race. So you and your Real Angel of Genius are going to win that division!

{“Owe Myyyyy Goddddddddddd! How much do we now owe God??”}

So crack open–whilst your partner hoofs it–an ice-cold Bud Light from that heavenly ice chest in the trunk of your Cloud 9 car, O Reverend Misters Best Evangelical Co-Faith Healers Ever, because like no other human beings in history, you two have been “touched by an angel.”

{Mis-tersss All-of-a-Sudddddd-den Just-Now-In-vennnn-ted Vol-State “Reeeeeee-lay Teeeeeeeam”!}

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:
www.contemporaryinsanity.org/audio-video/bud-light-real-men-of-genius.html
There’s that and, of course, some real danger that yours troubly’s course record for slowest-possible-ever-finishing-time-on-the-course is in real danger of being broken!