Oral Rehydration Salts


RMOG # 4 - Mr. Barkley Marathons Race Director

by Rich "The Troubadour" Limacher (by permission)

RMOG # 4 {this was "the first one"}

Bud Light presents...


{Real men of geeeeeene-yuss}

Today we salute you, Mr. Barkley Marathons Race Director.

{Scruffy Unkempt Tennessee Chicken Farmerrrrrrrrrrr}

Whereas most athletes on planet Earth train for years only to completely exhaust themselves running one marathon, you, in your directorial wisdom, give them FIVE.

{Whoa! Five trips around the freezing park}

Never mind that Pheidippides arrived in Athens after his short sprint across Greece and died, you now suddenly expect runners to stay alive for three whole days in uncharted Tennessee back hills surrounding the very prison where James Earl Ray also died.

{We're too young to remember him}

You send your runners, walkers, and crawlers out into the wilderness with an ancient map and even worse directions---to climb sheer cliffs in fog and blizzard, to fend off rattlesnakes, and have every part of their entire body pierced by thorns... and attempt it all on the nourishment afforded by ONE prerace dinner of barbequed, digitally-prepared still-frozen chicken.

{Don't forget the baked beans}

So crack open a Bud Light, oh Sorcerer of the Sawbriar, you won't even need an ice chest. Just put a six-pack out there with the first water drop, and before your lead runner gets there, he'll be more frozen than the beer is.

{Mister Barkley Marathons Race Dir-reh-hec-torrrrrrrrrrrrr}

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

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Yankee Folly of the Day:
Next up? My parody of United States Naval "genius" currently on display in the Indian Ocean.

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