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Real Men/Women of Genius #77

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  • The Troubadour
    Bud Light presents... REAL MEN OF GENIUS {Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss} Today we salute you, Mr. Blogger-Twitter-Tweeter-Woofer-MySpacedOut-Facebooker While
    Message 1 of 1 , Jan 14 12:04 PM
      Bud Light presents...


      {Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss}

      Today we salute you, Mr.
      Blogger-Twitter-Tweeter-Woofer-MySpacedOut-Facebooker While Still Running in
      the Footrace Footracer.

      {Mis-ter Whoa! Thissssssss Is A Mouuuuuuuuth-fulllllllllll!!}

      You are truly something special. Leave it to you to take that "one step
      beyond" just talking on the telephone--in the middle of some national
      forest--to actually receiving and sending MAIL from there. And all the
      while barely breaking stride, except when you can't see that miniscule
      little plasma screen in the blazing sunlight, or you hit the wrong buttons,
      or fat-finger several keys at once, or get the addresses wrong. *Then*
      you're stopping for twenty minutes at a clip.

      {Sommmmmmme-times there's dropped connnnn-nec-tionsssssssssssss!}

      Please. Are there mailboxes bolted to those maple trees? Does the US
      Postal Service drive its little funky trucks down the trail and pick up
      every thirty minutes? Nah, make that every thirty seconds! Is there
      something wrong with the audio on your cell? Do you sincerely NEED TO
      browse the Internet while slogging through 50 miles of extreme muddy jungle?

      {"Wel-commmmme to the jung-gle, we got fun and--video--gamessssssssssss!"}

      And just who *are* these blog, Twit, or sweet Tweet "followers" whom you are
      now Twittering that aren't, by the way, running right on your heels? Do you
      imagine countless thousands? Do you actually tell yourself that there truly
      *are* zillions of "peeps" "out there" who have no life but to sit there,
      dial up, glom on, and watch YOURS?

      {"I wonnnn-der how The Bark-leeeey Vir-gin is doooo-ing

      Puh-leeeeeease, Mr. Modern-day Postmaster Descendant of Ben Franklin, those
      countless thousands of your presumed followers all have their own cell
      phones, Facebook accounts, MySpace spaces, and the totally frittering
      capability of sending "You've Got Mail!" to all of THEIR imagined countless
      thousands of followers on Twitter.

      {"Maaaaaaay-be I could save min-utesssssss by just sennnnnnd-ding a

      And the hapless results are: everybody's mailing but nobody's reading.

      {Nexxxxxxxt you'll-beeeee-Tweeeet-ting Sears cat-a-logggggs!}

      So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light, O Faithful Lettercarrier We Forgot to
      Leave a Christmas Present for, because now you actually, really and truly,
      get to experience for your very own self precisely *why* the United States
      Postal Service is going broke. All those trailside tree-mounted mailboxes
      are being stuffed-to-overflowing ONLY with unopened junk mail, and
      advertisers are beginning to take the hint. They're all dropping their
      presorted prepaid mail accounts and pecking on their cell phones, too.

      iile-Still-Run-ning-in-the-Foot-race Foot-raaaaaaaacer!}

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

      ( O_O )

      Yours troubly,

      Rich Limacher
      "that 800-year-old lute-plucking, ale-sucking, e-mailing song-and-dance man
      from France"
      (now on tab at http://www.runrace.net/)

      Yankee Folly of the Day:
      Please don't "unfriend" me because I'm (at least to *my* countless thousands
      of totally imaginary lookers and gawkers) "booty-full."
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