Monday, June 16, 2008


Ok. I hate the Lakers. Their lack of geographic sense has eaten away at me forever. If you're going to move a team, it damn well better make sense (Utah Jazz anyone?). Add in the "L.A" factor (stars I don't care about - stubble doesn't make you look cool, you chaches), and you have a recipe for hate almost as strong as my feelings on Deion Sanders.

That said, I also dislike the Celtics. Their entire season this year, of inevitability, selling off their young talent for one shot at the finals (ok, when KG is available I get it, I'm just bitter the Bulls whiffed), reeks of desperation for an entire city. They are Hillary Clinton to me.

So, who do I root for. I hate Kobe Bryant (*cough* r-A-p-I-s-T *cough*), and that whiny baby Paul Pierce....about the only thing going for him is his slight avoidance of the full-on "whites of the eyes" look when complaining, perfected by King Sulky, the Virgin Islander Tim Duncan.
Enjoy the offseason Spurs, have fun playing shuffleboard and canasta (oh, and Sweet Jesus Ginobli, just shave it all off or get a hair transplant, you look like a Dark Ages Monk)! Damn you "gentlemen (except Horry, duh)" for derailing my Nawlins' finals fantasies!

And the final straw; she comes to me: if they don't start calling "moving picks" on Kevin Garnett with some sort of regularity I'm going to pull my hair out (beard first, then soulpatch, then head, ending with pubes = OW). Look, I understand the unsubtle finesse of an NBA game (non-call fouling, screwing the Mavs in the finals when you breathe on Dwayne Wade), and although I loathe to see traveling uncalled, I sorta get why they let it slide (just occasionally, because it usually enrages me).
That said, the very act of moving during a pick, you know the rule being that a pick setter MUST be stationary lest it be considerd a foul (BY DEFINITION), taints the game as just another subjective competition. Let's just decide whose dish is less salty (Go Chef Morimoto!). Either way I don't like the taste of these finals.

Ugh. Go Lakers. Now I need a shower. And I use parantheses too much.

Phone home Sam!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

The LaKers moved in 1960; get over it!