This is it. This is the final straw. I woke up this morning to news that Stephen Ross — CEO of the company that owns SoulCycle and Equinox — will be hosting a huge fundraiser for the re-election of Donald Trump.
What am I going to do about it? I’m protesting everything, starting with SoulCycle and Equinox.
I know, it’ll be hard. As someone who has never been to either of those establishments, I cannot even begin to fathom what I will be missing out on. I mean, Wikipedia describes Equinox as a “luxury fitness company.” The location in Palo Alto even has 4.8 stars on Facebook.
“Nice stretchchchch after a long day with both boys sick!” reads a review from local resident Masha Zhdanovich.
Now, I’m sure all parents with sick boys will call me crazy or irrational for taking a stand, but here’s the thing: I could be sitting on the same exact stationary bike that Trump once laid his sweaty cheeks upon. There’s no way of knowing, and the thought of that alone makes my insides squirm.
In fact, to ensure I’m doing my due diligence, I’m boycotting gyms altogether.
That’s right. Like a Catholic middle schooler who says he’s giving up school for Lent, I am protesting fitness establishments everywhere. No more Planet Fitness. No more Equinox. No more Arrillaga Center for Sports and Recreation. No more Pokémon gyms. I’m done.
It’ll be a huge sacrifice. Anyone who’s seen me in real life knows that I visit the gym religiously. (You’ve definitely seen me at Nearrillaga before.) But I’m serious; I even called my mom to make sure she throws away my 5-pound dumbbells at home.
And you know what? I’m taking it one step further. To drive the message home to Mr. Ross, I’m protesting everything having to do with his wretched surname.
Yeah, that’s right. You won’t catch me vacationing in the former Scottish earldom of Ross. The discount department stores operating under Ross Dress for Less? No chance. My posters of Disney Channel star Ross Lynch? Torn to shreds. Not even David Schwimmer is safe; no wonder why “Friends” is leaving Netflix. In fact, I’m even done with the American flag. There’s no way you can convince me that Stephen Ross isn’t the great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandchild of Betsy Ross.
To put it simply, I will not rest until every person at Stanford recognizes the blood on their hands for indulging in frivolous, tangential-at-best connections with Stephen Ross.
Okay, but just so we’re clear … I draw the line at Rick Ross.
Editor’s Note: This article is purely satirical and fictitious. All attributions in this article are not genuine and this story should be read in the context of pure entertainment only.
Contact Patrick Monreal at pmonreal ‘at’ stanford.edu.