Wedding Video of the Week: Bass Drop!

New isht on the Bangin': due to my limitless quotient for cheesy, goofy, or genuinely good wedding videos, I think I am going to start featuring them each week. To debut, we go with a classic routine--the guest psych out. Personally, I'd go with a song involving Luther Campbell. Face down...

Cue Fatman Scoop:

Fun begins at...0:53


...1:30


...0:21

Dope

Just one thing, though: has Lil' Wayne jumped the shark yet? When? WHEN?!

Straight ESPN

Some in-the-know NBA bloggers and yours truly helped ESPN preview the upcoming season. Peep game.

Straight Gupta

Help-a-friend day continues on the Bangin':

I would like to recommend that everyone read this no-nonsense editorial primer about the health care plans offered by Barack Obama and John McCain. It was written (well) by my buddy, Dr. Raj Gupta. Gupta is many things, chief among them my personal physician and a consistently rational voice in the wilderness of Michigan sports. He is also a very smart man who has succinctly laid out the crucial elements at play as voters consider the future of health care in America. Good read.

Straight Darko

(This post best enjoyed while listening to the FreeDarko anthem.)

With the return of the Association tonight--!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!--and my season "preview" not anywhere close to ready (damn law school; check back this weekend), it seems only appropriate that I devote SB to FreeDarko today. It's no secret that I hold FD in the highest esteem. I am impressed by the original thinking and well-crafted writing that those dudes churn out every day. Think about that. They are innovators--as bloggers, as curators of culture, as arbiters of NBA zeitgeist.

I am thus proud and thrilled to present the the Macrophenomenal Website, a destination for all things FD, particularly the forthcoming book, FreeDarko Presents... The Macrophenomenal Pro Basketball Almanac. (Full disclosure: I get a shout in the acknowledgments. That has absolutely nothing to do with this post or my effusive praise.) I saw an electronic version of the book in one of its later iterations, and it is really a wonderful accomplishment. Loaded with gorgeous illustrations and the signature FD writing style, Macrophenomenal is a must-have for any real NBA fan. And for any fan of literary writing. Go to the book website and poke around. There are excerpts, widgets, bios, reviews, wallpapers, and even t-shirts (!).

Oh, and of course, BUY THE BOOK.

Happy New Year, everyone. The NBA is back. Rejoice!

- John Tesh, "Roundball Magic"

The Man...

....zapped my music post. Lame.

New Hotness from the Smartest Blogger on the Interwebs

Jay Smooth comes through. Again. As always.




So good.

Southeast Blogger Previews

   

Atlanta Hawks
Matt McHale: Basketbawful
Hoopinion: Peachtree Hoops

Charlotte Bobcats
BrettL: Queen City Hoops
Ziggy: BobcatsPlanet

Miami Heat
Darren Heitner: SportsAgentBlog.com
Gregory Broome: The Peninsula is Mightier

Orlando Magic
Ben: Third Quarter Collapse

Washington Wizards
Rashad: Hoops Addict
HoopsAvenue: HoopsAvenue
Mike Prada: Bullets Forever
Truth: Truth About It Dot Net
Also see links to all the previews at CelticsBlog.com

The Isiah Thomas Saga Takes a Sad Turn

On Friday, Isiah Thomas may or may not have been taken from his home for overdosing on sleep pills.

Today, it's getting ugly, with the Harrison, NY police department defending itself and questioning Thomas:

A suburban police chief likened the conflicting accounts of an accidental overdose at Isiah Thomas' home to a "cover-up" and rebuked the former New York Knicks coach Saturday for saying it was his teenage daughter who required treatment.

"It wasn't his daughter," Harrison Police Chief David Hall told The Associated Press. "And why they're throwing her under the bus is beyond my ability to understand."

"...My cops ... know the difference between a 47-year-old black male and a young black female," Hall said.

"These people should learn something from Richard Nixon -- it's not the crime, it's the cover-up

It would be easy to make a joke about Thomas and incompetence here, but this actually underlines something pretty sad. Thomas was horrible with the Knicks. That's been well documented, here and everywhere. But he also has been pretty horrible at everything else since retiring--the Pacers, the Raptors, commentary--and you can't help but wonder if this is the ugly culmination of a certain aimlessness that surely afflicts a lot of athletes whose lives mean something so much different once they can no longer play. Especially when nothing can adequately fill the void.

As a Knicks fan, I still resent Isiah. As a human, I feel bad for him.

NBA Roadtrip About to Roll Through

Stuntin' is a habit and dancing is a sport. Check out one of the new ESPN promo spots featuring my man, Cubes:

Northwest Blogger Previews

   

Denver Nuggets
Jeremy: Pickaxe and Roll 
Nick Sclafani: The Nugg Doctor

Minnesota Timberwolves
Derek Hanson & Staff: TWolves Blog 
Andrew Thell: Empty the Bench 
wyn: Canis Hoopus

Oklahoma City
xphoenix87: BallerBlogger 
Zorgon: Blue Blitz
Royce: The Thunderworld 

Portland Trail Blazers
Mookie: ...a stern warning 
Benjamin Golliver: Blazers Edge
Coup and SJ: Rip City Project
Utah Jazz
UtesFan89: The Utah Jazz
Basketball John: SLC Dunk

Also see links to all the previews at CelticsBlog.com

Bucket Blogging: Almost Famous in San Francisco

N.B: The following is a dispatch from erstwhile Straight Bangin' contributor the Buckets, my sister. She files this report from her new life in San Francisco. It's a little lengthy, but it's written quite well. I encourage everyone to give it some time and consideration.

Note that names and titles affixed with an "*" have been changed because the author would like to continue enjoying her life.

Also, you'll want to refer to this periodically.-- Joey.

In the beginning of May I had resigned myself to the fact that I was moving back to New York after I graduated from college. I’d get a job at a publishing company; I’d move to a new borough; it’d be fine.

Then on May 28 my thesis advisor (whom, for all intents and purposes, is my very own Lester Bangs in the way Phillip Seymour Hoffman played the legend, a reference which will make sense momentarily) emailed. He had arranged that if I wanted to, I could intern at my favorite magazine in San Francisco. So, after a little hesitation, I jumped head first into a new adventure on the West Coast. (That’s not really true. I went back to New York for a long summer first.)

Until September 3, the day I moved, I had only been west of the Mississippi one time--a short trip to Las Vegas. Anything I knew about California was based on something I’d seen on television or in a movie. I’d say the depiction of Southern California on this week’s Mad Men was very similar to how I pictured this region of the country. I had no way of anticipating back on May 28 that not only would I be working at my favorite magazine, but also my life was about to resemble that of William Miller’s, the protagonist of my favorite movie, Almost Famous.

About three weeks into my internship, one of the other employees at my job asked for a volunteer. Since I moved out to San Francisco knowing a total of about three people in the area, I have spent my first few months exclusively responding in the affirmative to any social or professional opportunities that come my way. After all, at the very least, each opportunity offers the promise of a couch to crash on should I ever become homeless. Thus, I quickly offered my services. Unbeknownst to me, I was offering to go to the home of my favorite living author for a day and assist his wife (another famous author in her own right) with the Obama fundraising she does arduously. And here you have my first step into the San Francisco literary scene: a morning of making name tags in the lovely, modest kitchen of Rivka Goldman* and David Cohen*.

I don’t think I will ever forget the way my hands instantly began shaking the moment my idol--my Russell Hammond--walked into the kitchen. I was drinking coffee from an Obama mug and shoving white slips of paper into protective plastic covers. He came into reheat some pasta before retreating into his office. I introduced myself. He introduced himself just as “David” and shook my hand. I fortunately did not respond with “Yeah, I know who you are, you father-of-4, MacDowell Colony-patron, Pulitzer Prize-winner, bestseller, you. I started tearing up when I learned I’d be going to your house.” Instead, we talked about how horrible Sarah Palin is--my meeting serendipitously aligned with the first leak of Palin’s interview with Katie Couric.

You know, this meeting would have been enough. My mom tells the story of how NBA coach extraordinaire Phil Jackson once asked her out on a date after she asked him to visit my sick uncle in the infirmary one summer at summer camp. (Knowing he was married, my mother declined. A principled woman back then as well!) Well I would have told the story of how I talked shit about the worst VP nominee in history with a Pulitzer Prize winner. Dayenu: this would have been enough!

However, this bright, warm September morning in Berkeley led to a scorching afternoon and then a typically cool evening at a swanky party in the Berkeley Hills--a $1,000-per-head fundraiser hosted by Alice Waters, Rivka, and David, among others. Again, unbeknownst to me, when I volunteered, I was also volunteering to attend this posh fundraiser at a Mediterranean-style mansion overlooking the San Francisco bay, catered by the Bay Area’s finest chef, replete with open bar and fancy wine. This event afforded me the opportunity to meet Amy Tan (she brought multiple small dogs along with her) and another Pulitzer winner, Alice Walker. It was surreal. More importantly, though, the event also allowed me to reenact one of the best scenes from Almost Famous.

In the movie, when William first meets Russell, Jeff, Ed, and Larry, it gives new meaning to the term incendiary:

“Russell, Jeff, Ed, Larry. I really love your band. I think the song ‘Fever Dog’ is a big step forward for you. And you guys producing it yourselves instead of Glyn Johns--that was the right thing to do. And Russell, Russell, the guitar sound...is incindiary. In-incendiary.”

Well, after I finished actually helping out at this magnificent fundraiser, I was milling about the party and I bumped into Reb. Cohen. Being an incredibly nice, warm, and gracious person, David stopped to chat with me. And at this point I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I have read all of his major work; I read as many of his essays as possible; I bought two of his books in hardcover because I simply couldn’t wait; I listened to his podcast on newyorker.com a few months ago; my literary partner in crime (hi, Mom) and I talk about him on a very regular basis; I even attended his book tour stop at the Harold Washing Library in Chicago, where I was one of few people under the age of 25 among a crowd of middle-aged Jewish women, all of whom were eyeing me as if I’d be perfect for their less literarily inclined but wonderful Jewish sons. I LOVE THIS MAN!

So I just had to go there, I had to get all incendiary on him. Thus, I told David:

"I’m sorry, I don’t know if this is appropriate or not, but I couldn’t not say anything. I love your work. I think about Pulitzer Prize-Winning Book* all the time, and the politics of Wildly Wonderful Subsequent Book* are profound. Sorry, I don’t mean to be uncouth but I had to say something.”

William Miller : incendiary :: Julie Buckets : profound

There wasn’t a Jeff Bebe to respond with “Don’t stop there man! I’m incendiary too man!” However, David, as I said, is incredibly nice, warm, and gracious, and thus his response was all of those things as well as cordial. We quickly moved on to discussing how delicious the plum galettes that were served for dessert were.

In the movie, after this moment, William steps into the arena via the back door with all of Stillwater, and thus, his ultimate fandom morphs into a healthy admiration for the band he is about to study and write about. Well my next step has not been quite as swift or poetic. However, I’d say if Penny Lane is the facilitator who enables William’s involvement with the rock and roll world he had previously admired from a distance, Rivka Goldman is my Penny. Except I don’t have to wait until a near-fatal overdose to find out her real name.

Since my first day in her house, Rivka has called on me multiple times to help out with fundraisers, and I have assented on most occasions. All celebrities aside, being in a new city with limited contacts has been made substantially less daunting when surrounded by so many vocal Obama supporters. Additionally, while I do not think my measly contribution of selling t-shirts and collecting donations at pricey events constitutes significant involvement in this inspiring, momentous, and necessary campaign, it certainly has been nice feeling some sort of connection. But okay, back to the celebrities.

As a result of my connection to Rivka, I have gotten to hear rising star and San Francisco mayor Gavin Newsom speak in an intimate fundraiser in someone’s backyard in Mill Valley, CA; the next time I saw him, I got to shake his hand and introduce myself. I have met Tobias Wolff and told him how I just copyedited a tribute to him. I was personally introduced to Isabel Allende. I met Amy Tan again. I met Ann Packer. I heard Tamim Asmary do a reading in someone’s living room. I heard Anne LaMott deliver a riotous speech about why we need Obama. I attended a function at the home of the daughter of one of Oracle’s co-founders. (12,000 square feet with bay AND city views in San Francisco’s posh Pacific Heights neighborhood.) I have seen that not all famous, successful authors are egotistical maniacs. I have seen that many famous and wealthy people are eager to use their name recognition and deep pockets to make the country better. I have seen that there is a way to have an intellectual life after college. I have gotten the opportunity to ponder the fact that maybe I want to be a writer myself, which, for some reason or another, has never really occurred to me before.

In putting faces to all of these huge names, my life has become somewhat surreal in a way that I am still trying to wrap my head around. Part of this has been the result of becoming a total sycophant; part of this has been luck; part of this has been years of reading finally paying off. I don’t know what it is. I have been bold here and I believe mighty forces have come to my aid. (By the way, Goethe did not say that.) Whatever it is, and whatever mighty forces are at work, I love the life (and people!) I am coming to know here. It is a weird thing seeing all of the author photos you’ve memorized from book jackets come alive. Moreover, it is especially weird for this confluence of fortuitous events to occur in my new city. Even though I moved to San Francisco from the perceived literary hub of the United States (and possibly the world, now that Virginia Woolf and E.M. Forster have left Bloomsbury just a legend of the past), the San Francisco I am coming to know is a place where intellectual fantasies come true.

In the end of Almost Famous, Russell shows up at William’s house. Though he thinks he is at Penny’s house to apologize and give her the attention William knows she deserves, Mr. Hammond has arrived at the Miller household. Elaine tells Russell “There is hope for you yet, Russell” and he proceeds into William’s room for the interview they never got to do. Russell sees the room and finally realizes just how young William is, and we see the kindness and electricity that attracts William and Penny to Russell in the first place.

Well, last week, after the event at the 12,000 sq.-foot Pac Heights mansion, Rivka and David drove me to my next destination. Behind all the fundraising talk and their public personas as famous authors, they stored my address in their GPS in case they ever needed to pick me up in the future. We talked about politics and what we will do after the election. A party perhaps? Who knows. But the idle chatter and casual talk with two mega literary stars has been enough to keep me glowing and smiling for two days. William relishes the chance to ask Russell “What is the one think you love about music?” Russell eagerly responds with a huge smile: “To begin with, everything.” I don’t even need to ask David or Rivka what they love about literature--though I do hope to one day. Getting such an intimate look into the life of people I admire so deeply has been truly enough. Dayenu!

Death. Taxes. Larry Brown Being a Bastard.

You can always count on Coach Brown.

Some things never change. Remember when I wrote this in April?

"...I get that Sam Vincent may not have been much, but you will wish he were coach, GM, and starting point guard by the time you're fully immersed in the Larry Brown experience. Let's see...

...there will be the nights when he holds pre-game press conferences and disparages all of your players while speaking in that somber, steady tone of his that's meant to convey an air of authority.

Well...

Jordan needed Larry Brown, and Brown needed Jordan. One was an absentee executive, and the other, an obstinate, self-destructive coach. After a winless preseason, Brown has already undertaken his usual routine of privately disparaging the roster and demanding upheaval.

“Like always with Larry, he hates the players he has and covets ones he doesn’t and then once he acquires them, hates them equally,” said one longtime league official.

If anything, I was wrong to give Brown the benefit of the doubt and assume he'd wait until the season started to ramp up his tired petulance. Obviously, he's begun early. Perhaps he can quit on his team by the end of November so that by 2009 he already has lined up the next job through which he can sulk and complain.

Best of luck, Charlotte. Enjoy the LB experience!

There's No Such Thing as Bad Press Dept.

She is about to go burn some bras and bomb a Nair factory.

This may shock some of you, but I think it's time I came out and "said" it: I am not a woman.

If you didn't break your computer and still are with me, let me add that I am prefacing this post with that bombshell because I am writing about a group of which I am not a member. Let that inform your judgments as it may.

On Tuesday, Sarah Palin questioned Barack Obama's commitment to women's rights, claiming that a true champion of women's issues would have chosen Hillary Clinton as a running mate. (Palin also said something about Obama paying women less than men, but I don't think that sounds right, and Palin will lie about anything at anytime. So let's move on from that one.) She then positioned herself as a real feminist pioneer because she is, indeed, a candidate for Vice President, and because she claims she will help to break the "highest glass ceiling" in the country.

For those confused--yes, Sarah Palin said this. The same woman who doesn't believe that other women should have full control over their own bodies. The same woman who makes the survivors of rape pay for their own rape kits. The same woman who couldn't name a news source or a Supreme Court case. She claims to speak for the women of America. She claims to be the vehicle through which women will finally achieve true equality.

Now, again, I am not a woman, but were I one, I'd be furious. In fact, because I support the equal treatment of women, I am furious.

It is galling that this proudly ignorant woman whose policy preferences belie the notion of equal treatment has the temerity to claim that her ascendancy would align her with feminist pioneers. She may be a woman, but she is so grossly unfit for the job she'd like that women of her own ideology--the Peggy Noonans and Kathleen Parkers of the world--have publicly ridiculed her candidacy. She is the embodiment of tokenism, a woman chosen merely for her gender and political utility, not for her qualification. That's not feminism. That's pandering. The fact that Palin is a knowing, willing conspirator in the cynical ruse makes it worse. She is, in effect, trading on her gender, and that, frankly, becomes political prostitution. Not exactly the noble sort of trailblazing to which she'd lay claim.

In many ways, Palin is more Al Sharpton than anything else. She's a provacateur happy to exploit demographics in the name of personal opportunism. That, surely, is not the feminist vision of equality, just as an unqualified Sharpton's ascent to the executive branch fueled by hostility and wedge politics would likely not be seen as a true triumph for blacks. Same with any group from which a bushleague "representative" wound up in a new position of power.The idea of equal treatment is that we assess people for whom they are using a universal set of criteria, not that we abandon common judgments just to achieve something synthetic and very likely damaging for the very group we'd purport to treat equally. Unless, of course, Sarah Palin is considered to be fit for office, her absent policy knowledge, general ignorance, and retrograde social beliefs be damned.

That is whom women would want as their champion?

Oh, and P.S.--Sarah, the next time that you go through a primary against an opponent who relies on prejudice and dirty campaigning while giving no indication that he or she would actually support you when cast as a subordinate partner, let us know if you would choose that person as a running mate.

Get Your Beard On

I have never seen this before, but I like it. Now if I could only grow a badass beard...

Get Caugh Up in Life!

There will be bums...

Crazy is as crazy does:

Marbury celebrated his first start with some solid play and a vicious verbal duel with House while House was sitting on the bench. It lasted several minutes and several possessions.

After Marbury drew a foul on Kendrick Perkins and hit two free throws, he turned and screamed at House, from midcourt: “You’re a bum!”

When play returned to the Celtics’ side of the court, House chirped, “Don’t worry about me. You better worry about Ray Allen,” whom Marbury was guarding. Marbury shot back, “You’re nothing!” then added, “You’re caught up in basketball. Get caught up in life.”

There will be future incidents.

Straight Bangin' on the Worldwide Leader

If you check out ESPN.com's NBA preview, you may notice team-by-team pages. Yours truly helped put together something about the Brickers. Check Box #6.

Never Forget...Until It's Convenient

Fake America

As you likely read, Sarah Palin said the following last week:

"We believe that the best of America is not all in Washington, D.C. We believe that the best of America is in these small towns that we get to visit, and in these wonderful little pockets of what I call the real America, being here with all of you hard working very patriotic, um, very, um, pro-America areas of this great nation. This is where we find the kindness and the goodness and the courage of everyday Americans. Those who are running our factories and teaching our kids and growing our food and are fighting our wars for us. Those who are protecting us in uniform. Those who are protecting the virtues of freedom." (emphasis added)

I ain't mad at that. She can believe that; she can say that. But the logical conclusion might be that she and the rest of the Republican party will never again invoke 9/11 other than to acknowledge United Flight 93 because the other attacks of that day didn't actually happen in "real America." I mean, why waste time worrying about the fake America?

To be fair, though, maybe Sarah just means that she and her party don't think that the teachers who work in cities, or the factory workers who live in cities, or the soldiers who come from cities are real Americans. That is perfectly reasonable.

The Real PSA

Another solid effort from the homies...

It's Nice Having a Funny Coach

It's all smiles until the next truck party.

Strategic concerns notwithstanding, I read these comments from Mike D'Antoni and couldn't help but smile:

Even Zach Randolph explored the outer reaches of his game. A 6-foot-9, 260-pound power forward, Randolph shot almost exclusively from 3-point range Sunday. D’Antoni joked that Pace would have to retire his number.

"I think he had more 3-point shots than anybody in the history of Pace," D’Antoni said. "He was getting into the spirit of an open practice, I guess."

The Knicks’ top draft pick, Danilo Gallinari, was still watching from the sideline, but he received one of the loudest ovations. He struggled with a back injury throughout the summer, but D’Antoni said he was close to returning and could practice in five-on-five play this week. D’Antoni has heard questions about Gallinari’s physical status since the preseason began, so when he was asked about it again, he laughed.

"He’s breathing," D’Antoni said. "We check his pulse every day."

It's a marked departure from the days when Isiah would offer those stilted statements and cryptic barbs that weren't pointed in any one direction. Or when he'd ramble on about blueprints and whatever else, all of it sounding delusional.

"My belief and what I see and where I believe we can go as a team and an organization, I believe one day that we will win a championship here and I believe a couple of these guys will be a part of that. I believe I'll be a part of that.

"As I sit here and I say it today, I know people will laugh even more at me, but I'm hell-bent on getting this accomplished and making sure that we get it done. And I'm not leaving until we get it done.

"I don't necessarily want to win a championship. I want to leave something that's going to stand for a long time. I want to leave a legacy. I want to leave a tradition. I want to leave an imprint, a blueprint in terms of how people play and how they coach and how they respond when they put on a Knick uniform.

"I want to leave what I left in Detroit. Every person who walks through that door as a Piston, when they put on that uniform, there's a certain pride that they carry. I want to put that here and I want to leave that here in New York. I want to leave a championship legacy.

"This is a dark time for us, but I know there's a light at the end of this tunnel and I'm going to keep digging and I'm going to keep pushing and I'm not going to quit. I'm going to do it here."

Now we get Comedy Night with Mikey D.

I can't believe the season finally starts next week. Between then and now, brace yourselves for the annual SB treatment. It will be Julian Wright-heavy...

There's Gully, and Then There's This

Wow.

A Brief Preview of My Expected Review of the New Kanye West Album

Wow, do you piss me off sometimes.

Yo fuck you, Kanye, first and foremost, for making me do this shit, motherfucker.

Seriously. The glasses, the clothes, the tantrums, the ill-advised collaborations, the blog with an RSS feed on steroids, the endless quotient for cheesiness--I look past almost all of it. And happily. When I hear classic material, like College Dropout; when I hear funny shit, like a "Throw Some D's" remix; when I hear that hungry and spiteful music of your earlier days, like "Is That Your Car"; when I hear that soulful production, like "Guess Who's Back"; when I hear that earnest experimentation, like Graduation, I am happy to look past your foibles. Really, that's part of what makes you great: you are very real, a figure with his strengths and weaknesses apparent to all.

But sometimes you run astray. You read too many press clippings. You attend too many I'm-cooler-than-you events with other celebrities and the desperate critics who want to be in on the jokes. You forget that just because you can do something doesn't mean that you should. You get self-indulgent and make bad decisions, dressing up errors in the mask of artistic risk. You lash out at people, some of whom earnestly love your best music, as haters if they question your direction. You make inauthentic music, like Late Registration, an album that collapsed under the weight of your obvious self-consciousness. Everyone loves a "Gold Digger" or "Gone," but let's not focus on the good first quarter and ignore that you still got blown out.

It sounds like this is happening again. Emphasis on sounds. The first three tracks off of 808's and Heartbreak are horrible. You may be sharing your pain, or presenting a new way to be vulnerable, but that scores you no points when you abuse the Autotune and sound like a whiny asshole. You don't sing well, and you are a rapper, not some electropop emo aspirant. Unless you are, in which case, I think we'll need to part ways. Worst of luck; that genre sucks, and we don't need someone else contributing to it. But if you are, indeed, still a rapper, still a godbody rap producer, then please stop. Do not make this sad, boring, synthesizer music better suited for YouTube parody than the hip-hop section of my iTunes. It would behoove us all. To use some legal terms I just learned, cease and desist.

- Kanye West, "Heartless"

- Kanye West, "The Coldest Winter" (HT: 2DB)

Central Blogger Previews

Chicago Bulls
Nels: Give Me The Rock
Matt: Blog-a-Bull

Cleveland Cavaliers
Rock: Waiting For Next Year
FTS: Fear The Sword
David Friedman: 20 Second Timeout
Amar Panchmatia: Cavalier Attitude

Detroit Pistons
Brian Spencer: Empty the Bench
Natalie Sitto: Need4Sheed.com
Matt Watson: Detroit Bad Boys

Indiana Pacers
Tom: Indy Cornrows

Milwaukee Bucks
Jeramey Jannene: The Bratwurst
Frank Madden: BrewHoop

Don't Get It Twisted

This is what Braylon Edwards was wearing on television last night.

TO: The Penn State Community
FROM: God
RE: This Weekend's Michigan Game

Nittany Lions, Nittany Lion fans,

This week, there is yet another new t-shirt quoting me (it's hard to keep up with these things!) It is an officially licensed product, and I do approve of it. To reiterate:

One win every decade doesn't do much to reverse the trend in a "rivalry."

I just want us to be clear. Thanks.

P.S. Anthony Morelli says "hi." He is enjoying the work at Burger King, though he's been asking me for some help in understanding the manual that goes with the fries machine.

Ever Seen a Chevy with Butterfly Doors? Ever Seen So Many Privileged White People at a Rap Show?

Get like him.

Were Wash U not rightfully named for Kermit Washington, a fitting title would probably be Country Club University. I'm not sure which of the following is most telling: that the most diverse place on campus (aside from my law-school class) is the parking lot--not only Lexuses, but Benzes, Beamers, Ranges, Infinitis, even transfers from the UK (Jaguars); that the school has re-created Melrose Place, with a pool set among these quaint dorm buildings and just outside of a dining facility that offers make-your-own anything (stir fry, salad, grilled food) and carries all kinds of sushi; that everything, even the faux-gothic curtainwall on most buildings, looks like it's from a planned-community model; that the newly opened student center boasts a dumpling bar; that it's so effing expensive. Really, it's all those things--in sum, few places I've been have ever felt as privileged.

To be fair, since starting high school, I've been in fairly egalitarian places: a massive public high school with countless first-generation Americans, and a massive public university that, despite more that a fair share of well-off kids, still serves a huge, mixed population among which those with less outnumber those with more. I was last enrolled in a private school more than half a lifetime ago, and things done changed. (I spent my elementary years at a private school that pretended to be public except for when bills were sent home.)

I am not really used to being in this kind of a place. And I am not trying to denigrate CCU. Generally, I get what my money my government cheese pays for (nice to have secured a loan before the world fell apart). It's a very good school, the education is strong, there is a welcomed intellectual atmosphere, and the other law students are largely awesome. Nonetheless, it is appreciably different than what I have known, and the country club comparison seems apt because the undergraduate community looks and feels like a lot of rich white kids. Further, they do the things that rich white kids do: throw pimps and hoes parties; cultivate a manicured casualness that can project an air of self-satisfaction; expect skim milk as a default setting; play ultimate frisbee; eschew working (I've yet to meet a Wash U undergrad with a job, and my friends who went here for undergrad didn't work and didn't have friends who worked). It feels like going to school at a Dave Matthews concert. I think. (I've never actually been to one of them.) It's a fine place with fine people, but it's different.

Nothing is more appropriate than W.I.L.D, the once-a-semester Wash U celebration of bacchanalia during which all of the rich white kids gather on a lawn, get drunk, smoke weed, make out with their boyfriends and girlfriends, and half-assedly listen to music. In the fall they bring in hip-hop acts; in the spring it's music for the white man (think Guster).

Last Saturday, W.I.L.D. went down, bringing with it Little Brother, David Banner, and Talib Kweli. Obviously, I had to attend, not least of all because one of the things I miss most about New York is the vibrant hip-hop scene. Two months with few concert opportunities and a set of radio stations that can't get enough Lil' Wayne, T-Pain, Murphy Lee, Young Jeezy, and Yung Berg had begun to take its toll. (Though, that is kind of what Hot 97 has become anyway, only with more Maino or whatever. *sigh*) Ever the kosher lawyer, I was in a suit all day (the product of some mock lawyering), having come to campus without a change of clothes and then having stayed to do homework until concert time. Given how surreally stereotypical W.I.L.D. was, dressing the part of a person removed from the community was only appropriate.

Upon walking into the quad that was hosting W.I.L.D., I was immediately struck by two things: the white out and the number of people on the grass. Everywhere I looked, there were drunk, high white kids laying around, usually on top of other people. Toward the stage, there was a crowd standing around bobbing their heads indifferently, but it didn't seem like an audience that had heard The Listening or really cared about Little Brother. To be fair, I should point out that I only saw one Little Brother song, having outsmarted myself. Rappers are nothing if not reliably late, so I got to the venue a half hour after the scheduled LB start time, assuming I'd game the system and be there to boo Joe Scudda just as he carried Phonte and Pooh's weed onto the stage with them. I was sadly mistaken, so perhaps the crowd had been more enthused earlier on. (I got to hear "Good Clothes." I'm not really sure what it means for LB's career if they're closing shows with a song that is mediocre and comes from an album that only the dedicated fans took time to consider.)

LB vacated the stage, and the crowd did what crowds do in between acts: walked around, got higher, got drunker. I started dancing to the house DJ's music. You'll never believe it, but he played "Award Tour" among other standards from the House DJ's Guide to Filling Time Between Acts.

Symbolic of the well-run event put on by the efficient private school, there was little time until David Banner came on. I am fairly agnostic when it comes to Mr. Banner. When in a club, I happily get down to "Like a Pimp," "Get Like Me," and "Play" (my personal favorite). (Naturally, I was dancing my ass off when he performed these on Saturday. Stuntin' is a habit, after all.) When at home, though, I don't love his records. I think he's smart and can be perceptive, but the production on his albums usually is nondescript, and his rhyming is not especially engaging by itself. (No Dwayne Carter fan, I will still readily concede that his verses and wordplay carry intentions and ideas with which Banner is not concerned.) That can be said about a lot of rap music, and one's capacity to enjoy certain hip-hop is ultimately a function of subjective taste. Skyzoo, for example, raps over a seemingly endless torrent of beats that are undistinguished from the hip-hop sub-genre on which he draws, yet I am far more apt to throw that on than to reach back for Certified or anything else.

Banner was fun in concert, though. It goes without saying that his shirt came off rather quickly, and over the course of his 40 minutes, he ran around, climbed up on the speakers, and channeled the energy that comes through on his more focused verses. An academic, he did not pass up the opportunity to condescend toward his white university audience. Nor did he neglect to stump for Barack Obama while lecturing the largely white crowd about Missouri's racial history. To use an obnoxious term, it was very "meta," as he was clearly amused by his setting and his audience. He even performed an edited version of "Play" in what felt like a concession to the country club atmosphere and what he may have presumed was the crowd's deficient hip-hop fluency and lesser tolerance for something so wanton.

And that, really, was the highlight of the day because Talib came on to close the show and performed the functional equivalent of the yule log. It was among the most boring hours of hip-hop I've ever seen live. But this is nothing new. I've long lamented that Talib's time has past. That's just how it goes. He's now something of a sympathetic figure. His recent albums have been solid if unspectacular, and his peak fades further into the horizon of the rearview mirror as time marches forward. He did "Move Something," "The Blast," "Definition," his verse from "Get 'Em High." He closed with "Get By." And in the interim, he did a bunch of boring shit from Eardrum and Beautiful Struggle. It's not so much that his music is bad; to the contrary, his catalogue is strong. But most of what he's made in recent years is not concernt music, and that seems to only reinforce how much more fun it was to see him back when he wasn't spinning his wheels.

Luckily for Talib, no one really seemed to care--alright, "Get By"--because by the end of the night, all the kids had passed out or lost their verve. It was time to retire to the comfort of another night at CCU.

Southwest Blogger Previews

Dallas Mavericks
Jake Kerr: Mavs Moneyball

Houston Rockets
grungedave and UofTOrange: The Dream Shake

Memphis Grizzlies
Joshua Coleman: 3 Shades of Blue

New Orleans Hornets
Rohan: At the Hive
ticktock6 & mW: Hornets Hype
Ryan Schwan & Ron Hitley: Hornets247.com

San Antonio Spurs
Graydon Gordian: 48 Minutes of Hell

Also see links to all the previews at CelticsBlog.com

Well, This Blows

You know, it was a nice day for a while. I had fun participating in some law-school negotiation competition; Little Brother, Talib Kweli, and David Banner are gonna be putting on a concert at school tonight; and it's still 80 degrees every day in Missouri. It was a nice day for a while.

But then I took a break from my studies to watch Michigan football lose--LOSE--to Toledo. And it was suddenly a horrible day. A horrible day filled with anger and loathing I didn't expect to encounter this fall.

Sure, I assumed that the Wolverines would struggle as a new coach installed a new system with a bunch of inexperienced players new to playing meaningful minutes. I understood that the magic of the Rodriguez spread would be more Gob Bluth than Tony Wonder as Michigan asked players--quarterbacks, especially--recruited for one set of activities to instead master another. Kind of. (It's not like "throwing with accuracy" isn't a priority across football schemes.) I was even prepared for a middling year filled with faulty execution, bare-minimum bowl eligibility (6-6, baby!), and a December spent in Detroit at the Motor City Bowl.

But not this. Not a team that seems to get worse each week. A team that can't carry out football basics, from its failure to block to its failure to tackle. A team that either gains no yards or loses yards almost half the time. A team that talks about being aggressive, fast, and physical but then turns one opponent after another into a collection of Heisman candidates. Do you realize that Michigan has more turnovers than touchdowns this year? That it has now set "records" by losing to Utah, losing to Toledo, letting the Juice get loose in Michigan Stadium as no other player ever has before? That it's lost three of five home games through the first half of the season?

Blame Lloyd Carr for failing to recruit the top-level OL, DB, and LB players needed to compete at a high level, but don't excuse Rich Rodriguez. No one was booking reservations in Miami for January this year, but most people assumed that one of the most successful coaches in recent history would teach a team how to avoid embarrassment, if nothing else. Sadly, Rodriguez and his staff have thus far proved incapable of teaching pretty much anything. The offensive line can't make a hole or buy much time. The quarterbacks can't throw the ball to the right spots. The running backs can't hang onto the rock. The defense can't tackle. It's a horror show. And a complete joke.

One of the best things about fall is college football, and that has been taken away from Michigan fans so far this season. I want it back, Rich.

Straight Bangin' Hockey Preview

Can't wait to watch some hock--wait a minute: they still play?

Bob Herbert Is Always Right

Always.

The economy won’t be saved by bailing out Wall Street and waiting for that day that never comes when the benefits trickle down to ordinary Americans. It won’t be saved until we get serious about putting vast numbers of Americans back to work in jobs that are reasonably secure and pay a sustaining wage.

And that won’t begin to happen until we roll up our sleeves and begin the immensely hard and expensive work of rebuilding a nation that unconscionably was allowed to slip into a precipitous state of decline. We’ll end up spending trillions for the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and another trillion, at least, to clean up after the madmen on Wall Street.

Now we need to find the money and the will to put Americans to work rebuilding the nation’s deteriorating infrastructure, revitalizing its public school system, creating a new dawn of energy self-sufficiency and rethinking our approach to an economy that remains tilted wildly in favor of the rich.

That’s what the presidential campaign should be about.

John McCain and the Making of a Financial Crisis

Big up, Keating Economics.

Atlantic Division Blogger Previews

Boston Celtics
Jeff Clark: CelticsBlog.com
Jim Weeks: Green Bandwagon
FLCeltsFan: LOY's Place
John Karalis: Red's Army
Dustin Chapman: Celtics 24/7

New Jersey Nets
Dennis Velasco: About Basketball

New York Knicks
Joey: Straight Bangin'
Seth Rosenthal: Posting and Toasting

Philadelphia 76ers
Dannie & Pete: Recliner GM
Jon Burkett: Passion and Pride

Toronto Raptors
Franchise: RaptorsHQ.com
Ryan McNeill: Hoops Addict
Cuzzy: Cuzoogle

Get Familiar: John McCain's Economics

There are few backdrops to a presidential campaign more fitting than the current financial crisis in the United States. I take no joy in the ongoing destruction, but it does provide an obvious platform on which we might consider the presidential candidates.

Thus far, Barack Obama has offered appeals to patience and has resisted a radical response in the name of campaign currency. But he also has done little to demonstrate real economic chops and did vote for a bailout package that fell woefully short of proper review and was never challenged by any competing proposals. That's a real negative. And, it's discouraging.

We all know what John McCain did. Putting country first, as always, he suspended his campaign and swooped into Washington just in time to upset a meeting with the President, inject extreme partisanship into the process, and submarine initial efforts. Then he kept yammering on and on about "fundamentals" meaning "workers" before eventually voting for the same bad bill. He also rode the Straight Talk Express to Insincere Populistville, where he stepped off the train to rail against inadequate regulation and Wall Street "fat cats." Only, he didn't really mean it (I don't think) since he has spent his entire career fighting regulation and taking economic cues from Phil Gramm. This Phill Gramm.

What we should remember is that John McCain is no stranger to the evils of ideology gone wrong. He, of course, was one of the Congressmen bought and paid for during the S&L scandal of the 1980s. Luckily, to help us remember, we now have Keating Economics, courtesy of Barack Obama's campaign. Peep the trailer:



And if you want to know even more about Captain America, you might want to read this Rolling Stone piece about McCain's life spent relying on nepotism, treating people like shit, and grandstanding as a "maverick." Before anyone howls with anger that McCain is "being treated this way," please don't forget that Obama was undressed quite thoroughly by The New Yorker back in July. It's not like we can't know what we want about either of these men.

A Nation in Decline

Please watch this. I'll wait for you...

...

...OK then.

I haven't written at length about Sarah Palin because there is no shortage of warranted, outraged criticism. But following last night's debate, and the subsequent coverage proclaiming that she proved herself, it's time for some real talk, if for no other reasons than catharsis and posterity.

As that video demonstrates, she is a dangerous woman. Dangerous because she presents herself as the victim of the mundane and the fair; dangerous because mainstream "news" outlets, like FOX, are complicit in propogating that myth, thereby neglecting a crucial reality (that Palin is an idiot); dangerous because consistently lowering standards under cover of indignation and emotional injury conceals critical information that should inform the choices we make as an electorate; dangerous because she could be the second highest-ranking government executive in a month.

Let's be clear: Katie Couric didn't ask Sarah Palin anything unfair. Neither did Charles Gibson, for that matter. Palin, herself, says interviews like Couric's are opportunities to ask a VP candidate what she stands for, and that's what these interviews have sought to establish. Palin, FOX, and people of that political ideology think that it's unfair of a journalist to inquire about a VP candidate's philosophy of jurisprudence? That it's unfair to ask a VP candidate what she thinks about the foreign policy doctrine pursued by the current administration? That it's unfair to ask a VP candidate what she thinks about a controversial solution to the largest economic crisis of this generation? That it's unfair to ask a VP candidate how she stays informed? Following juvenile statements by that same VP candidate that she has been imbued with foreign-policy experience merely due to the proximity of her home state to foreign nations? If those are unfair questions to ask of a major-party political candidate--particularly one whom no one had heard of two months ago--then America is doomed, because that is an attitude that signals the death of our nation's intellectual vitality. It would be offensively dishonest to argue otherwise. Perhaps Joe Biden should be subjected to the same questions; that makes sense. But the questions themselves are legitimate.

Worse, though, is that the Fox News clip is sadly emblematic of a larger phenomenon that has been manifest in this campaign: a sizable swath of the population appears to have decided that our leaders need not be special. It was sadly evident eight years ago when Al Gore was ridiculed as an "egghead" and George Bush was celebrated for his simplicity. The prevailing wisdom among far too many people appears to be that leaders need not possess sharp mental acumen or the ability to assimilate information quickly in order to take decisive action. John McCain--who has said he doesn't know much about the economy--and Sarah Palin, both, carry this mantle. This group appears to echo Palin's sentiment that a "Joe Six-Pack" is the right kind of person to lead the United States. It's OK that I don't know what to do; someone else can handle it. If scoffing at that is elitist, then tell me where I can sign up to be labeled as such. Peggy Noonan, herself, today pointed out what happens when we have a know-nothing running the show.

Being President, being Vice President--those are supposed to be hard jobs. If they were easy, anyone could do them. But, sadly, maybe that's the point?

When used colloquially, the term "hard job" usually connotes that a given occupation requires some combination of long hours, specialized training, ready intelligence, comfort with sometimes abstract concepts, and poise under pressure. This may be an imprecise list, but I think it's on the right track. For example, most people believe that being a doctor is more challenging than being a grocery-store clerk. To be a doctor, you must develop a specific body of knowledge that is filled with challenging concepts and an overwhelming volume of detail. You must then apply this knowledge when making decisions that literally affect life and death. Were that responsibility not enough, there are times when doctors must do this under the crushing pressure of limited time and emotional trauma. It is hard work that requires extraordinary training. Being a grocery-store clerk may challenge people, and it could very well seem onerous in the context of one's life, but it inherently does not demand commensurate training and apptitude. Being a doctor is a hard job.

There are other hard jobs. Being an astronaut. Being a lawyer. Being a police officer. And, of course, being good at almost anything can be hard; being good at something requires sacrifice in time and a rich understanding of the content. In the world, there are bad doctors and bad lawyers and bad cops, just as there are bad grocery clerks, and for these people, perhaps it's not as hard to work in those fields because they are willing to fall short of the requirements. But again, we tend to recognize the "hard jobs" when we see them, and when discussing a "hard job," people usually assume a standard that goes beyond the lowest possible threshold.

If Sarah Palin can be a legitimate candidate for vice president, and if a mainstream ticket of which she is a member can garner support from at least 40% of Americans, then perhaps a significant plurality of Americans believes that being vice president isn't such a hard job. Or perhaps this group believes that it's not all that important if the vice president carries out her duties well. It follows that this same group also might think that being President is not such a hard job, or is one that can be executed poorly. After all, anyone elected to serve as vice president is vetted with the question of whether he or she could carryout the duties of President should circumstances require that our nation follow the Constitution's prescription for executive succession.

What else can we be left to conclude? Having now seen Sarah Palin at her worst--pretty much any time she's asked a question for which she has not been thoroughly prepared--and at her best--delivering scripted semi-answers at a debate and rejoicing in insulting Joe Biden--she appears to be woefully ill equipped to carry out the requirements of a hard job.

Palin is generally uninformed. She cannot cite a mainstream news source, nor can she cite a Supreme Court decision other than Roe v. Wade. Her convoluted and incoherent speaking style, riddled with awkward idioms and misused words, is that of a woman who appears to have read little and to have received an inadequate education. For example, she continues to talk about Vladimir Putin "rearing" his head as though he's a gopher coming up from a hole. She often speaks as though English were not her primary language, and that owes, obviously, to her discomfort with various subjects and the challenge of discussing topics that she doesn't understand. It happens to everyone--I'd fumble my way through questions about quantum mechanics--but everyone isn't vested with the responsibilities of the vice presidency. And she's not falling short on complicated physics; she can't summon the name of a newspaper.

It wouldn't be so maddening, and it wouldn't be so dangerous, if Palin weren't running for national office. Then it would be funny. But instead, she is saluted merely for failing to make mistakes; she is excused for knowing so little because she delivers what she does know with a smile; she is praised for being rude and dismissive as though it were appropriate or desirable.

What kind of country is this? When did so many people decide that they were so comfortable leaving a hard job to someone so under-qualified? The same goes for McCain--what vast understanding of anything other than military affairs has he demonstrated? Is it really such a bad thing to be well educated? To have the mental acuity required to assimilate varied information and synthesize a nuanced understanding of a complicated world? We don't want that from the leader of our nation?

That's depressing.

Your 08-09 New York Knicks: The End Is the Beginning

N.B: Godbody NBA Blogger Jeff Clark, of the mighty CelticsBlog, has again endeavored to unite NBA fans and construct a patchwork quilt of NBA team previews. I was asked to preview the Brickers, along with another blogger worthy of your admiration, Seth over at Posting and Toasting. Let's get it...

Team: New York Knickerbockers
Last Year's Record: 23-59 (take that, Miami, Memphis, Minnesota, and Seattle!)
Key Losses: None
Key Additions by Subtraction: Coach Isiah Thomas (!), GM Isiah Thomas (!), Renaldo Balkman, Randolph Morris (*tear tattoo*)
Key Additions: Mike D'Antoni, Donnie Walsh, Chris Duhon, Chris Duhon's white-woman fetish, Anthony Roberson, Danilo Gallinari (R), Patrick Ewing, Jr. (R), the ghost of Allan Houston

1) What significant moves were made during the offseason?
So, uh, you might have heard that Isiah Thomas was removed as coach and GM of the Knicks this past spring. Isiah's ouster was what we humans like to call "long overdue" and "incredible." (Too bad Knicks owner James Dolan doesn't qualify as a member of the species; otherwise, he might understand better.) As much as anything else, this website stands as a testament to the historic discontent that Isiah Thomas engendered among Knick fans during his tenure presiding over what was arguably the worst franchise to compete in the NBA. The Knicks may not have etched out the worst cumulative record in the annals of the Lig during that time, but when you add the poor performance to subjective criteria, such as a reputational degradation and the excruciating emotional pain of abject mismanagement, there is a compelling case for such an ignominious superlative.

Now, that's all done. I hope. With Donnie Walsh running the franchise and Mike D'Antoni coaching it, the Brickers have actual professionals guiding the team. The mere presence of competent individuals will improve the franchise.

Put another way, it was nice that our coach could actually attend the first practice of the year this season rather than being forced into exile as he awaited the results of a sexual harassment lawsuit. The Knicks have already improved and training camp only opened this week.

As Isiah left, so, too, did one of his symbolic proxies: Renaldo Balkman. The embodiment of Isiah's quirky decision making and ill-advised stewardship of the Knicks, Balkman was shipped to Denver in return for the right to not pay him. Given that he has the worst offensive abilities in the Association and was on the Knicks mostly because he was bipedal and could jump, Balkman's departure felt good in the pants.

The other move of true distinction was the signing of Chris Duhon. Duhon is an odd player. He came out of high school with a reputation as a shooter, but that's not really his strength. He was then going to be a great point guard, but those aren't his innate talents. By NBA standards, he is a mediocre player with athleticism and a skill set that do not exceed adequate, respectively. However, while neither a great shooter nor a great point guard, he also is not a cancer. He is not a moron. He is not a diva. He is not a lunatic. And as such, he represents an upgrade for the point guard position, because the incumbent, Stephon Marbury, is all of the things Duhon is not.

Oh, and big news: the Knicks used the sixth pick in the draft to grab a guy who already has bulging disks in his back and may or may not be able to play defense. What we do know is that he has a lot of potential on offense. So welcome, aboard, Danny G. By setting foot in America, you've exceeded the contribution of Frederic Weis. And by not being a complete bust upon first inspection, you're better than Jerrod Mustaf.

2) What are the team's biggest strengths?
Change we can believe in. Seriously. Losses will mount, and the honeymoon with a new coach will end, but the Knicks will be a better team just because they will no longer be forced to toil under an incompetent, mercurial regime. For instance, it is unlikely that D'Antoni will get into any fistfights with his own players on the team plane. And I would wager that should the Knicks be trailing in a winnable game, we won't see crunch-time lineups with Malik Rose and Wilson Chandler asked to fill it up.

It would be nice to list more things--shooting, rebounding, defense, and so forth. But this roster is primarily the same one that lurched to 23 wins last season due to incompetent offense, lazy defense, and inconsistent effort. A new coach and his new system may offer improvement, but they also will require time. Time to learn, time to adjust, and time to define new roles. I was skeptical about the impact of the D'Antoni hiring because the Knicks will not be a championship-caliber team until there is wholesale roster revision, and even then, D'Antoni may not be the right guy for the job. But to run, you first must walk. The Brickers may not have a Steve Nash and an Amare Stoudemire and a Shawn Marion, but they do, finally, have a culture of professionalism. That helps.

3) What are the team's biggest weaknesses?
Defense. These Knicks don't play it much. They can't keep people out of the lane; they don't have an athletic wing player who can give the Kobe Bryants of the world a hard enough time getting shots; they have no shot blocking; and they don't try. For the past few seasons, the number of times an opponent drove into the paint largely unencumbered was only exceeded by the number of times that the team phoned it in. You could see it in their body language and on their faces. They didn't want to try hard, they didn't want to work together, and they were playing for a coach whom most of them hated and who didn't hold them accountable. It was miserable.

The biggest difference between then and now is that the team finally has a coach who...doesn't seem capable of developing good defenders. Steve Nash is a one-way player whose defense is almost cute because it's so ineffective. Amare Stoudemire has yet to find a big man who couldn't get his when playing the Suns. Shawn Marion, for all of his athleticism, was never the catalyst for Phoenix blossoming into a better defensive unit. D'Antoni is into the seven-seconds thing. He may preach defense and he may appreciate its importance, but you don't hire him because you think defensive fundamentals are the only thing keeping you from a title.

Again, the culture change will make for happier players who are more motivated and exert more effort (at least, until the Marbury and Randolph and Curry corrosion sets in), but the Knicks will not be good defenders any time soon.

4) What are the goals for this team?
Stop being fuck ups. Sorry to be blunt and profane, but that, really, is the goal. Start acting like men. Start playing like professionals. No more intern parties, no more asinine decisions, and no more loafing.

The secondary goal, of course, and one that buttresses the first, is to get rid of the other Isiah proxy, Stephon. He represents everything that has been horrible about the Knicks. If I had the money, I'd gladly give him $20 million to go away. I'd even throw in a house in Tuscany. That is how much a Knick fan just wants this abortion of basketball to end.

5) In five years, Stephon Marbury will be...
...like Mike Tyson: a sad, cautionary circus-show whose rise and fall will capture the hope that forever permeates ghetto America and also the inescapable reality that money can't compensate for bad parenting and self-defeating models of behavior. He may also be spreading God's word from his $40 million plane during transatlantic flights to and from Italy with Sarah Plain Palin-Marbury riding shotgun.

Predicted Record: 30-52