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Danny Pudi also said “socks” and Larry King was not having it. Makes me think Danny would be cool to meet and Larry not at all.
I met Danny at my local coffee shop. I am a total ass and said "Abed?". He said " Danny. " and shook my hand. Thus confirming my status as Total Ass, and his as a mensch.
To be fair, Abed would say "Abed" if he met the actor that played himself...
I'd rather not meet Larry right now. I imagine it would be yucky and frightening and then eventually boring with a side of PTSD.
I would also not want to meet Larry now either.
Considering the fact that he died in 2021 and Hillside Memorial Park Cemetery is probably not the most fun place to visit haha
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Of the two I'd easily meet Danny Pudi! Always heard he's a class act and super humble to be around.
That and the fact that Larry King died in 2021 and randomly hanging at the Hillside Cemetery may not be the vibe haha
You cannot meet Larry anymore though, not in this life.
Not with that attitude.
All you need is the right attitude... and a shovel.
I'd imagine it would mostly be a one-sided conversation with Larry if you met him today. Unless you happen to be schizophrenic.
In fairness, "socks" is a pretty lame attempt at a joke answer.
Socks as an answer makes me think of “Ode to my Socks” by Pablo Neruda:
Maru Mori brought me a pair of socks which she knitted herself with her sheepherder’s hands, two socks as soft as rabbits. I slipped my feet into them as though into two cases knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin. Violent socks, my feet were two fish made of wool, two long sharks sea-blue, shot through by one golden thread, two immense blackbirds, two cannons: my feet were honored in this way by these heavenly socks. They were so handsome for the first time my feet seemed to me unacceptable like two decrepit firemen, firemen unworthy of that woven fire, of those glowing socks.
Nevertheless I resisted the sharp temptation to save them somewhere as schoolboys keep fireflies, as learned men collect sacred texts, I resisted the mad impulse to put them into a golden cage and each day give them birdseed and pieces of pink melon. Like explorers in the jungle who hand over the very rare green deer to the spit and eat it with remorse, I stretched out my feet and pulled on the magnificent socks and then my shoes.
The moral of my ode is this: beauty is twice beauty and what is good is doubly good when it is a matter of two socks made of wool