[Background: This saga began with the fourth bullet point in this post. Chapter two is here. Now it continues…]

From: Peterson, Preston yellowarmbandforlance@hotmail.com
To: Norvell, Thad
Sent: Friday, August 26, 11:39 PM
Subject: dumbut of the month

Listen up butt sniffer. I was going to leeve you alone after you gave me that good trick about the plastic bag and all, but tehn I heard from someone down the street that all of a sudden everyone in the hole dam world is saying that Lance was smoking drugs to win all his races. As soon as I heard this I knew how it started because you are the only person I ever heard of who doesn’t like Lance. I don’t know if your girlfriend broak up with you because she has a crush on Lance or what, dude, but you need to give it up. He’s better than you an d no amount of lieing that you do is going to change that. Lie lie lie and call yourself a French news paper, but at the end of your life you will be a sad liar inhell and Lance will still be living strong in heaven (if he ever even dies, which he may not since he’s already beat cancer and is the best shaped athlete ever, unlike you and your fat self. You would probably die the first day you got cancer.) Besides, I can’t believe anyone believes your stupid story about the drugs. It doesn’t make any sense that he could race so fast while he was high, and everyone knows you can’t keep pee stored for six years. I stored some in a Mountain Dew bottle for seven months and then one day it spastaneusly exploded all over my closet. My closet still smells like the corner of my grandma’s  living room where the cat lives and my mom still won’t go in there, even when she’s drunk. So you can take your scarcasm and jelousy and stick them in your rear and pull them out your ear weiner nose. If me and Austin ever see you on the street we are going to go gangsta on yo azz, just like it says in that Snoop song that we always listen to while we’re practicing to be Tour de France riders on the exercise bike in Austin’s garage. Austin might not look scary, but his Dad who would be a black belt if he hadn’t dropped out of Tiekwondo classes because they cheated him out of the third stripe on his green belt taught him how to do num chucks. Austin practices every day and he could beat you down before you ever even knew he was in the room if he saw you on the street. Also I am learning how to thrown ninja throwing stars, and even though I only have paper stars right now, I’m saving my allowance to buy some real ones from some real ninjas who have a w ebsite where they sell ninja weapons. So you better keep you and your sad Aggie self (Lance is a real LONGHORN by the way not a stupid Aggie) out of our way. And anyways, I’m calling the police and ESPN to tell them you were the pee pirate who mad eup the Lance story.

Preston Peterson

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From: Norvell, Thad
To: Peterson, Preston
Sent: Tuesday, August 30, 10:03 AM
Subject: Re: dumbut of the month

Dear Preston:

It’s great to hear from you again. After you didn’t respond to my last email, I was afraid I had offended you in some way and we’d never talk again. This, of course, would have been devastating to me.

I can imagine that the news of the last week or so has been very unsettling for you and the millions like you who have made the yellow rubber ring your featured accessory for the last couple of years. I mean, what would it mean for the whole sloganeering enterprise and for the feel good foundation you’ve all built your strong way of living on if Lance was juicing (and not Jack LaLanne’s kind of juicing)?

Speaking of juice, I’ve also gone in a Mountain Dew bottle before, once while driving my car across West Texas, and several times when I was in a particular temporary living situation where it was not as simple as it should have been to go to the bathroom at night. I also once went in a Dr. Pepper bottle while driving down I-20 in Dallas in broad daylight. I consider this one of my top 5 all time feats behind the wheel. However, I don’t suggest you try this, especially on your bike. Though it might be a smidge less dangerous than peeing in a bottle on an interstate while driving 70 mph, the bike doesn’t afford you the same level of privacy that a car does.

Anyway, I always remembered to dispose of the bottles before there was an explosive mishap, and I’ll add your experience to my portfolio of pee bottle anecdotes. It is, without a doubt, instructive.

Preston, while I understand your frustration with the mounting suggestions that Lance might have had some help living strong, you should know that I’m not the only skeptic. In fact, Keith Olbermann wrote a fine piece just today articulating the kind of suspicion that many of us have but can’t seem to voice without being labeled as pro-cancer (and I have a clear record of voting anti-cancer).

And while I hate to be the punctuation police, your conspicuous lack of commas in the part of your email when you suggest that I pull my "scarcasm and jelousy" out my "ear weiner nose" leaves me confused. Did you intend to tell me to pull these things from my ear, then call me a wiener nose? Or were you telling them to pull them out of my ear wiener while calling me a nose? Or something else equally disturbing? Please advise.

Finally, while Austin sounds like a cat not to be crossed, I have to warn you that I have a friend with expertise in the martial arts as well (give it a minute or so to load). I think it would be sad and unnecessary for him to have to shame and maim you or Austin. Maybe we should pull back on the violent rhetoric, no?

Peace, Preston, peace,


me when I’m really me

Last night I read this, this, this, and this. Then, at midnight, I went in and woke up my best buddy, made him hug me, and made sure he knew that Jesus loves him and Daddy loves him. Then I held and kissed my baby girl. Then I crawled into bed with my best friend and cried until my face hurt.

[A little reader feedback from this post.]

From: Peterson, Preston yellowarmbandforlance@hotmail.com
Subject: What’s ur prob queer?

Dear Mr. "I think I’m so much better than Lance" –

Who do you think u r, anyway? You think u can say mean things about the undisputed greatest cancer survivur to ever live like that. Lance has more courage in his left nut than you have in your whole, scrawny little body. Have you ever even been on a bike? Well, I have and I can tell you it’s not so easy to ride up steep hills as you seam to think, genus. It’s pretty freaking hard. One time I wrode up my street three times in one day because my friend Austin (who is named after the awesum town where Lance the Great lives) kept calling me to come over but when I would go over his dad would answer the door and scream at me ("I ALREDY TOLD YOU AUSTIN ISN’T HERE SO STOP RINGING THE DAM DOORBELL AND LEAVE ME ALONE YOU FAT LITTLE TURD!!!") for waking him up from his nap (he works nights at the Speedy Stop) so I’d hav eto ride back home until Austin called me again. Finally I told him to meet me outside so his dad wuldn’t get so pissed at me. Then we rode bikes in the woods and found a dirty magazine out there. Don’t tell Austin’s dad, okay? Austin says he’ll just take it away from us and put it on the top shelf of his closet. Riding bikes is not a joke, but not that you’d know anything about that. Your probably fat and lazy, which is why your so jealus of Lance. Lance wins the tour every year by wriding up and down the Everest Mountains faster than all those other drug using French weenies trying to wreck him so he won’t win, which is much harder than riding up my hill, which is also very hard, especialy when you have to ride it three times in one day while thinking about that dirty magazine you found.

Lance is my  hero and he’s a hearo to lots of other people too so you should be more careful what you say. Do you have any idea how many people’s lifes he’s saved by beating cancer and winning the Tour de France so many times? Have you even seen the Nike commercials or are you so lazy and busy doing things like writing hate posts to watch TV? Probably, idiot. I bet you don’t even have a LIVESTRONG band, do you? Probably to lazy to get one or too cheap to buy one. There only a dollar you know. And everytime you buy one a cancer survivor gets another chance at life, you stupid lazy idoit! I have eight, but only because I lost one at the mall and Austin’s dad ripped one off my arm the thrid time I woke him up that day.

Later hater,

Preston "LIVESTRONG" Peterson

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From: Norvell, Thad
To: Peterson, Preston
Subject: Re: What’s ur prob queer?

Dear Preston,

Thank you for your well-worded and poignant response to my recent musings on everyone’s All American, Lance Armstrong. I’m not sure how a link to my blog got posted on the Pokemon webring, but I’m glad you found me. I normally don’t respond to hate mail, but you’ve been so vulnerable in sharing about your personal life that I felt I owed you a few thoughts and clarifications.

First, while I may indeed be an idiot, I am not jealous of Lance. I am, however, jealous of you and Austin. I used to love riding my blue and yellow Huffy (with mag wheels) through the woods, and my friends and I also once found a dirty magazine. A little tip: get a big Ziplock bag for it, and then bury it under some leaves and stuff in the woods. This will protect it both from the elements and Austin’s dad, who is obviously a grouchy perv.

Second, I am little and scrawny, but I’m not sure that clarification is necessary. Your position on my size seems to shift a bit through the narrative of your email. Either way, I’m not small because I ride my bike a lot; I just have a high metabolism. I’m sure I couldn’t keep up with Lance on a bike, or with you and Austin (especially in the Everest Mountains or on your hill). And, if I’m honest, I am a little lazy, but not so lazy that I’ve missed the Nike commercials. I have to admit, they’re pretty compelling, especially when shown at every single commercial break. And leaving out the part about all of Lance’s pharmaceutical habits certainly helps with that [AWW SNAP! NO YOU DI-IN’T!!].

Finally, Lance does not, in fact, have "more courage in his left nut" than me. Turns out, they had to snip that bad boy off when he got the cancer. Listen, I actually feel bad for the guy about that, so let’s not go bandying his excised marbles about the internet willy nilly. Sheryl Crow seems to be okay with his current configuration, so whatever. I’m not sure how Kristin — you know, the mother of his three children who he ditched to roll with rock starlets and supermodels — feels about all of that. But hey, he can ride a bike fast and a bunch of high priced doctors and drugs extracted all the cancer cells from his body, so his various personal indiscretions and overt narcissism are no reason to refrain from bowing down at his ten-speed throne.

Live strong, Preston, live strong.

Yours in yellow,