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Category: parkour

Closing All the Circuses: The Dark Side

Closing All the Circuses: The Dark Side

What a shame. Once they closed down Ringling Brothers, and Beatty-Cole, The Big Apple, and that sketchy carnival from the strip mall with the consumptive lion with dental problems, there was nothing for these stalwart lads to do except ride public transportation and annoy pedestrians retail, instead of boring them wholesale in a tent, as God and man intended. And with this much free time on their hands, and no place to show off their unique “running faster than persons who aren’t running” abilities, they’re all sure to find themselves at the absolute rock bottom of male humanity: sporting man-buns. I say bring back the circuses, and close the free-range-vegan-artisinal-candy-hookah-latte bar. The weirdo quotient is the same, but at least the circus leaves town once in a while.

Hey, Remember When Parkour Was a Thing?

Hey, Remember When Parkour Was a Thing?

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.

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We Can Rebuild Him — We Have The Technology

We Can Rebuild Him — We Have The Technology

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.

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