Chewing Karl Fischer’s Chocolate*
Yesterday I had an epiphany. I was walking along Driggs Avenue and stopped to look at Karl Fischer Row. Then it hit me: that building looks like R2-D2. I am not talking about the building with the Son of Samesque symbol on it. I am talking about its neighbor: the one that looks like a trash compactor.
Intrigued, I went in for a closer look. That’s when I found this Adonis basking in the glory that is living in a “young”, “hip” and —let us not forget “ARTSY” neighborhood.
What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! In form and moving, how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension, HOW LIKE A GOD.
After laughing my ass off, I looked up.
Stormtrooper: Let me see your identification.
Miss Heather: (with a small wave of my hand) You don’t need to see her identification.
Stormtrooper: We don’t need to see her identification.
Miss Heather: These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.
Stormtrooper: These aren’t the droids we’re looking for.
Miss Heather: She can go about her business.
Stormtrooper: You can go about your business.
Miss Heather: Move along.
Stormtrooper: Move along… move along.
Miss Heather: Oh yeah, put a goddamn shirt on already!
Stormtrooper: (to McCarren Park Adonis) PUT A GODDAMN SHIRT ON ALREADY!
Don’t let the slick advertisements fool you. The above chap is the clientele base for these condos, not attractive 20-somethings. About 20 feet away from this sexy beast was another hexagenarian chap doing Tai Chi or some other kind of Karate Kid shit. Mercifully, he elected to wear a shirt. THANK GOD.
*This is a Butthole Surfers reference. Anyone know what it is?