My name is Ronnie O’Sullivan and if you study with my eight-week program you will learn a system of playing snooker that I developed over two seasons of fighting in pubs in Cork. It’s called O’Sullivan Kwon Do! After one week with me in my eight-week program, you’ll be prepared to play snooker with the strength of a grizzly, the reflexes of a puma, and the wisdom of a man.
Way out West there was this fella — fella I wanna tell ya about. Fella by the name of Shia. At least that was the handle his loving parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. Shia, he called himself Shia. Now, Shia— he didn’t make a whole lot of sense. And a lot about where he lived, likewise.
But then again, maybe that’s why I found the place so darned interestin’. They call Los Angeles The City of Angels. I didn’t find it to be that, exactly. But I’ll allow there are some nice folks there. ‘Course I can’t say I’ve seen London, and I ain’t never been to France. And I ain’t never seen no queen in her damned undies, so the feller says. But I’ll tell you what — after seeing Los Angeles, and this here story I’m about to unfold, well, I guess I seen somethin’ every bit as stupefyin’ as you’d see in any of them other places. And mostly in English, too. So I can die with a smile on my face, without feelin’ like the good Lord gypped me.
Sometimes there’s a man — I won’t say a hero, ’cause, what’s a hero? But sometimes, there’s a man. And I’m talkin’ about Shia. Sometimes, there’s a man, well, he’s the man for his time and place. He fits right in there. And that’s Shia, in Los Angeles. And even if he is a lazy man — and the Shia was most certainly that. Quite possibly the most lazy man in South Korea, which would place it high in the runnin’ for being laziest worldwide. But sometimes there’s a man, sometimes, there’s a man. Aw. I lost my train of thought here. But — aw, hell; I’ve done introduced him enough.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKvoJdp3iRs
Way out West there was this fella — fella I wanna tell ya about. Fella by the name of the Dude. At least that was the handle his loving parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. The Dude, he called himself the Dude. Now, the Dude — he didn’t make a whole lot of sense. And a lot about where he lived, likewise.
Far beyond the Crazy World of Arthur Brown, we have the Slow Mo Guys. From what I can tell, their entire job revolves around breaking, blowing up, eating, puking, stabbing, slashing, shooting, and eviscerating random objects and filming it with a slow-motion camera. If I could give them some sort of award for awesomeness, I would, but they already have my dream job, so the only thing I’ll give them is my burning jealousy.