LeBron James is finally picking up on the metafictional truth that there is no reliable narrator.Via Twitter this morning:
O, Truth: LeBron holds up a lone daffodil, and stands up on yon craggy peak overlooking the valley wondering where thou hast gone. Should you look hard enough, you'll see him dab a single tear from his cheek with a hundred dollar silk handkerchief embroidered with a LeBron James King Logo. He's weeping for lost innocence, and the days when truth existed.
Namely, he's longing for 2006, when promiscuous girls teased him on dance floors, your mom was very excited about this new shoe called a "Croc," and the truth existed. Truth like this, for instance:
It’s also important to me to make the team I’m on now the best. I don’t want to go ring-chasing, as I call it; you know, going to a team that’s already pretty established and trying to win a ring with them. I want to stay with the Cavs and build a champion. And I feel like we’re on our way.
Oh, for a reliable source like that now. As LeBron was telling you, there are no dependable narrators, which is why you let him walk right out of the police station without realizing that HE WAS KEYSER SOZE ALL ALONG. Bosh and Wade were merely pawns in his grand game, Detective.