Elegy for Ben Shapiro
Hold this L my brother
Today, we celebrate. It is a joyous day. Recipients of this newsletter were automatically converted into Warriors fans the day they put down their email addresses. So I just want to say congratulations, fam. We did it. And they couldn’t have done it without you, the Low Lift Ask subscriber base.
It’s a tough look, for all of us signed up here, being Indian guys in tech that follow the Warriors. But we do this out of genuine passion—I know we all stayed up until 1 a.m. EST to watch a regular season game against the Hornets in February. We all did that, and this how we get handsomely rewarded. Nothing tastes sweeter than our guys getting paid and KD high as hell on Twitter the next few days. And a Drake album to top it all off? Indian dudes stay winning!!!
Would it surprise you to find out that the man pictured below is a Celtics fan, despite being born and raised in LA, and then going to UCLA, after which he published a column on the World Wide Web saying he was proud of being a huge virgin?
It doesn’t surprise me! One can only imagine—and it doesn’t take much imagination—why a man born in the 80s would choose to root for Larry Bird and the Celtics over his objectively cooler hometown team. I would love to cook this man in a pickup game. Imagine me Eurostepping my way to an uncontested layup, breezing my way past Ben Shapiro’s undersized outstretched arms, in the Aime Leon Dore Sonny League dripped out in $85 basketball shorts.
Some of the corniest people in the world are Celtics fans. There are some cool ones, sure, like my Hollywood Handbook boys. But the vast majority are mid as fuck, and it takes a fanbase whose spectators can only afford to go to games now if they have a family friend who owns Palo Alto Networks to see that truth. That’s us, and that’s so freaking cool.
I’m so juiced right now. I don’t even have a point to this newsletter. Catch me in two weeks. Poole Party’s all summer.
Huh? What does any of this mean?