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2017 TDF: German Techno Couple ~Swimsuit Edition~

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Nationality: German.
Costuming: Tribal Tattoos, Speedos, fanny packs, mirrored sunglasses, body jewelry, singlets.
Special Powers: Seemingly endless energy, positivity, unflinchingly unselfconscious, good vibrations.
Natural Habitat: Villages on the side of a climb, anywhere with loud music and a good EDM DJ.

Germany is known around the world for three things:

  1. Precision
  2. Beer
  3. Bad Techno Music

Now, some might argue that there are other things out there but guess what? We took a poll and the poll said the top three consists of precision, beer and bad techno music. And polls can’t lie.

Precision runs through all aspects of German life; it’s easily identified in their factories, automobiles and machinery. Beer?, they love the stuff: steins and beer halls, Oktoberfest and weekends, weekdays, mornings, nights, afternoons, church, sports, school events, etc. all of our research tells us—unequivocally—that Germans love beer. And it is the Germans who have unleashed the unstoppable crusade of Bad Techno upon the world, drilling our ears and our emotions with an seemingly never-ending amount of high-energy and high-tempo syncopated BPM.

Yet it takes something special to see all three of these disparate and incongruent characteristics in one place. Thankfully, the world has been blessed with the Tour de France.

“Here, amongst the narrow roads of The Alps and The Pyrenees, lured by the acrid smell of burning muscle, of body salt, of pain and exertion as well as the promise of a captive audience, the chance to gyrate on live international TV, the sheer joy of unquestioned exhibitionism that we find our Hansel and Gretel, our Germans.”

They are magnificent in appearance, displaying deep amaretto tans, a seal-esque lack of body hair, and the robust musculature of lapsed CrossFitters.

But elegant costuming is nothing without bravado, and our actors know their roles. It is on the side of Alpe d’Huez, in the dizzying alpine heat, that Hansel and Gretel will perform their unique ritual of dance and debauchery in service to the TDF. Their morning surely begins with a smorgasbord of beers, high-protein sausages and ecstasy—only then do our Germans have the ability to reach their full potential. And as they jump, hop, bounce, and skip—all the while hands pumping, all the while clapping with unabashed enthusiasm—they come to the moment when the peloton races past. It is no accident that they happen peak just as they encounter the race (or rather the race encounters them), such is the indelible imprint of their precision heritage, such is the intoxicating effects of their beer, such is the hypnotic pulsing of their Bad Techno. The rest of us are in awe as these addled dervishes meet the raw power of the peloton with their own untempered display of enthusiasm. They are here to not to witness the spectacle of the race, they are here to join it.

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