I've been thinking of this idea called the League of Champions ("LOC"). It's a silly basketball fantasy.
Basically you take five players from each team in the league. They don't have to be starters, but each position has to be represented. For each current player you combine the skills and athleticism with the game of one player that played that position in team history. On top of that, you assume each player on the roster is playing in his prime.
So for example, the Celtics starting five in the LOC would be Sam Cassell (in his prime)/Dennis Johnson, Ray Allen/Havlicek, Pierce/Bird, KG/McHale, and Perkins/Russell. So, the KG/McHale player, for example, would have the athleticism, defense, and outside shooting of KG but the low post game of McHale.
Obviously, that team would be awesome. But would they beat Lakers LOC team: Magic/Fisher, Kobe/West, Odom/Worthy, Gasol/McAdoo, and Bynam (in his future prime)/Kareem?
I would be interested to see if anyone can make an argument for a LOC squad to would beat either of these two teams. The Pistons would have a nasty team.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
#6
Laszlo felt is stomach quiver. His voice was hollow with fear. "I don't want to help you," he whispered.
Erogenous sneered and grabbed Laszlo by the collar. "Come on pansy pants, come see what we're doing to your girlfriend, Joey." Erogenous pronounced "girlfriend" as if he were a giggling little girl.
By way of background, Joey lived down the street in a dilapidated mobile home with his grandmother, Nancy. The most noteworthy thing about Joey, other than the frequency with which he shit his pants, is that he had a very limited vocabulary, even for a twelve year-old. This was partially because Nancy had lost her tongue in a car accident before Joey was born, and so Joey was raised by a woman who couldn't speak discernible English, and partially -- more partially even -- because no one gave a crap about Joey to make sure he could talk like a normal boy. It's also true that Nancy was too poor to buy a working television set. But even if she were able to afford one, there was no place in the mobile home to put it. Back when Nancy had a working tv, back before Joey and all of his crap, she had put it up on an ironing board in her "kitchen" and watched it from the toilet seat through the bathroom door. Now, the television and the ironing board were part of a large pile of rust in the "backyard."
And so it was that Joey was raised by a mute who didn't own a working television and who, for many years, welcomed no visitors. Still, Joey learned some words, like "hungry" and "shit" and "fuck" and "fuckface," mostly from Laszlo's brothers who were always cussing. When teased by other kids, Joey would commonly say things like "Shit fuckface, shit shit," and so on. He would also make farting sounds with his mouth, which he sometimes meant to be insulting, but which also made out of boredom. Joey's favorite sounds though were animal noises because they got the best reactions from people. Sometimes he would bark like an angry dog at the kids who would ride bikes past his house. Sometimes, when spoken to by an adult, he would simply meow like a cat. He actually learned that from Nancy who could sill meow like a cat without her tongue.
To finish up with the background, Laszlo once happened upon Erogenous and the other boys as they were throwing rocks at Joey's mobile home. Laszlo was sure that they were all going to get in trouble and so he told the boys to stop. He really didn't give a crap about Joey, who was actually two years younger than him and seemingly retarded. But from that moment on, no matter what Laszlo said or did, Joey was his "girlfriend." For example, if Laszlo was mean to Joey, the boys would say that they were having a lovers' spat or that Laszlo was just mad because Joey wouldn't kiss him. And so, and after a while, Laszlo began to resent Joey. In fact, later that day he would refer to Joey as "the farting dogboy" in his journal.
Getting back to the story, Laszlo knew that something serious was being done to Joey in the shed. Joey never, and I mean never, ventured anywhere near Laszlo's house. This meant that Erogenous and the other boys had captured Joey and brought him back to the shed so that they could torment him with impunity. And yes, as Laszlo drew closer to the shed door, he could her Joey barking like a very scared little dog. Whimpering even. He also heard "Shit fuckface, shit shit" and so on.
Erogenous sneered and grabbed Laszlo by the collar. "Come on pansy pants, come see what we're doing to your girlfriend, Joey." Erogenous pronounced "girlfriend" as if he were a giggling little girl.
By way of background, Joey lived down the street in a dilapidated mobile home with his grandmother, Nancy. The most noteworthy thing about Joey, other than the frequency with which he shit his pants, is that he had a very limited vocabulary, even for a twelve year-old. This was partially because Nancy had lost her tongue in a car accident before Joey was born, and so Joey was raised by a woman who couldn't speak discernible English, and partially -- more partially even -- because no one gave a crap about Joey to make sure he could talk like a normal boy. It's also true that Nancy was too poor to buy a working television set. But even if she were able to afford one, there was no place in the mobile home to put it. Back when Nancy had a working tv, back before Joey and all of his crap, she had put it up on an ironing board in her "kitchen" and watched it from the toilet seat through the bathroom door. Now, the television and the ironing board were part of a large pile of rust in the "backyard."
And so it was that Joey was raised by a mute who didn't own a working television and who, for many years, welcomed no visitors. Still, Joey learned some words, like "hungry" and "shit" and "fuck" and "fuckface," mostly from Laszlo's brothers who were always cussing. When teased by other kids, Joey would commonly say things like "Shit fuckface, shit shit," and so on. He would also make farting sounds with his mouth, which he sometimes meant to be insulting, but which also made out of boredom. Joey's favorite sounds though were animal noises because they got the best reactions from people. Sometimes he would bark like an angry dog at the kids who would ride bikes past his house. Sometimes, when spoken to by an adult, he would simply meow like a cat. He actually learned that from Nancy who could sill meow like a cat without her tongue.
To finish up with the background, Laszlo once happened upon Erogenous and the other boys as they were throwing rocks at Joey's mobile home. Laszlo was sure that they were all going to get in trouble and so he told the boys to stop. He really didn't give a crap about Joey, who was actually two years younger than him and seemingly retarded. But from that moment on, no matter what Laszlo said or did, Joey was his "girlfriend." For example, if Laszlo was mean to Joey, the boys would say that they were having a lovers' spat or that Laszlo was just mad because Joey wouldn't kiss him. And so, and after a while, Laszlo began to resent Joey. In fact, later that day he would refer to Joey as "the farting dogboy" in his journal.
Getting back to the story, Laszlo knew that something serious was being done to Joey in the shed. Joey never, and I mean never, ventured anywhere near Laszlo's house. This meant that Erogenous and the other boys had captured Joey and brought him back to the shed so that they could torment him with impunity. And yes, as Laszlo drew closer to the shed door, he could her Joey barking like a very scared little dog. Whimpering even. He also heard "Shit fuckface, shit shit" and so on.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Just ran across this quote...
"Keep your thoughts positive, because your thoughts become your words. Keep your words positive, because your words become your behavior. Keep your behavior positive, because your behavior become habits. Keep your habits positive, because your habits become your values. Keep your values positive , because your values become your destiny". -M. Ghandi
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Tom and My Sanity
Do you think I first lost this last piece of sanity when I melted the candle over my carpet? I didn’t really mean to. It just started to spill over. Then the colors seemed to mesh so well. I thought, “Hey I’m artistic,…” It turned out that this decision was less than acceptable.
So how do you manage the initial knee jerk reaction “fuck those assholes that don’t shit from shit”. After all, isn’t it their admiration you’ve been seeking or at the very least trained to seek.
I brought this up at dinner the other night with my relatively new friend Tom. His response to the whole issue was not surprising. He is much less an alarmist than the narrator. Tom holds himself in a particular way that perhaps only a middle aged long bearded Jew could. At first glance, he blisters as some unfortunate leftover from the summer of love. But his intellectual commentary relieves him from excessive inane judgment, even for those unwilling to listen. And if pressed, you can really only fault Tom for being a bit too excited about Tuesdays. He fucking loves Tuesdays.
So how do you manage the initial knee jerk reaction “fuck those assholes that don’t shit from shit”. After all, isn’t it their admiration you’ve been seeking or at the very least trained to seek.
I brought this up at dinner the other night with my relatively new friend Tom. His response to the whole issue was not surprising. He is much less an alarmist than the narrator. Tom holds himself in a particular way that perhaps only a middle aged long bearded Jew could. At first glance, he blisters as some unfortunate leftover from the summer of love. But his intellectual commentary relieves him from excessive inane judgment, even for those unwilling to listen. And if pressed, you can really only fault Tom for being a bit too excited about Tuesdays. He fucking loves Tuesdays.
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