Tuesday, March 3, 2009

An open letter to those guilty of transforming these once proud, contributing members of their communties...


The names have been changed to protect the innocent…

Dear Mr. Guitar Ted, Associate TI Race Organizers, TI Sponsors, et. al:

The purpose of this correspondence is to officially inform you of the fact that a substantial number of relatives, business/school partners, and clients/students on behalf of Plaintiff 1 (TE) and Plaintiff 2 (CF) have collectively retained my legal services, as a member in good standing with the Minnesota State Bar Association, in a desperate effort to seek financial redress from those responsible for the drastic and profound devolution of these once proud, functioning, and balanced aforementioned gentlemen. Due to the fact that TE and CF are at this time incapable of coherent thought, those directly affected by their moral declines have decided to bring a class action law suit against those of whom are most directly involved in this egregious affair. Therefore, it is our firm’s opinion that you (and your associates/sponsors, et. al), as the race director of the Trans-Iowa (TI), is one of several complicit parties that have acted in concert to promote the deterioration of these once well adjusted, decent, middle-aged family men. Note: Others under legal consideration for monetary reparations to the injured parties aforementioned are affiliated with several other like minded “endurance cycling” albeit counterproductive, even cultish events, including the Arrowhead 135, the Almanzo 100, and the WEMS series). Note also that at this time our firm is in the initial gathering stage of obtaining information from other sources pertaining to the dramatic moral decline of several other once respectable middle aged men that have also recently begun to train for and participate in these so-called “endurance cycling events.”

To date on behalf of the plaintiffs and their legal guardians, I have filed the proper documents and legal briefs with the Saint Louis County Attorney’s General Department, begun to develop a theory of the case, and have embarked on the actual fact-finding segment of my work. Consequently I have obtained sworn depositions from many persons close to both TE and CF and the picture they paint is one of a steady decline in both mental faculties and perspective world views. All involved report a systemic narrowing of the two men’s frame of reference to the point of total myopia and obsessive amoral allegiance to what the men refer to as simply, “THE ROAD.” For example, TE’s committed wife will ask in a quiet resigned voice, “T, honey what do you have planned for later today?” And inevitably TE will respond in a robotic monotone, “The Road, there is only THE ROAD, for the TI is just around the corner and then there are the WEMS races.” CF’s charming little girl will anxiously ask her father, “Daddy, can we maybe go skiing this weekend like we used to do?” And of course, it is always the same response from CF, “There is only The Road, there is no time to play, I must get more time on THE ROAD, the TI is only weeks away and then there is the Almanzo 100.” All agree, beyond any reasonable doubt, that these “D.B.D.” sessions have intensified in length and breath of bizarre commitment and absurdity as TE and CF ready themselves for your race! To date, I have been unable to decipher what indeed these three letters, D-B-D stand for, but I assure you it is not a healthy or productive epithet. Yet, I can tell you that these D.B.D. sessions are a direct result of your race and I intend to prove this key point in a civil court of law.

The following is a recent case-in-point: On Sunday, March 1st, 2009, TE and CF left their respective homes just a few minutes pass 4:00 a.m. to embark on yet another one these sessions of which they have come to regard as their “D.B.D. Trans-Iowa training rides.” Of course, given the time and season, it was pitch-black out and seven degrees below zero combined with a fifteen to twenty miles-an-hour head wind, making for an extremely frigid morning. These meteorological figures we know to be true as the National Weather Service is my source. The rest of what happened on this rather typical “DBD” ride, however, is based on the constrained and confused testimonies of CF and TE, both of whom, in terms of lucidity fall way outside the confines of what this firm’s psychologist considers “normal.” Below are two brief excerpts from an official, legally-binding transcribed, verbatim discussion I had with TE and CF regarding this most recent DBD session. The taped discussions were done alone with just me and the plaintiffs individually. TE initially discusses aspects of the DBD ride followed by CF’s account of the same scenario [Take note of the obvious psychosis, but also remember that these were, until recently, normally functioning and educated, even sophisticated men. Note: There may yet be a cure for TE, but I am afraid that CF is too far gone]:

As I am currently spending every day and night thinking about the upcoming Trans Iowa, I contemplate my love/hate relationship with this portion of my training. Training for the event requires one to completely "shock" the body from time to time, forcing it to respond to greater distances and harsher conditions in order to be ready for anything. The TI not only requires you to be physically fit, but mentally fit or more importantly tough. Therefore, my training partner and I subject ourselves to unusual circumstances on purpose often just to see if we can take it. Well, this one may have been one step over the line. The bad part about the wind was that we needed to go north for 4 hours before our turn which would take us to the north east. We drafted off each other for the first two hours in a quickened pace trying to raise our core temps. The cold was penetrating our upper body which is never good, and rare. At one point while riding in the second position I noticed my partner swerving about the road. I was inclined to ask if he was o.k. his response highlighted the moment, "I can't see my eyes are freezing shut."His candor was reinforcing, comforting, and noteworthy. I remember thinking at the time that Mallory would be proud…

I am currently spending every day thinking about nothing else but the upcoming Trans Iowa. Sunday’s DBD session allowed my training partner and I to experience the joys of THE ROAD in a manner that was both unique and revolutionary for I think it was probably the coldest I have ever been on a bicycle, which is something considering... In any event, I was able to watch my training partner’s head become progressively encased in an icy crust to the extent of eventually resembling the inside of a malfunctioning old 1950s style freezer. This gradual process of the ice encasement of my training partner’s head, for some strange reason brought great joy to me. About two hours into the ride, my chamois for some indiscernible reason was frozen solid which afforded me the sensation of straddling a frozen waterfall while in the nude, which had the odd effect of moistening my eyes. The dampness caused my eyes to freeze up. My cadence on the pedals and line thus became irregular, so I pulled over to assess the problem. My training partner mocked me for crying frozen tears, but I assured him that they were not tears of sadness nor torment. I then reminded him that tearing up as a response to despair is categorically banned in the DBD manual, but I did concede that I was perhaps experiencing tears of joy. I used the warmth from my hand to melt the ice that trapped my eyes and continued on, after mocking my training partner’s ice-encased head, of which had developed into a kind of bulky white head armor reminiscent of those worn by the Knights of King Arthur’s Round-table, but I don’t think he heard me because of significant ice-crusting located near his ear areas. Since my whole crotch area, the whole undercarriage, so to speak, was essentially frozen solid, I found striding to be difficult and yet from time to time we were forced to walk as a remedy or at least a momentary respite for our frozen feet. When I commented to my training partner on the dichotomy of the situation, he responded with an inaudible echo and I remember thinking that was really funny…I had a deadline to follow, I don’t remember why, but I needed to be back in eight and one-half hours…So, we eventually parted ways as my training partner felt that an eight hour effort would not constitute a DBD work-out…He berated me with something like “just eight hours!!! No way...You’ll never finish the TI at that rate. Mallory should have you shackled and whipped like a common roadie!” I remember loathing his huge frosty white ice-encased head as it went bobbing into the distance for he left me on The ROAD alone…a salty incomprehensible fluid filled my eyes, at first I was perplexed and then I remembered that salts would help with my leg cramps, so that was a good thing…I rode home feeling nothing…it was a great ride!...

They both went on like that for hours. It was sad. It is also important to note at this juncture that the two plaintiffs have obviously come to revere George Mallory, who even in death, has the where-with-all to fill these men with notions of delusionary grandeur. Mallory preaches a form of Intellectual-Reductionism as a kind of simplified, or even instinctual, manifestation of cognition. Mallory encourages his devotees to seek out absurd events such as your Trans-Iowa in an effort to afford his loyal cadre the opportunity to test their meddle even within the “confines of a modern soft mambe pambe sort of world." Mallory, schooled in the art of legal subtleties, knows full well that he is essentially beyond the reach of the law due to his official listing as “deceased.” He uses this legal shield to perpetrate his will upon those of whom are in their twilight years of athleticism and are yet reluctant to secede their ambitions to the golf course.

There is no doubt that if we could sue Mallory we would, but we cannot. Yet, we can sue you…But we are willing to deal with you. An out-of-court settlement is not an unreasonable outcome. I look forward to hearing for you. Do the right thing and contact me, before our court date.

Sincerely,

C. U. Encourt, Esquire

1 comment:

  1. Now I don't care who you are, that was funny.

    ReplyDelete

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