Last night I saw the parents of the Tour de France winner, Floyd Landis, interviewed.
First of all, who names their kid Floyd? Unless his father’s name is also Floyd. But I just checked. His father’s name is Paul. So why Floyd? Why? So we go from a “Lance”, which is the quintessential make-out-king name, to “Floyd”. Floyd, who has a bad hip. The Tour de France really lost its sexiness factor this year, eh?
But back to Paul and Arlene, the parents. They taped the race and watched it later because they didn’t want to miss church. Your son is in the frickin’ final day of the Tour de France and you tape it? I can’t speak for God (unlike, apparently, a lot of other people these days) but I’d like to think he’d cut you some slack on this if you stayed home to watch the race live. Maybe?
Third thing, the mother said that the victory was owed to God. Just once, I want to see the parents of the 2nd or 3rd place finisher ask: Why did God give my son the finger? I guess Oscar Pereiro’s parents aren’t religious enough. Heathens.
Here’s a mouth-watering headline:
“Landis' Pennsylvania hometown celebrates religiously”
I dare you to think of a party that sounds less fun. Whoa, go easy on the sarsaparilla there, Paul.
Apparently Floyd left the Mennonite fold a long time ago, and he’s been pedalling away from it as fast as he can ever since. But they love him anyway. That’s nice.