In the tradition of George Jones, the Palins, and all those people J.D. Vance wrote about, Lauren Boebert—the Trump-loving, gun-packing firebrand from western Colorado—and her husband, Jayson, can get a little too rowdy on the home front. According to the Denver Post, the Boebert family allegedly has a track record of intimidating neighbors in their hometown (Silt, in Garfield County) with reckless driving, property damage, threats, and noise.
Most recently, on August 4, a rattled caller told a 911 dispatcher that one of the Boeberts’ sons was upsetting domestic tranquility by “speeding up and down their street in a dune buggy.”
“He’s going like 50 miles an hour and this is a residential lane, there’s kids,” the caller said. “We tried to stop him and he’d just freakin’ cuss at us and just left.”
According to the Post, by the time a second neighbor called 911, deputies hadn’t yet arrived, but Jayson had sprung into action and “began to run the second neighbor’s mailbox over in a truck.”
“There’s about to be some shit going down here,” this neighbor told dispatchers. “It’s Lauren Boebert’s jackass husband, Jayson Boebert.”
Whew! That’s a lot, and it makes me think that we’d be better off if people with this much negative energy had a constructive way to channel it. Perhaps through sports.
Fortunately, we do. The epic event described below consists of ten separate and exhausting tests of human performance. Here, for the first time, are the rules and scoring system for a decathlon that captures the spirit of our age.
Abusive Shouting for Distance and Accuracy
Reading from a curated list of insults frequently hurled at neighborhood foes—“All y’all can kiss my ass!”, “You want some of this, motherfucker?!”—contestants will be judged on whether their lacerating screams, measured at 50-yard intervals, register on a recording device, wake up a sleeping grandma in a rocking chair, or cause a tethered pit bull to start barking. (Points awarded based on decibel levels and insult clarity at each checkpoint.)
ATV Hatchet Throw
Five hatchets per contestant; all tosses must be executed at 40 miles per hour or more. Helmets not allowed unless they double as beer-delivery systems. (Ten points for damaging mailboxes and stop signs; 20 points for knocking out exterior home lighting; 200 points for automotive glass; 1,000 points for police car beacon lights.)
Declutter the Landscape
Using a 16-inch gas-powered chainsaw and an angle grinder fitted with a diamond grit cutting wheel, your assignment is to make the world a little flatter. (Fruit trees and crabapples, 25 points; mature deciduous trees and conifers, 100 points; wooden utility poles, 200 points; industrial-grade light and power pillars, 500 points. Not recommended for felling: redwoods, wind turbine towers.)
Where No Musher Has Gone Before
Fifty points awarded for each documented instance of driving a snow machine on a substance that isn’t snow. Past attempts have included lake, river, and ocean water; mud, beach volleyball sand, and wet concrete; the wood-planked floor of a Portland brew pub; a bed of pig-roasting coals at a Hawaiian luau; baseball fan entrance ramp at Citi Field in Queens, New York; and a department store escalator full of excited bargain shoppers.
How many frisky pets can you “hydrate” with your Stream Machine water cannon? (Ten points for cats, 20 points for dogs, 250 points for large, angry dogs that are able to jump fences.)
Wearing only cutoffs, can you and your partner argue passionately enough in your front yard, trailer slab, or motel parking lot to attract coverage by a local TV news team? (250 points.)
Cautionary note for beginners in this famously burly event: check to make sure that the standing, sleeping elk you intend to tip over is 1) actually asleep, and 2) not a moose or a bear. (Elk calves, 25 points; cows, 50 points; bulls, 100 points; moose or bear, 500 points plus a $1,000 emergency-room copay.)
Bring It On!
You’re blind drunk, and though you’re being a mindful citizen by walking home instead of driving on the sidewalk, you get hassled anyway. A cruiser pulls up, flashes its lights, and a cop rolls down a window to shout: “Where do you think you’re going, punk?” After you say “Go to hell,” your quest is to show how long—using a combination of agility, street smarts, strength, and sweaty skin—you can avoid being subdued with zip ties. (Points based on time and total bruise count.)
Hmmm, smells like somebody in the nabe is making smoked brisket. Negotiating a winding course that features a maze of derelict cars, the slippery roof of an assisted care facility (full of nervous patients with bedside emergency buttons), and a sewage lagoon, your goal is to steal this beefy treasure and bring it home fast. (500 points; 750 if you do it while squinting and clutching a Marlboro in your lips.)
Liquor Store Steeplechase
Our marquee event, conducted as always with generous help from these fine sponsors: the Devil’s Dew™ family of beer, wine, and spirits mini-marts; Don’t Come Back™ chain-link fencing; and WetButt™ above-ground pools.
At participating Devil’s Dew locations, contestants will shoplift all they can hold of the following items: beer (in cases), vodka (1.75-liter handles), cigarettes (cartons), meat sticks (all lengths), and Fireball minis. Winner is chosen using a combination of total weight carried and time required to flee the premises, climb a fence, and swim across a portable pool. (1,000 points. Lifetime entry fee exemption for anyone who beats Jayson Boebert’s personal best: 187 pounds.)
Thanks to Jim Beaugez for contributions to this article.