Yo, sorry I haven't been posting often lately, but I've been down in the dumps because my Suns aren't in the NBA playoffs this year. That's what you get when you have a white point guard, I guess. Plus my schedule is hectic lately, what with my being handcuffed to Ben Stein and all. I shoulda read the fine print on the Comcast contract more closely, cuz it turns out that me and Ben gotta be stuck together for the next 12 months. Turns out even NBA legends and crazy supply-side economists can get screwed by Comcast. At first I wasn't too concerned with the arrangement, since I saw that Ben Stein dude on Ferris Bueller's Day Off, which is one of my favorite movies (that I haven't starred in). I like the part when he says "Bueller" a bunch of times but Bueller totes isn't there, and his sister is in the principal's office and she's like totes dirty dancing. Plus Ben Stein was also Kevin Arnold's favorite teacher in The Wonder Years before they killed him off. But most of all I like Ben Stein for his endorsement of Visine, which is a product that almost every member of the Portland Trailblazers uses.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Super Bowl XLIIILOL
Say y'all heard of the National Football League's championship game? And shoes? Well, turns out that the Arizona Cardinals and the Pittsburgh Steelers played in the Super Bowl the other day. Faithful readers of this here blog will recall that I love me some New Orleans Saints, but as they didn't even make the playoffs I had to adopt the Cardinals as my team since they too have a religious mascot (this is the reason why my favorite NHL team is the Toronto Maple Popes). Unfortunately my team lost as San Antonio Holmes made an amazing touchdown catch in the waning seconds of the game. That was the second best catch I have ever seen in a Super Bowl (first place of course belongs to David Tyree's helmet).
What most people don't realize is that Holmes' Super Bowl-winning catch wasn't even his most notable reception of this season. I'm sure most of y'all have heard of that reporter dude in the Iraq who done threw his shoes at our Presdident Bush in December. Being that the reporter was Muslamic, the shoes almost certainly contained explosives of some sort, probably TNT hidden in the sole. Or at least some kind of biological or chemical agent, like maybe the aglets were laced with cyanide (was that a pun?!? sorry). It goes without saying, but needs to be typed, that had the shoe hit Dubbs we'd be looking at another 9/11 type situation. In the Arab world, hitting someone with a shoe is the ultimate insult (worse than flying a plane at someone). This may be hard for us Westerners to fathom, as having shoes thrown at you is considered high praise over here. Oh well. What're you gonna do about the crazy cultural norms of those inscrutable Arabs? Here is a story:
The Muslim reporter took his place at the press conference, attempting to maintain composure as he listened to the inane ramblings of the American president. Though he appeared calm, in his Muslim soul a toxic mixture of resentment, inarticulate rage, and desire for vengeance simmered, gaining steam with every flippant platitude offered and simpering smirk cast by the President. He Islamically wondered to himself, "How can this man be so utterly devoid of remorse? Is he that callous? Or just oblivious? Surely he cannot be so evil?"
Soon his thoughts turned to his fellow journalists. Being Arab, he first looked to his right, then his left. In his Islamic peers' eyes he could discern no spark of critical thought, no twinkle of engagement with the noxious ideas emanating from the President's mouth. Had years of violence inured them to the atrocities committed daily at the President's behest? Had their instinct for self-preservation made them incapable of exhibiting the courage required to overthrow the status quo and move towards justice? Had their tightly-wound head towels restricted blood flow to their Mohammedan brains, thereby overwhelming their ability to yearn for peace? Islam islam muslim arab?
Whatever the reason, the Islamical journalist knew that the President's nefarious designs would find no resistance from the benumbed zombies that surrounded him. The onus of confronting the POTUS would be his alone. Rarely, and as of late exceedingly so, history provides great challenges, perfect moments for a lone intrepid soul to commit heroic deeds and etch his (or her, but let's be realistic, it's usually his, right? Eh? Crickets?) name onto the cosmic Stanley Cup of eternity. This was the Mohammedan journalist's moment. Exactly why fair and noble History, in Her boundless grace and munificence, agreed to bless this Qurany Quaraner with such an opportunity may never be known, but aforementioned Islamic Quraning Muslamateer knew exactly what destiny required him to do. He did what every great hero since time immemorial has done: he took off his shoes.
With his Muslim heart full of fury (the fury too was probably of an Islamic variety), the Islamite reporter hurled his shoes, one after the other, towards the podium. Like two hijacked airplanes, the Muslim shoes charted a course directly for the President. Time slowed down. Impact seemed imminent. The waxwing of liberty and freedom was a hair's breadth from being slain by the false Islamic azure of the terrorist windowpane. The fate of Western civilization hung in the balance. What was the point of this story? Oh yeah, but then Santonio Claus came along out of nowhere and saved the day, America won the Superbowl, that Iraqi journalist dude was signed to be the New York Jets' new quarterback, the dish ran off with the spoon, and everyone lived happily ever after. Except for the fork, who was so distraught at the spoon's infidelity that she jumped off the kitchen counter. She was survived by a lovely three year old spork and a teenage carrot peeler from a previous marriage. This is why gays shouldn't be allowed to cook. QED.
If Jason David were involved this would've somehow led to WWIII
What most people don't realize is that Holmes' Super Bowl-winning catch wasn't even his most notable reception of this season. I'm sure most of y'all have heard of that reporter dude in the Iraq who done threw his shoes at our Presdident Bush in December. Being that the reporter was Muslamic, the shoes almost certainly contained explosives of some sort, probably TNT hidden in the sole. Or at least some kind of biological or chemical agent, like maybe the aglets were laced with cyanide (was that a pun?!? sorry). It goes without saying, but needs to be typed, that had the shoe hit Dubbs we'd be looking at another 9/11 type situation. In the Arab world, hitting someone with a shoe is the ultimate insult (worse than flying a plane at someone). This may be hard for us Westerners to fathom, as having shoes thrown at you is considered high praise over here. Oh well. What're you gonna do about the crazy cultural norms of those inscrutable Arabs? Here is a story:
The Muslim reporter took his place at the press conference, attempting to maintain composure as he listened to the inane ramblings of the American president. Though he appeared calm, in his Muslim soul a toxic mixture of resentment, inarticulate rage, and desire for vengeance simmered, gaining steam with every flippant platitude offered and simpering smirk cast by the President. He Islamically wondered to himself, "How can this man be so utterly devoid of remorse? Is he that callous? Or just oblivious? Surely he cannot be so evil?"
Soon his thoughts turned to his fellow journalists. Being Arab, he first looked to his right, then his left. In his Islamic peers' eyes he could discern no spark of critical thought, no twinkle of engagement with the noxious ideas emanating from the President's mouth. Had years of violence inured them to the atrocities committed daily at the President's behest? Had their instinct for self-preservation made them incapable of exhibiting the courage required to overthrow the status quo and move towards justice? Had their tightly-wound head towels restricted blood flow to their Mohammedan brains, thereby overwhelming their ability to yearn for peace? Islam islam muslim arab?
Whatever the reason, the Islamical journalist knew that the President's nefarious designs would find no resistance from the benumbed zombies that surrounded him. The onus of confronting the POTUS would be his alone. Rarely, and as of late exceedingly so, history provides great challenges, perfect moments for a lone intrepid soul to commit heroic deeds and etch his (or her, but let's be realistic, it's usually his, right? Eh? Crickets?) name onto the cosmic Stanley Cup of eternity. This was the Mohammedan journalist's moment. Exactly why fair and noble History, in Her boundless grace and munificence, agreed to bless this Qurany Quaraner with such an opportunity may never be known, but aforementioned Islamic Quraning Muslamateer knew exactly what destiny required him to do. He did what every great hero since time immemorial has done: he took off his shoes.
With his Muslim heart full of fury (the fury too was probably of an Islamic variety), the Islamite reporter hurled his shoes, one after the other, towards the podium. Like two hijacked airplanes, the Muslim shoes charted a course directly for the President. Time slowed down. Impact seemed imminent. The waxwing of liberty and freedom was a hair's breadth from being slain by the false Islamic azure of the terrorist windowpane. The fate of Western civilization hung in the balance. What was the point of this story? Oh yeah, but then Santonio Claus came along out of nowhere and saved the day, America won the Superbowl, that Iraqi journalist dude was signed to be the New York Jets' new quarterback, the dish ran off with the spoon, and everyone lived happily ever after. Except for the fork, who was so distraught at the spoon's infidelity that she jumped off the kitchen counter. She was survived by a lovely three year old spork and a teenage carrot peeler from a previous marriage. This is why gays shouldn't be allowed to cook. QED.
If Jason David were involved this would've somehow led to WWIII
Friday, January 23, 2009
TNT: We Know Obama
Say y'all heard of this thing called America??? That country got itself a new president this past Monday! The Suns were in Boston since we had a game against the Celtics that night, but thankfully Coach Porter didn't schedule practice that day so we were all able to watch the Inauguration. I usually get all my news from FOX news since they have my two favorite shows, Your Baby Can Read! and The O'Reilly Factory. However, since some of the players on the Suns are patriots while the others are pinheads, we couldn't watch any of the partisan networks, as such an arrangement would be most discommodious (thanks, Factor Word of the Day!) and pestiferous (look at me go!). We arrived at a compromise of watching the Inauguration festivities on TNT. I must say, the crew of Inside the NBA did a surprisingly good job:
Notice the lack of an American flag pin on his lapel...
DAVID STERN: With the first pick in the 2009 Presidential Draft, the United States of America selects (fumbles around with the envelope for a few seconds)... 6'1'' junior Senator from Illinois, Barack Hussein Obama!
ERNIE JOHNSON: Oh wow, what a shocker! Many experts thought that Obama made a mistake when he declared for the draft early.
CHARLES BARKLEY: I don't care what people think. People are stupid.
KENNY SMITH: Well, I for one didn't have him being drafted this early. I thought he should've gone back to the Senate for at least one more term to help hone his point guard skills.
CHARLES BARKLEY: That's wronger than ketchup on pancakes.
ERNIE JOHNSON: (ignoring Sir Charles) Many owners were also reluctant to draft him due to concerns that he would not be eligible to play immediately, as he was rumored to still be under contract with his Muslim Kenyan overlords.
KENNY SMITH: His strong showing at the pre-draft workouts probably made a lot of difference--
CHARLES BARKLEY: Where can a brother get a drink around here?
ERNIE JOHNSON: Well, um... Craig Sager is courtside with the new President. Let's go to Craig.
CRAIG SAGER: Thanks, Ernie. First of all, congratulations to you, President Obama. How do you feel on this historic occasion?
BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA: It's a dream come true. To be the first Harvard Law graduate to ever stand on that stage and shake Commissioner Stern's hand, it's pretty humbling.
CRAIG SAGER: The nation is still trying to recover from Isiah Thomas's disastrous signing of George W. Bush to an 8-year, $4 trillion contract. It may be years before we're finally under the salary cap. How do you assess your chances of leading America to a long-awaited championship?
BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA: I just want to get America back in the playoffs, were we belong.
CRAIG SAGER: Best of luck to you, Mr. President.
BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA: Shukran.
CRAIG SAGER: Que?
BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA: I mean thanks.
CRAIG SAGER: Oh, you're welcome.
BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA: Allahu akbar.
ERNIE JOHNSON: Great interview as always Craig. We now turn to--
CHARLES BARKLEY: I ain't never seen cranberry juice without vodka in it! Hey Craig, ask Obama if he's ever seen cranberry juice without vodka in it!
ERNIE JOHNSON: Sorry, Charles, I think the interview is already over.
CHARLES BARKLEY: Now why the hell would I know that?
KENNY SMITH: (trying to change the subject) President Obama has his work cut out for him. Diaper-wearing Senator David Vitter (R-LA) just voted against his Secretary of State nominee Hillary Clinton, Yao Ming has a sore right knee, and perhaps worst of all, the Portland Trailblazers have threatened to fillibuster the confirmation of Darius Miles, his choice for new Drug Czar.
CHARLES BARKLEY: Where can a brother get a car, preferably a black Infiniti SUV, around here?
ERNIE JOHNSON: Charles, have you been drinking?
CHARLES BARKLEY: Hey Craig, ask Osama iffy nose where a brother get a blow job rounddeer!
That's when Coach Porter made us turn the TV off.
Notice the lack of an American flag pin on his lapel...
DAVID STERN: With the first pick in the 2009 Presidential Draft, the United States of America selects (fumbles around with the envelope for a few seconds)... 6'1'' junior Senator from Illinois, Barack Hussein Obama!
ERNIE JOHNSON: Oh wow, what a shocker! Many experts thought that Obama made a mistake when he declared for the draft early.
CHARLES BARKLEY: I don't care what people think. People are stupid.
KENNY SMITH: Well, I for one didn't have him being drafted this early. I thought he should've gone back to the Senate for at least one more term to help hone his point guard skills.
CHARLES BARKLEY: That's wronger than ketchup on pancakes.
ERNIE JOHNSON: (ignoring Sir Charles) Many owners were also reluctant to draft him due to concerns that he would not be eligible to play immediately, as he was rumored to still be under contract with his Muslim Kenyan overlords.
KENNY SMITH: His strong showing at the pre-draft workouts probably made a lot of difference--
CHARLES BARKLEY: Where can a brother get a drink around here?
ERNIE JOHNSON: Well, um... Craig Sager is courtside with the new President. Let's go to Craig.
CRAIG SAGER: Thanks, Ernie. First of all, congratulations to you, President Obama. How do you feel on this historic occasion?
BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA: It's a dream come true. To be the first Harvard Law graduate to ever stand on that stage and shake Commissioner Stern's hand, it's pretty humbling.
CRAIG SAGER: The nation is still trying to recover from Isiah Thomas's disastrous signing of George W. Bush to an 8-year, $4 trillion contract. It may be years before we're finally under the salary cap. How do you assess your chances of leading America to a long-awaited championship?
BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA: I just want to get America back in the playoffs, were we belong.
CRAIG SAGER: Best of luck to you, Mr. President.
BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA: Shukran.
CRAIG SAGER: Que?
BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA: I mean thanks.
CRAIG SAGER: Oh, you're welcome.
BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA: Allahu akbar.
ERNIE JOHNSON: Great interview as always Craig. We now turn to--
CHARLES BARKLEY: I ain't never seen cranberry juice without vodka in it! Hey Craig, ask Obama if he's ever seen cranberry juice without vodka in it!
ERNIE JOHNSON: Sorry, Charles, I think the interview is already over.
CHARLES BARKLEY: Now why the hell would I know that?
KENNY SMITH: (trying to change the subject) President Obama has his work cut out for him. Diaper-wearing Senator David Vitter (R-LA) just voted against his Secretary of State nominee Hillary Clinton, Yao Ming has a sore right knee, and perhaps worst of all, the Portland Trailblazers have threatened to fillibuster the confirmation of Darius Miles, his choice for new Drug Czar.
CHARLES BARKLEY: Where can a brother get a car, preferably a black Infiniti SUV, around here?
ERNIE JOHNSON: Charles, have you been drinking?
CHARLES BARKLEY: Hey Craig, ask Osama iffy nose where a brother get a blow job rounddeer!
That's when Coach Porter made us turn the TV off.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Happy 2009
Say y'all heard of this thing called the Gregorian calendar? That's the calendar what Pope Gregory House bullied people into using back in Renaissance times, so now we be using that shit to remind us when to pay rent. But that ain't all, that dude's invention also informs us as to when one year ends and the next one begins. The day when this event occurs is known as "New Year's Day". That shit just happened again a little while ago. I was taken by surprise, as it seems like only a year ago I was snorting Nestle's Crunch off a stripper's thigh in honor of New Year's 2008. But anyway, what did y'all do to commemorate the arrival of 2009? I went to visit my alma mater in Baton Rouge, which is French for "red baton". There was a party at this dude's place where some idiots set up a homemade beer pong table that was painted blue with two Stars of David stenciled in, in honor of Hanukkah or the bombing of Gaza I suppose. All the people there were of normal stature so I towered over them, Gulliver to their Lilliputians, Goliath to their David, Manute Bol to their Spud Webb, neutron to their electron, etc etc etc. What I'm trying to say is that I am quite tall, much taller in fact than most people who do not make their living playing professional basketball. So anyway, me trying to throw a ping pong ball into a Solo cup is like a normal person trying to throw a peppercorn into a thimble, and if you really think about it why would anyone want to throw a peppercorn into a thimble, especially if you don't like peppercorn or are perhaps allergic to it, which I'm not, but what if you're cooking for a dinner party and one of the guests is? Then you have a lawsuit on your hands and a dead acquantaince on your floor. To get back to the point, I actually like pepper a lot and sprinkle it frequently on a variety of things, such as omelets, soups, chowders, pastas, Nestle's Crunch, Chattam's Icy-Hot pain relief sleeves, and of course, freedom fries. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, thimbles. Why aren't they called "thumbles"?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)