Dukes of Awesome

Marshawn Lynch appears to be in a bit of a pickle today because a Porsche registered in his name was involved in a hit-and-run over the weekend. It’s been all over the blogosphere, including the Big Lead, whose best line on the topic was “My initial reaction was – Buffalo has an entertainment district?” Hahah, heyo! He obviously hasn’t seen the Chippewa Strips three blocks of fun packed with more fine eye candy on a given night than he sees in a year (that’s, like 3 chicks. It’s because he’s a blogger, who lives in his mother’s basement! HAHA! HoHo! /tugs collar. In mother’s basement.)
Anyway, we Dukes and Dukettes of Awesome refuse to believe Marshawn Lynch could be at the wheel of the Porsche. While we’re thankful the woman hit is OK, we still want to help Marshawn establish his alibi, and give Roger Goodell good reason to NOT suspend this budding young star.

Marshawn’s Alibis:

1. Marshawn wasn’t driving because he was at Jim’s Steakout getting his favorite sub: Jim’s Hot Bleu. The grease pit’s new valet service was simply parking his car, and the attendant freaked. What, your local drunk food joint doesn’t have valet? Come to Buffalo, man, it’s the jam.
2. Marshawn wasn’t driving – he was ghost ridin’.
3. There is no Applebee’s on Chippewa. Only a crappy-ass Friday’s. Riblets > Jack Daniel’s Chicken any day.
4. Marshawn was busy bein’ solid, baby. Ain’t nothin better than solid. (Meaning he’s a solid citizen, and cares for his mother. DON’T SUSPEND BEAST MODE, COMMISH!)
5. Okay, okay, Marshawn was in the car, but he wasn’t driving. He was in the backseat, with the three pieces of eye candy the Big Lead only dreams about, getting to, ah, know them. His buddy was driving. Not to blame anyone here, but have you ever tried to get to know someone in the backseat of a Porsche? Damn near impossible. So what this humble writer imagines is someone (and I’m not saying which one) involuntarily thrust out a leg, pushing the driver’s seat forward, in turn forcing the driver’s foot onto the gas pedal, which involuntarily launched the Porsche from zero to sixty in 3.4 seconds, creating a rip in the space time continuum which accidentally sucked the unfortunate woman into a vortex, which fortunately landed her at the foot of the hospital, with only minor scrapes, but also led her to believe she might have been hit by the car, but really, it was the vortex.

Yeah, that’s it.

***EDIT*** Okay, so it was an SUV. So zero-to-60 comes in 5.8. So it was a tornado, not a vortex. Still, it’s Dorothy’s fault, not Marshawn’s.