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Post  Admin on Wed Nov 14, 2007 3:33 pm

After considering the legal, ethical, spiritual, aesthetic, historical, comic, environmental, physical and nonexistent ramifications of Plunkett throwing up Pabst Blue Ribbon multiple times in my yard, the organizing body of Fifth Street Cross has handed down a decision. No appeal from either side is possible.

It all comes down to one of our few actual rules:

#4: "If you cheat in a race that takes place in someone's yard and has its crux in a foot sprint through a kid's sandbox, you are a dick."
Plunkett's not a dick, so he didn't cheat. The PBRs stand.

Is that a loophole? Could be -- if you're a dick. Then you're a cheater and the beers won't stand. See the beauty of the logic?

Fifth Street Cross, as curious as it may sound, runs hard on the honor system. A guy who is riding his heart out and spews swill all over the course yet soldiers on to force another brew down his gullet is living with as much nobility as when he's running 6-minute laps with three peebers sloshing in his belly — It's about effort and heart amidst stupidity. And Plunkett has shown plenty of all three.

I'm more ashamed of those those of you who have been swinging so wide right to get onto firm ground that you're breaking the tape instead of gearing your ass down and churning through the loam pit the way you know you should be doing.

P.S. Bongs, funnels, shotguns, Pot Belge, sticking sausages in someone's seat tube, and personalized pornographic playing cards have never been and are still not allowed.


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