The Tour de France. One of the most grueling athletic endeavors on the planet hands down. If you have ever watched this race, at some point you will think; “Jebus how amazing are these guys?” Unfortunately, a nano-second later you will start wondering “Who the HELL are those idiots running alongside the riders?” Have you seen these jamokes yelling and screaming at the riders as they painfully pedal their way up the Pyrenees? Why is this allowed? Why aren’t they stopping this ridiculous and dangerous spectator interaction? Oh wait; it’s the Tour de France. Silly Frenchies!

Is it possible for any of us mere mortals to fathom what its like to train for years and years and YEARS, clawing to the top echelon of professional bike riding, to make it to the ultimate bike race in the world only to be verbally accosted by some chubby Butt Clown? Twenty-one days of soul crushing riding that most of us cannot imagine driving, let alone pedaling. And to top it off, these poor guys have to deal with some trotting drunken sphincter splatter shouting directly into their ears!

Pushing one’s body pasts its physical limits, making it do things that to date have been reserved for superheroes and the Snuggle Bear: legs screaming, lungs burning, hearts pounding, it’s all they can do to turn that huge sprocket over just one more time. Eyes focused on the road as they continue pumping away when all of a sudden some foreign anal gland decides to run along side them in a drunken stupor. Resplendent in their Jesus sandals, beach towel cape, beer can hat, and of course, absolutely NO olfactory evidence of deodorant.  But Senator Stinky Pants thinks it’s a capital idea to run alongside these remarkable athletes with all the grace of a beached overweight elephant seal during mating season!

In addition to this tighty whitey crotch crab, the riders have to contend with the crushing crowds as they lean in and try to get as close to the riders as is humanly possible. Like standing at the edge of a bubbling volcano; it is simply NOT going to end well. And unlike the aforementioned lava lover, the “runners” at the Tour de France not only put themselves in harms way (and really who cares about these butt buffoons) but they also risk the health and well being of the riders themselves. Just ask Giuseppe Guerini!

This race is truly one of the most grueling sporting events the planet has ever produced. That and of course the Lincoln Nebraska putt-putt golf players cup. So why on earth do the organizers put these amazing athletes at risk of a career ending injury by allowing intoxicated wedgie weenies to interfere? I guarantee you that this ridiculous practice will continue even if a rider is injured; unless of course it’s a French rider taken out by an American fan! Then you watch how quickly they change this abhorrent behavior. Faster than a soft cheese wheel passing the sound barrier down a hill in Gloucestershire! Mmmm English metaphor for a French burn….

I love watching the Tour de France; I LOATHE seeing the sardine like (visually and fragrantly) devotees. Not to mention the alcohol infused neophytes that insist on running 37 feet until they collapse into a gelatinous heap of malodorous corpulence. These athletes deserve to compete in this event without having to deal with spectator interference. It would be like going to a football game (real football NOT soccer) and allowing the drunken fans to run alongside the players cheering them on. Then again I would love to see an NFL defensive back take out a body painted marshmallow man at a full clip. Now that would be highlight reel!


  1. Every professional athlete who has spent a day TRYING to train with Lance Armstrong has discovered that Tour de France riders are among the toughest people on the planet. As creator of all mankind, I would like to take credit for that,… but I simply cannot. It’s all the riders, their training, and their impossibly endless fortitude. The Tour de France lasts roughly three weeks with only two rest days. Heck, even I had to rest on the seventh day. These athletes are truly top of the heap. And those boneheads who run alongside them? They are lower than the chafing blisters the riders get on their crotches.

  2. It’s simple really: the runners alongside the riders had “issues” as children. They were never given toys, as ever child not raised by Jewish parents had. (I had a cash register and a Roth IRA) Having no toys, they had to play with animals/people as they passed by. (“Im gonna touch you!”) Time passed, and the children grew to adults. However, their minds did not, and we have people in this world harassing athletes, attending the Westburough baptist church, and owning Sion Cubes!

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