What your view of sports and life would be if you had too many concussions
I’ve got to admit, at first glance this seems to be an odd choice for this series. The whole point behind Signs We Are Near The End Of Civilization is while the Bible talks about Armageddon, you can still believe what you will. After all, this is America. I’m here to present this series demonstrating the case that bit by bit, we are screwing up our lives every day. That’s why this story doesn’t really seem to fit the mold. Going in, its equal parts awesome and hilarious. But by the time we get to the end, it fits this series better than a tailored suit.
Let me show you how.
This all starts with a guy named Connor Toole. According to his bio, he’s a tall guy who writes for a humor site.
Connor Toole is Elite Daily’s Senior Humor Writer and resident giant, standing at 6’ 10.” He graduated from Boston College, where he majored in something he immediately regretted. His interests include Mark Ruffalo.
Surprisingly enough, the fact that makes this story just another paving stone on the road to Armageddon has nothing to do with my disdain for Boston College. Nor does it relate to that odd Mark Ruffalo comment (I know, that would have been my prime suspect as well). This all revolves around Toole’s impersonating an NBA Draft pick.
Let’s start with Toole’s set up:
Every year, millions of people tune into the NBA Draft to see which highly-touted players the league’s most pathetic teams will recruit in the hopes of turning their franchises around, and it’s inevitable everyone will laugh at the Knicks for going with the worst options.
Off the jump, I can tell I like Toole’s style. I don’t even know what he’s going to do, but the fact he’s already foreshadowing the Knicks/Kristaps Porzingis situation means he knows basketball…or the futility-fest known as the Knicks at the very least. As I’m reading this story, I’m hoping this tales somehow involves pissing off that “Crying Selfie Knicks Fan Kid.” Besides…you know that little bastard has probably been “memed” about eleventy bajillion times by now.
But, I digress. Toole’s towering stature allowed him to see a much higher goal than piling on this cry-baby punk kid.
Last night, some of the best young basketball players in the country gathered at Barclays Center in Brooklyn, hoping to hear NBA Commissioner Adam Silver say their names and invite them to the stage for handshakes, snapback hats and lives that will never be the same.
I’m almost 7 feet tall, I have an ill-fitting suit and a beard I don’t trim enough, so I figured I’d fit right in with the players nervously awaiting their fates. To test this theory, I braved the 15-minute walk from my apartment to the arena to see if I could convince people I was part of this class of untapped potential.
The Utah Jazz may not have actually used their second-round pick to take me 42nd in the draft, but that’s the lie I told as many people as possible in New York City last night. I think some of them even believed me.
There you have it. Not only is this an awesome idea, the video showed that Toole pulled it off masterfully.
After watching that, you’ve got to be asking what problem could I possibly have with this. I said he pulled it off “masterfully,” not flawlessly.
Connor Toole…the bottom line here is you aimed too low.
Believe me, brother…I was with you all the way while I was watching that video. You were living the dream; you were the center of attention, you didn’t have to buy a drink all night, and everybody wanted to get a piece of you. The problem comes from the “pieces” you were trying to get.
While I’m watching you wash down the free drinks, I’m also thinking it’s just a matter of time before you get interested in exploring the possibilities in female companionship provided by your new-found, albeit ersatz status. So at the 2:12 mark, you make the move. You approach this woman, and you succeed in getting the digits, as it were.
Here’s the problem.
Granted, she’s not ugly. And to be fair, thanks to the miracle of editing, I don’t really know how many drinks you’ve downed by this point. As boorish as it may be to say, the fact is this girl is a bit too “girl next door-ish” for a guy wearing the promise of a serious six-figure income.
Face it, Connor…rich guys get access to women usually not interested in bloggers like us.
Case in point: I have a friend who is a lawyer. All through his life, he was a fat, dumpy guy who couldn’t get laid in a women’s prison even if he had a fistful of pardons. The minute he got a law degree, he married a woman with the most amazing set of non-sculpted tits I’d ever seen. An NBA rookie in 2015 will command a minimum salary of $525,000 per year. When you stop to consider that a doctor fresh out of school can expect to pull down $175,000 a year and the median salary for a new lawyer is right around $100,000, the picture gets pretty clear pretty quick. Again, that woman isn’t bad looking, but you are pulling up for the easy jumper when you really should be taking it strong to the basket.
Speaking of well-endowed women, that blond has nothing to worry about when it comes to upper-body pride. However, she has that “hot librarian” look which means she might be attracted to talented writers such as ourselves anyway. I’d collect her digits myself, but you’re the guy who got one night’s access to VIP Parking. I’m still counting the change in my cupholder.
Many basketball fans under the age of 30 don’t know that before 1979, the Utah Jazz called New Orleans home. I don’t know if this girl knows that or not, but she’s clearly “earning her beads.” She’s no “librarian,” but she is surely “open for business.”
She’s hot, and she’s ready to go, but so is the guy wearing your hat. He is obviously her boyfriend, and when you couple that with the fact he’s “all-in” on a picture like this means you could easily hook up with her…but he’s part of the deal. The best case scenario is he just wants to get his kicks off watching his girlfriend take her turn on the NBA hardwood; the worst is he wants to make this a “three-man weave” (if you know what I mean, and I think you do...)
Now, here’s where I know you get the concept. I can’t tell what this woman looks like, but she obviously appeals to you considering the fact you are attempting to swallow her face. I would also be curious as to the exact location of your left hand at this moment.
That notwithstanding, since we really can’t tell where this woman would rate on the “food chain” as it were, we can’t be sure if you taking full advantage here of your aforementioned “VIP Access.” An NBA rookie on draft night should be able to attract a never-ending supply of “hot” women. Not “cute” women, not “OK” women…I’m talking about the kind of women who within two seconds give you a zipper-exploding case of the “trouser wowsers”…the kind of women who wouldn’t normally look twice at a blogger.
And you should be knee-deep in them.
You could have given all of us keyboard jockeys something through which we could live vicariously. Even for the most fleeting of moments, we could have all lived in a world of riches and swimsuit models had you aimed a bit higher.
Mr. Toole, if I were to compare what you did to a real basketball game, you managed to put the ball in your hands with your team down by 1 and the clock showing 00:01. But as the clock struck 00:00, your shot struck the rim only to careen into the realm of “what might have been.” America is a little bit worse of a place today because you didn’t take this to its full potential, and because this was a one-shot deal, nobody else will ever be able to take it.
However, I still applaud your efforts because you still created your own shot and had the guts to take it. For that, you still have earned the heartiest tip of my cap.
Just not a Utah Jazz cap. I’m a Lakers fan.
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