Ok, Lyft. Time’s up. Pack up your pink mustaches and drive straight into the Charles River because now you’re just insulting my intelligence. You throw a fake ass wig on one of the most recognizable sports figures in Boston history with one of the most unique voices in sports and expect literally no one to know who he is. It’s fucking disrespectful that you would release this under the guise of improvisation, especially when the dude has done more for the city than the fucking puritans. You throw Helen Keller in the front seat and she’d be like “yo seriously, Lyft?” She’d have to write it, of course. Wait, could she write? Did God give her arthritis, too? Ease up on her, man. If she’s not sitting in a complimentary VIP table in heaven with God sending his disciples over like ‘hey sorry about that life thing, the next round’s on us,’ then I’m not sure heaven is a place I wanna be.
P.S. If Lyft’s business model is encouraging passengers to sit in the front seat, I’ll walk it out thanks. I’ve said more words to the police before my lawyer shows up than I have the sum of all my Uber drivers. I’m not here to make a friend. I’m here to pound tall boys in your back seat and leave the empties in your car and make sure you’re not taking me the long way. Don’t make me go full Hellen Keller and pretend I can’t hear you.