Old Dude is Still Figuring out Facebook, Blows Up Horndog Fest for Julia Mancuso

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This week’s social media equivalent of someone ‘introducing’ you to Modest Mouse.

By Kyle Magin

People who are sincere on social media are the best. A typically fun/sexy/I-live-in-sunny-perfect-places Facebook post from World Cup skier Julia Mancuso of she and bestie/rad snowboarder Hannah Teter paddleboarding in bikinis on Lake Tahoe this week produced this particular comment thread:

Let’s run that back for a second to really appreciate Bradford Whipple.

Robert drops a post Julia may or may not have been fishing for by posting a picture of her bikini’d bottom (which she works her ass off for as professional athletes do) on Facebook and compliments the hardware.

Gary jumps in to make sure Hannah gets her propers for likewise having a fine heiny.

My man Robert is like yeah, I now acknowledge that both of them are working it.

And then, boom, Bradford Whipple jumps in:

“Will you compete in Soelden in October?”

Bradford. BRADFORD. You dug through three layers of a fundamentally sexist conversation about Julia’s butt to ask her to read and respond to comment #267 under her fun/sexy/scenic paddleboarding shot about an early season World Cup race in Austria.

You’re either confused about how Facebook works, or you might be doing Facebook as well as it’s ever been done.

B. Whip (whose avatar depicts an elderly man with a blue shirt featuring the word Colorado and the image of a dope ’80s skier) is out here doing The Lord’s work as far as skiing fans are concerned by pressing Julia for her season plans in August.

And he didn’t do it in a standalone post under her paddling photo. He didn’t shoot a message to Julia’s fan page. B-Radford decided to take a thread that wasn’t heading in a direction he cared about (read: anywhere but Soelden), hijacked that shit like DB Cooper and put Super Jules on the fucking spot about her comp schedule.

Will he ever get an answer? Was Bradford Whipple shouting into a void deeper than the strangest reaches of space, his thoughtful query destined to do little more than hurtle us 40 keystrokes closer to entropy?

Bradford doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about Tahoe’s azure waters, fine behinds or blondes having more fun than anyone else. So let me try to amplify his inquiry with the modest platform I’m allotted here.

Julia, will you compete in Soelden in October?

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