Periodically we at Lolabrigada will take a look at people/places/things who are, in our spoiled minds, legendary. Feel free to add to or dispute the legendary status we have branded on this person/place/thing.
With news of the recent Shaq trade, the Onion decided to do what they do best and write an amusing article about Shaq’s newfound love, “Supernovas.”
Shaq Terrified Of Phoenix Suns After Reading About Supernovas …… Claiming he was initially excited at the prospect of playing for a legitimate championship contender, new Phoenix Suns center Shaquille O’Neal admitted Monday that, upon reading about the phenomenon of massive stellar explosions popularly known as supernovas, he is now terrified of the entire organization.
Space, pretty neat, huh? It’s all around us.
No, Z. Jackson, it’s not. Which is what makes it “legendary.”
See, on a daily basis most of us are fighting for space. Most of us schlubs who ride the train in the morning have to deal with the pushy personalities of morning commuters. The sweaty hands that hang on our backsides. The warm, morning tuna breathes of strangers who should remain, strange. We fight for space daily. New York City, the anti-Mars (?really, Tom?).
This fight for space can really get ugly. Take this recent example…
Last week I was strolling on my merry way to work. Pushing through the morning rush. I was about to head down the subway stairs to catch the A Train uptown when some big bully with a leather coat and goatee, and amusingly giant earphones(!), decided to give me the old elbow on his way up the stairs. Something in me just snapped. I was going to stand-up for all those who are sick and tired of being shoved, bumped, and grinded upon. Here’s what transpired.
I stopped midway down the stairs and stared down this bro with my baby greens. He must of felt it, because he took about five more paces and then stopped in his tracks and turned around. Whut-oh! He took off his giant earphones and walked towards me. Then, we shared this intimate/awkward exchange:
Space Invader: Is there a problem?
Me: Do you know me? (really? fuck!)
Space Invader: No. Do you know me?
Then he turned around and walked away as I laughed at him.
It’s cute, because I knew what I was going for. What I meant to say was, “Do you know who I am?” That usually seems to work and is typically more effective. The whole, “do you know me” crap that I pulled was useless. It just seemed like a kind gesture. Like, “hey, you look familiar. Do you know me?” Tough guy alert!
So, I tried. And as I failed so miserably, I urge you, friends, to do your part. Step up! Don’t make the same mistake I did. Act, before you think.