ok fine, here is a Text Transcript:
upon making my way to the entrance of sunset beach, i find myself becoming more curious toward the sites of construction and empty kiosks scattered about the plaza. i find barttle mcboo-beyes, red and salty from the day's sun baked labor, resting easy on a pile of cement blocks and staring off into middle distance. i approach and inquire about the dislocated metal beams surrounding us.
he arches up, seeming slightly annoyed, and explains, "oh, this here's the annual battle of the beach festival. you know, they got all sorts a physical challenges and whatnot. some of em are pretty difficult, one guy died of a heart attack last year right over there."
"it's run by volunteers, no one gets paid or anything. heheh, i line up for this gig everyear cos they got them a yoga competition as well, right there on the beach. brother, imagine it heheh...500 fit women in yoga pants up there on the beach, bending every which way you could imagine. hoooey, and i always gets a front row seat from behind!"
i thank him for the information and politely exit stage right, leaving barttle mcboo-beyes to his wringing hands and salivating jowels.