Shoes, Ships, and Sealing Wax

(My personality type, incidentally, is niche)

Yes, I have heard the news. But it is still Tour de France time, so that's where my mind is, mostly.

Found via TDF Blog: Fat Cyclist's Tour de France Personality Test.

I read this laughing my ass off. Of course, it was lost on the guy in the next cubicle, which reminded me of part of yesterday's Gene Weingarten chat:

Anonymous: Doubtfire, MI

You realize, don't you, that you're catching all this baseball grief from a woman who has taken a cue from her girly-legged husband and follows pro cycling? This is a sport where the premier event lasts three weeks, whereas in baseball it only seems that way. And where the action can be just as subtle to the less educated. But where watching it in person doesn't help. But we'll attend a baseball game with you if you'll watch a bike race with us. Here are some tips, if you'd like:

1. Be European.

2. Arrive early. By this I mean three or four days early for some of the more choice, mountainous locations.

3. Pass the time by drinking heavily and painting the pavement with slogans and symbols, preferably giant penises (somehow these never make it onto network TV, but trust me, it's the standard motif).

4. When the caravan goes by - a parade of floats and tarted-up cars blasting music and throwing treats and chotchkes - risk your life scooping up gimmes. (Pamplona is for wussies.)

5. Spend about three seconds, or up to thirty if you've scored that mountaintop vantage, watching a bunch of sweaty skeletons fly by in possibly the most beautiful, awe-inspiring and (with full acknowledgement of those who would have us believe it is hitting a fastball) difficult feats in sport.

And because I'm a glutton for abuse, I'll throw this out (ahead of any results from today's key first-day-in-the-real-mountains): My heart is with Armstrong, but my money is on Vinokourov or Basso.

Gene Weingarten: This is Jef Mallett, creator of "Frazz."

Jef, this is funny, but I suspect many people sort of skipped right over it. You are a zealot. It reminds me of a time I was at a Gordon Lightfoot concert in Detroit many years ago. Gordon came onstage and spoke in a heartfelt manner to the crowd, congratulating them, seriously, on their wonderful recent good fortune and opining about how proud they must [b]e.

People were looking at each other, shrugging shoulders. It turned out the Red Wings had just gotten into the playoffs, or won the first round, or something. Gordon, a Canadian, thought people would give a rat's ass. So finally he sort of shuffled back to stage rear and played the Edmund Fitz.

Hahahaha.