Why, it seems like only yesterday. The Intertunnel was awash with videos of scrawny, short-ish men who lost their shirt running around and bouncing off the walls out in the landscape. A more cynical man than myself might have equated parkour skills with simply running away from the cops, or ringing a doorbell and beating it. Hell, any circus in the sixties had ten of these guys getting out of a little car. But parkour was definitely seen as more than that by the Intertunnel. It was the Ferrari of clown cars, surely.
Well, it appears that parkour isn’t A THING anymore. I’m sure tens of tens of people are still falling unceremoniously off ledges, but the the concept has lost its pizzazz.
We have the capability to make the world’s first bionic man. Toby Segar will be that man. Better than he was before. Better, stronger, faster, but he’ll still be a ginger. I’m sorry, nothing can fix that. It’s genetics, there’s nothing we can do. Unless you want to dye your hair every five minutes, but that seems like way too much work. I think it would be much easier to follow through with the whole six-million-dollar man deal, and forget your debilitating gingerness. We can rebuild what’s broken, and make you better overall, but we can’t make you any less of a flaming ginger.
[Warning: Vaguely salty language.]
Some say it’s not the fall that kills you, it’s your mom finding out that you ruined your brand new pair of sneakers. It sort of ties in with the whole “are you wearing clean underwear?” routine. If anything ever happened to me and I wasn’t wearing clean underwear, I was in for a beating. I could by lying half lifeless in the gutter and my mother would probably yell at me about my dirty undies.
When they finally find me all mangled on the side of the road, everyone should be glad that I’m wearing anything other than my dirty undies.
I remember back when a college kid in comfortable shoes running over a couple trash bins could merit a few million Youtube hits. Unfortunately, modern audiences are much more discerning. These days to achieve equally ridiculous viewership the comfortable shoes must be abandoned for a skin tight, trademarked, body suit.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. There is still something decidedly engaging about watching Peter Parkour hurl himself off of a building for the umpteenth time, but — there will soon come a day when the spandex suit must also be abandoned. Time for something much more extreme, or dare I say it, more xtreme. I predict the rise of jet pack parkour, and the eventual demise of that in favor of robot dinosaur parkour.
The future’s so bright my spider-sense is tingling.