It's been a long since I've posted anything on ATGR, and even longer since I've posted anything worthwhile. Someday, when I have more time, which will probably be twenty or thirty years from now, I'll sit down and write a post about Kimya's birth and what that whole experience was like, although I don't think I'll ever be capable enough as a writer to describe it without using cliches. It was just an indescribably wonderful experience.

For now, I'm just going to post a picture of our beautiful girl, Kimya, or as I like to call her, Mimya, or The Mim, or sometimes, Rancho Cucasmoocho, which is a reference to her Southern California roots. I also like to call her my little gulab jamun and my little jalebi baby, which are references to her Indian roots and the fact that she looks like a sweet dessert. Every once in a while, I like to sing a song in which I call her my pumpkin pie and tell her that she's the apple of my eye. She likes looking at me. She doesn't like it yet when I kiss her, which is probably because of my beard and stubble and coffee breath. But she smiles at me when I get home from work and hold her. And when I stick my tongue out at her, she sticks her tongue out back. It's all pretty damned amazing.

For My Love On Her Birthday

Yours is the laugh that makes me want to say silly things;
To sing your name with pleasant chords;
And kiss my hand while pretending it’s yours.
Yours is the smile that sets me at ease;
A hat for my heart that won’t let it freeze.

I wish I could shrink you and keep you with me;
Get hugs when I need them and scratches for free.
I wish that our snuggles would go on without end;
With no worries and flurries of things to attend.

I’m glad for your birthday we’re going away;
You love to travel and eat good soufflé.
Someday we’ll have time to go back to France;
Drink wine in Bordeaux while learning to dance.

Together we’ll sail down the Chesapeake Bay;
We’ll stop in St. Michaels and buy a cafe.
You’ll make the chili and bake funny cakes;
I’ll smoke the meats and cook all the steaks.
Then we’ll move on to London or maybe to Greece;
Or maybe to Sweden, Tahiti or Nice.

Wherever you want, I’m happy to go;
Whenever you’re leaving, I’ll be in tow.
I don’t need a job, a house or a car;
I don’t need my bongos or my guitar.

I just need your love, your lips and your thighs;
And maybe your hair, your hips and some pies.
I do need those cheeks that draw me so near;
The ones on your face (and the ones on your rear).

Thoughts on the Law

Yesterday afternoon I skimmed the California Supreme Court’s opinion in Strauss, et al. v. Horton, et al., in which the Court held that Proposition 8 constitutes a permissible change to the California Constitution. Prop 8 was a ballot initiative that was approved by CA voters last November. It defined marriage as between a man and a woman, thus making gay marriage illegal. The main issue before the Court in Strauss was whether Prop 8 was a permissible amendment to the state Constitution or whether it was an impermissible revision of the Constitution, such that it could be accomplished only through legislative action. California law allows for the amendment of the state Constitution through ballot measures but requires legislative action for a wholesale revision of the Constitution.

Although the Court entertained various side issues and arguments, the lengthy majority opinion ultimately boils down to two points: (1) the Court’s determination that Californians had long ago agreed upon a very liberal process for amending the state Constitution through ballot initiatives; and (2) the Court’s determination that Prop 8 is not a wholesale revision of the equal protection clause of the Constitution, but rather, carves out a narrow and limited exception to those rights. As a secondary issue, the Court held that Prop 8 does not apply retroactively, meaning all of the gay marriages that took place in CA before the measure was adopted remain valid.

What is most striking about the decision is the almost apologetic tone of the majority opinion. Justice George framed the issue thusly:

First, as explained in the Marriage Cases, supra, 43 Cal.4th at page 780, our task in the present proceeding is not to determine whether the provision at issue is wise or sound as a matter of policy or whether we, as individuals, believe it should be a part of the California Constitution. Regardless of our views as individuals on this question of policy, we recognize as judges and as a court our responsibility to confine our consideration to a determination of the constitutional validity and legal effect of the measure in question. It bears emphasis in this regard that our role is limited to interpreting and applying the principles and rules embodied in the California Constitution, setting aside our own personal beliefs and values.

In other words, we don’t agree with Prop 8, but our personal opinions can’t get in the way of our task of impartially interpreting and applying the law. That sentiment won’t pacify gay rights advocates, but it sounds fair enough, right? We don’t want our judges deciding cases based on personal biases or political preferences.

But is it really possible for judges to interpret the law impartially? What is it that we even mean when we say that judges should be impartial?

I suppose we mean that we want our judges to “follow the law” and not decide cases based on their own beliefs. Of course, we know that deciding a case is rarely as simple as following the law. For that to be true, there would have to be an applicable law or legal authority for every situation that a judge could conceivably come across, no ambiguities in the applicable law, and no conflicting or competing authorities that could apply equally in a given case.

As you can see from Strauss, the reality is that appellate judges must determine what the law dictates in situations where the governing legal authority is contested between the litigants.

So then, how should judges “apply the law” when presented with a new or disputed question of law?

In Strauss, the Court peered back in time so to speak and considered what Californians intended when they created a Constitution that could be amended by a simple majority vote on a ballot measure. This approach of determining constitutional issues by looking at what the drafters/framers intended is known as Originalism, and is currently espoused by Justice Thomas of the U.S. Supreme Court. Originalists believe that the Constitution has a fixed meaning that was determined at the time it was drafted. Similarly, textualists, like Justice Scalia, believe that the interpretation of a written constitution or law should be based on what reasonable persons living at the time of its adoption would have declared the ordinary meaning of the text to be.

There are both practical and philosophical problems with the Originalist/Textualist approach.

One practical problem is that what the drafters intended at the time they created the constitution is not always known, and so judges are apt to speculate about what they might well have intended, often by reference to the language of the constitution or law. Circular, I know.

A second problem is that the intentions of the drafters of a constitution may not be uniform. For example, the right of freedom of speech, as guaranteed by the First Amendment, meant one thing to Thomas Jefferson and something else to John Adams. (I know this from watching the HBO miniseries on John Adams.) Indeed, our Constitution was a compromise between various people of greatly differing political opinions. How then can judges be expected to look to the framers' intentions to resolve questions of constitutional law?

An even more significant problem is the issue of why we should hold the framers’ intentions above our own moral judgment. The framers lived hundreds of years ago, had different values than we do, and faced different issues than we do. So why should we look to them to determine what our laws should be today?

Cynical legal realists will argue that Originalism and Textualism are merely methods by which conservative judges are able to justify the decisions they want to reach. This makes sense to me. If you are looking for a way to keep the world from changing, align yourself with a theory of judicial interpretation that is bootstrapped to the perceived intentions of people who lived in the 18th century.

In fairness, cynical legal realists will argue that all judicial interpretation is a process by which judges attempt find ways to justify the decisions they want to reach.

That’s not to say that cases are decided arbitrarily by judges without regard to precedent, or that judges are always able to reach decisions that comport with their personal preferences. Judges cannot simply ignore precedent. If an “activist judge” were to start deciding cases based on nothing more than a personal agenda, and without regard for precedent, the judge would be overruled, scrutinized by his peers, slammed in law review articles, and ultimately removed from the bench. So then what is it that judges do? They walk a fine line between ruling in a way that is consistent with their moral conscience and creating a plausibly valid legal opinion given the legal precedent.

I find nothing offensive about the inherent tension in the law between deference to precedent and the moral conscience of judges. If our judicial system did not require that deference be given to precedent, the law would, of course, be inconsistent to the point of being incoherent, and would at times be radically at odds with the prevailing values of society. On the other hand, judges can rarely just "follow precedent" and often have to decide cases based on their own notions of fairness. The statement that judges should never "make law" reflects both ignorance of how legal decisions are reached and a preference for some nonsensical theory of judicial interpretation. Do we really think judges should be deciding cases by divining the dictates of natural law? How does that work exactly? Or perhaps judges should be trying to ascertain the intentions of people who lived hundreds of years ago and, oh by the way, owned slaves. That’s just silliness.

So, maybe instead of saying that we want judges who are impartial—because we know that that’s an absurd idea—we should say that we want judges who are without prejudice, who are honest, who are intelligent, and who are wise.

With all that in mind, it was interesting to read President Obama’s remarks about Judge Sotomayor and the role of the judiciary yesterday morning. He said:

While there are many qualities that I admire in judges across the spectrum of judicial philosophy, and that I seek in my own nominee, there are few that stand out that I just want to mention.

First and foremost is a rigorous intellect -- a mastery of the law, an ability to hone in on the key issues and provide clear answers to complex legal questions. Second is a recognition of the limits of the judicial role, an understanding that a judge's job is to interpret, not make, law; to approach decisions without any particular ideology or agenda, but rather a commitment to impartial justice; a respect for precedent and a determination to faithfully apply the law to the facts at hand.

These two qualities are essential, I believe, for anyone who would sit on our nation's highest court. And yet, these qualities alone are insufficient. We need something more. For as Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, "The life of the law has not been logic; it has been experience." Experience being tested by obstacles and barriers, by hardship and misfortune; experience insisting, persisting, and ultimately overcoming those barriers. It is experience that can give a person a common touch and a sense of compassion; an understanding of how the world works and how ordinary people live. And that is why it is a necessary ingredient in the kind of justice we need on the Supreme Court.

Obama makes a tenuous but clever distinction between judges who bring an ideology to the bench and judges who bring a certain experience to the bench. What's the difference? The difference is that "ideology" is a conservative buzz word for "judicial activism." Clearly, Obama's second point about valuing judges who have "a commitment to impartial justice" is merely his way placating conservatives. He's a smart lawyer and a smart politician. He knows that, whether we like it or not, judges make law. The law is, as cynical legal realists say, whatever judges say it is.

On My Defeat to Meat

When it comes to food, I have the self-discipline of a hungry labrador. If you've ever owned a lab, you know that whether or not it's hungry, it'll gobble up everything you put in front of it. No matter how much food you put in its bowl, it will eat all of it. It could be as fat as a tick with legs that no longer touch the ground and still it will wiggle its way over to the dinner table and beg for scraps, eyes bulging out of its head and all. Labs, unlike smarter, more self-respecting breeds (like German Sheppards, for example), will even over-eat to the point of vomiting, if allowed.

Not many people have ever over-eaten to the point of vomiting. I'm embarrassed to admit that I've done it...twice.

So, considering my lack of self-discipline, it might have been a bit naive of me to think that I could go a month without eating meat. And, in fact, it was naive. My self-inflicted exile into vegetarianism came to an end this past weekend when I ate a delicious plate of halibut at Cafe Beaujolais on Friday night and then a slab of ribs on Sunday afternoon. I fell two weeks shy of my goal of making it one month without eating meat.

Why was I unable to meet my goal? Two things messed me up. First, in the middle of last week, I accidentally ate a chorizo-filled, deep-fried squash blossom. I guess technically I didn't accidentally eat it. I intentionally ate it not knowing that it was filled with chorizo. Anyway, I'd like to say that I spit it out and threw away the second bite, but it was freaking delicious so I ate it. After this happened, I kind of felt like I had failed in my quest and that I should just give up. But what really put me over the top was when Priya told me on Friday afternoon that she had eaten chicken for lunch and that she was done with the vegetarian diet. That was all the excuse I needed to quit.

What did I learn from my 2.5 weeks of vegetarianism? A few things, actually.

1. Cucumber sandwiches are a delicious alternative to meat sandwiches. All you need is sliced cucumber, mayonnaise (or cream cheese) and some salt and pepper. If you want to add some other fancy seasonings or a sprig of mint and/or basil, all the better. These are especially good on hot days with cold cucumbers. They taste like summertime. While I'm on sandwiches, let me add that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are the most underrated sandwiches in all of the sandwich kingdom. I used to eat them all the time as a kid but have only occassionaly eaten them as an adult. Turns out, they are still just as delicious.

2. Tofu is difficult to make taste good. I tried cooking it twice and it didn't come out right either time. I just don't know what the hell to do with it. Priya will tell you that it was fine, but it definitely was not fine. I saw a guy cook it on TV the other day by wrapping it in proscuitto and grilling it. That kind of defeats the purpose, doesn't it?

3. Going vegetarian will not cause you to lose weight if you replace your portions of meat with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

4. When J-Bird said that eating a steak after not eating meat for a week made him feel high, it was because he was actually high at the time and not because of the steak. Or perhaps he was eating a steak made out of marijuana. I don't know. But I felt exactly the same going from meat-eating to vegetarian, and then switching back to meat. I mean, I felt exactly the same. This leads me to believe one of two things about people who claim that going vegetarian makes them feel ill or tired or whatever they say: (1) these people went from eating meat, which has some nutritional value, to eating nothing but potato chips and ice cream, or (2) they're lying and just want an excuse that justifies why they couldn't cut it as a vegetarian.

5. When in doubt over what vegetarian food to get, go Indian. Indians are, after all, a mostly vegetarian people, so they know how to do it right.

So that's it. I hope that I can use this experience to forge a healthier, less meat intensive diet going forward. That will officially complete my transformation into an effette, Prius-driving, interracially married, Los Angeles liberal pigdog. Oh how you all will feel so morally and culturally inferior when that day comes.

Our Trip Back East

Priya and I recently visited Maryland and North Carolina. We started our trip in Maryland where we spent a couple days on the Eastern Shore with Nan and Uncle Joe. While we were there, we went on several long drives out into the countryside. Here are some photos of the Eastern Shore in its current state of being.





























These next two photos are of Wye Island. Wye Island is a "Natural Resource Management Area," whatever that means. My poking around on the internet revealed this synopsis concerning the history of Wye Island:

"For over 300 years, Wye Island was privately owned and managed for agricultural use, including tobacco and wheat farming. Two of the most noteworthy owners were William Paca [interesting sidebar, Priya and I were married at the William Paca House in Annapolis] and Charles Beale Bordley. Mr. Paca, third governor of Maryland and one of the signatories of the Declaration of Independence, owned half of the island north of Dividing Creek. Mr. Bordley was a distinguished lawyer and jurist who owned half of the island south of Dividing Creek. In the 1770's Mr. Bordley gave up his law career to devote his life to farming and make Wye Island totally self-sufficient. Under Mr. Bordley's control, the island prospered with its own vineyards, orchards, textile production, brick yard, and even its own brewery.

Eventually the island was sold off into at least 13 separate farms. The most influential owners were Glenn and Jacqueline Stewart. Ultimately they owned eight of the thirteen farms and turned Wye Island into a cattle ranch. The Stewart's built the hunting lodge (Duck House), which remains today on Granary Creek. In the mid 1970's the encroaching threat of residential development forced the State of Maryland to purchase the island to ensure its preservation."

Priya likes Mr. Bordley's definition of "self-sufficient," which is broad enough to include vineyards and a brewery. Having tasted wines made on the Eastern Shore, I understand why the vineyards didn't stick. While we were in Annapolis during our trip, we bought a bottle of "Gollywobbler Red," which is red wine produced by St. Michaels Winery. To our dismay, the wine tasted like Concord grape juice, which would have been fine if we were shopping for something to serve to children to make them go to sleep. Priya and I resolved that it should be called "Alcoholic Grape Juice. Great for Mixing!" and then we would have known not to buy it. Later, we examined the label more closely and found that it read: "This fun, fruit-forward wine is made with a combination of Concord grapes and a splash of Cabernet Sauvignon. A great picnic red with hints of lime and lemon. Drink it well chilled over crushed ice, or as a spritzer or martini." There you go. Always read the fine print.

If you want to visit Wye Island, the official website recommends that you bring bug spray.

















In North Carolina we visited John, Kristen and Baby Rosie, and were joined by Mom and Dad, Jason and Marina, and Marc and Deanna. Here are some photos from that part of the trip.



Victory!








Don't worry Rosie, you're not related to him.




Rosie likes keeping her shoes on her hands. I don't know why but it's cute.













Don't let the pose fool you. He's neither strong nor muscular.













Why the grimace, Mr. Sandman?

Restaurant Review #1

I've decided to write some brief reviews of a few restaurants near our home in Mt. Washington. Why? I'm hoping that someone from a newspaper or a food website will read the blog and offer me a full-time job as a restaurant critic. Then, once I become well known and respected, I'll become a judge on Iron Chef America where I'll get paid big bucks to eat delicious food on TV and say things like, "I enjoy the textures and flavors in this dish, although I wonder how much the sea bass is really starring here. I feel like the risotto would be just as delicious without the sea bass." Could happen, right? Anyway, here goes.

The York








The York is a hip Gastro-Pub located on York Boulevard in Highland Park. This is one of our go-to restaurants, meaning we go there when we're hungry and don't want to take a chance on getting crappy food. Our favorite offerings from the black chalkboard menu are the shrimp bruschetta, the corn chowder, the fish and chips, the cheeseburger and fries, and the pulled pork cuban sandwich.

The cuban sandwich is particularly tasty. Imagine a good cuban sandwich in your mind's eye. The outside of the french bread is still hot and slightly greasy from the press, while the inside of the bread is soft and warm. With this sandwich you taste the pulled pork first. It's tender, thinly shredded, and slightly salty. It plays nicely with the thin slices of sweet ham and melted white cheese. The sandwich is also well complimented by a side serving of pickled slaw.

After a couple of big bites you've eaten half the sandwich. Now you're looking at the second half wondering if you should order another. You grab some fries from Priya's plate because you know you'll look like a pig if you order another sandwich. Mmm, the fries are good. Hot and well seasoned. A couple sips from your fine Beligian-style beer -- this time it's an Allagash White -- and you're wondering if you've ever had a better sandwich or a better beer or better fries. Perhaps, but the pork is causing delerium. Pork delerium hightened by fine Beligian-style beer. Now the room is spinning in pleasant harmony with your little food dance. It's really just a sway, that's all it is. A sway, back and forth, in your chair. You don't realize that you're doing it until Priya says, "What are you doing?" And then bartender gives you a funny look as if to say, "This bar is really meant for cool people, but it's okay, you look like you're having a good time." And you are. A great time, in fact.

So I recommend the York highly. Just try to get there early to avoid the dense hipster crowds.

Here is the link: http://www.theyorkonyork.com/

New Blog Post

So I've completely neglected ATGR in 2009. It's been that dreaded combination of work, laziness and lack of inspiration. Although I really haven't had much to write about. The one noteworthy item is that we almost bought a new house in January. We put an offer on a place in our neighborhood that we had always liked and which had come on the market cheap through a short sale. Unfortunately, when we had the inspection done during escrow, we found out that the house is full of termites, has a septic tank, needs a new roof, and has major structural problems. Even worse, we found out that the house was built on an Indian burial ground. Not a Native American burial ground. An Indian burial ground, as in, a burial ground of people from India. It's actually much worse than a Native American burial ground. For example, we encountered this one ghost named Darjaymender who warned us that the real estate market is still two years away from hitting rock bottom. It was terrifying. We also met a ghoulish Punjabi programmer named Ramjeet who said to Priya, and I quote, "आप मेडिकल स्कूल के लिए चले गए हैं चाहिए." From what Priya tells me, that roughly translates to, "You should have gone to medical school like my daughter, Ramjeeta." So we couldn't buy that place. Not with all that drama. Thanks, but no thanks.

Well, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your feelings about me and my off-color Indian jokes, I have nothing else to write. I guess I'll go to bed and sleep off what was another unremarkable day. Peace and love to all. As the late Louie Goldstein would say, God bless ya'll real good.

Snuggie Magic

Christmas came early this year. Priya discovered the package before I had a chance to hide it. Actually, I guess I didn't look at the package very closely before I handed it to her and asked her what she had ordered. My mind is like a dying star in a lonely galaxy far far away.





It's like being hugged to sleep.







What fun! What fun! For the dogs too!




Wait a second, do I have this thing on backwards?

BABY ROSIE!

Had to post this cute picture of my baby niece, Rosalee, with Nan, her great grandmother. We get to see Rosie this Christmas and can't wait! Hopefully we'll get to see Nan before too long as well.

Tahiti and Moorea

So Priya and I recently got back from our romantic getaway to Tahiti and Moorea. We were in Tahiti for three days and then took a ferry over to Moorea for another four days. Here's a brief description of our trip and the islands.

Tahiti is the largest and most populated island in French Polynesia, though, by comparison, it's a little smaller than Oahu and considerably less populated (175,000 people compared to 800,000 people living on Oahu). The first thing you notice about Tahiti is the dramatically steep, green mountains that rise up into the clouds.














This is a picture of Papeete, Tahiti's largest city, as seen from our ferry returning from Moorea. Despite the few big hotels you can see in this picture, it's actually a quaint city...reminds me of a mix between a much larger Avalon (on Catalina Island) and New Orleans' French Quarter. It has sidewalk cafes, an open air market, and a certain sleaziness that would probably turn off some American travelers. Of course, everyone in Tahiti speaks French and/or Tahitian, with English being a widely spoken third language.

Papeete was cool but this vacation was all about relaxing on the beach.















Tahiti has almost entirely black sand beaches as it is a volcanic sort of place. (I wish I could say that I took this photo but I actually downloaded from Wikipedia...we somehow managed to not take any pictures of the black sand beaches.)

Our resort had one of the few non-black sand beaches on the island. We spent lots of time lying on the beach and around the pool at our resort. Tahiti is the kind of place where you can shamelessly lie around for days because, frankly, there isn't a whole lot else to do. It's a guilt free beach vacation in paradise.















Here's another picture of the same view at sunset. The island that you see in the distance is Moorea, which means yellow lizard.














We did manage to go on a half-day 4X4 tour up into Tahiti during which we saw some cool waterfalls and swam in a beautiful river. Here's a pic from that excursion.
















After our time in Tahiti we took off on a ferry to Moorea. Physically, Moorea is distinctively paw shaped with two nearly symmetrical bays on the northern side of the island that are separated by a mountainous peninsula. Here's what I'm talking about:













This aerial photo shows the two bays. You can also see them in these next two photos.














This is Cook's Bay, named after Captain Cook who, as we were told a thousand times, actually landed in Oponohu Bay and never went to Cook's Bay. Cook was not the first European explorer to reach the island but rather the third behind fellow Brit Samuel Wallis and Frenchie Louis Antoine de Bougainville, both of whom arrived in the 1760's. Wallis was ill and didn't stay long enough to make much of an impact. Bougainville and his men, however, had a good old time. They were greeted by the natives with outrigger canoes filled with fruit and women, the implication clearly being that the men were to each choose a woman of their liking and make sweet love. Bougainville's men happily oblidged. Many of them actually abandoned the captain and ran off with their native girlfriends. Surprisingly, Bougainville appreciated that the Tahitian's didn't have an "ownership society" like we got here in America, and tolerated a good amount of theivery as well as the looseness of the women.

Cook, however, was not as liberal-minded and destroyed some of the villagers' homes after a goat was stolen from his men. He also locked up some of the island's chief's in order to get back a few of his men who had run off with their own native girlfriends. While Cook didn't seem to enjoy the people of Moorea, they were apparently amused by Cook and often stole things from him only to give them back a few days later. It must have been love-hate relationship because Cook returned to the island twice and was warmly welcomed on both occassions, or so we were told.















In this picture, taken from the same spot, you can see Oponohu Bay.

Moorea is maybe 1/3 the size of Tahiti and has only 16,000 residents. It takes about an hour and half to drive the one road around the entire island. Actually, there is one other road that goes up to the lookout from where these pictures were taken. From there you can hike out into the island's jungles. We did exactly that and found some cool stuff, including ruins of several old temples and this monstrous banyan (or banyan-like) tree. It's hard to judge the size of the tree from this picture but it was easily 30 feet around. I climbed it a little before Priya made me get down. Oh to be a kid again.















Okay, so the interior of Moorea is cool, but the main attraction is the warm turquoise waters that surround the island and all of the cool stuff that lives in the water. The picture at the very bottom of the blog is the view from the end of the dock near our bungalow. This next picture is of Priya looking serene on the "dock" of our bungalow.













The little buoys in the water are marking a coral garden so that kayakers don't bump into it. There was great snorkeling all around our bungalow. Priya even got into it and she generally doesn't take to swimming.















This is another picture of our resort in Moorea. Again, not a bad place to lie around.

Other highlights of Moorea included feeding sting rays, swimming with black tipped sharks and eating some delicious fresh seafood.














The rays are not at all afraid to swim right up to you. In fact, they hover around like pigeons waiting to be fed...like demonic water pigeons.

All in all, Moorea is one of three most breathtakingly beautiful places I have ever been. (The other two being Kaua'i and Rocky Mountain National Park.) I would live on that little island for the rest of my life if Priya would come with me. Maybe if McCain wins I can convince her.



Someday.

Solid moves below!

For your viewing pleasure! And I think Iguodala does need to prove himself in the post-season.

MORE NBA MAILBAG

After the Gold Rush co-founder Zupan Jam weighed in on my NBA starting five:

"The only weakness really lies with Mr. Prince. I would consider replacing him with Shawn Marion or Gerald Wallace. They are (nearly) as good defenders and they have more offensive firepower."

ZP, I like your picks of Shawn Marion and Gerald Wallace. Both are great long-limbed defenders with lots and lots of ups. I thought about both of these guys for my starting five but settled on Prince because his skills are a better fit for a half-court offense. In my estimation, he's the superior passer, ballhandler and shooter of the bunch (though he doesn't shoot enough). Marion is an exceptional finisher, and Wallace is absolutely fearless in taking it to the rack, which is why he gets injured so much. But, I just don't see them being as useful in a structured offense.

Iguodola is an interesting choice, and may end up being the superior player to Prince on both ends of the floor. Some would argue that he's already there. But he still lacks a consistent jump shot and hasn't proven himself as a winner.

Mr. Hart,

Thank you for your feedback. I appreciate your interest in the blog. First, I want to make sure that you understand that I have picked guys who I think would make the best "team," not which guys I think are the best players at their respective positions. I agree with you that Nash is the best point guard in the NBA (although he's not young like you say -- he's 33, almost two years older than Billups), and that Lebron is the best small forward. Here's why they didn't make my team and Prince and Billups did:

1. Defense wins championships. I have assembled what I view to be a lock down defensive unit. Prince (and his seven-foot wingspan) is one of the two or three best perimeter defenders in the league, with Artest and Bowen. But, he presents less of a risk to commit murder than Artest, and is more offensively skilled than Bowen. He would be assigned to the opposing team's best offensive player, which would allow Kobe to focus more on his offensive game...much like the Scottie Pippen did for Michael Jordan. Duncan and KG are both 1st team all-defensive players on the inside, and Billups is the best defensive point guard in the league, without question. Kidd is comparable, but is hampered by bad knees. This group would simply demoralize teams on the defensive end.

Lebron and Nash are average to below-average defensive players for their positions (check out their scouting reports on ESPN.com). This team has plenty of offense (about 90 points) with just Billups, Kobe, Duncan, and KG. Adding another offensive dynamo has drastically diminishing returns, and would only screw up the chemistry.

2. On that note, chemistry. Since Kobe (as much as I hate to admit it) is the greatest offensive force/clutch performer since Jordan, I decided to build the team around him. Of course, he's not an easy guy to play with, so I had to pick players with whom he would jive. Billups, Prince, KG and Duncan fit the bill because they are unselfish and would never gripe about Kobe's 30 shots. At the same time, none of them would cower under Kobe's dominating personality a la Lamar Odom.

Again, Lebron, T-mac, Pierce, and Melo would have problems with Kobe's alpha dog persona and would want to see more of the ball.

Granted, I can't exclude Mr. Nash based on chemistry issues. He brings instant chemistry to every team. But I still don't think he'd be the right fit for this team. Why?

3. Offensive System: With five high IQ ballers and tremendous passing ability at every position, this team would be perfect for the triangle offense, which has brought Phil Jackson nine rings. Nash's unique and creative playmaking skills would be wasted in a structured half court offense and he would be a negative on the defensive end as compared to Billups. Billups is also a very comparable shooter to Nash from 3 point land and the charity strip, and with his size and strength, he can get to the hole whenever he wants. Make no mistake, he is a beast of a point guard.

This same analysis applies to Chris Paul and J-Kidd, who are better fits for run and gun style teams.

4. Experience: Kobe (3 rings), Billups (one ring), Prince (one ring), and Duncan (three rings). While KG has only been to the Western Conference Finals, he plays with homicidal intensity because he wants a ring so bad. He would really drive this team. Anyway, all of these guys would be confident against any team in any situation, and any one of them could step up and hit a big shot, or get a clutch block or steal.

By the way, Nash, Kidd, Lebron, Melo, Pierce, Dirk....zero rings. And Dirk absolutely choked in the finals last year. Nash has never even taken his team that far. One of those two may prove me wrong this year, but until they do, I'm sticking with my 8 rings.

5. Don't buy the hype. The Suns are a joy to watch. Steve Nash is a virtuoso with a basketball in his hands. But the Lakers took them 7 games into the playoffs last year (as did the Clippers). Granted, the Suns were missing Mr. Stoudamire. But the Lakers were starting Smush Parker, Kobe, Luke Walton, Odom, and Kwame Brown. That's right, Kwame Brown. Imagine what Billups, Kobe, Prince, KG and Duncan would have done to that team, or even this year's Suns or Mavericks. It would be ugly. Why? Because defensive is more important than offensive and you need a team that can get stops when it counts.

Hope that helps.

P.W. Howell
Senior NBA analyst for After the Gold Rush

P.S., I'm going to be sipping malt liquor and shooting off my handgun in the
streets of Los Angeles when O.J. Mayo leads USC to its first NCAA Championship next year.

The Clouded Sage

I can’t imagine being upset. You get mad. Then sad. But why sad? It seems that we’ve mutated. Our emotional constitution requires that we reconsider every interaction from the other’s point of view and calculate, with some unfortunate parameter of precision, how the other party probably felt.

The old cantankerous sort has configured this wretched device to have a minimal pulse. And the morbidly astute suffer as they see sorrow beaming from their friends’ eyes. And yet the reasonable man is unable to corner the appropriate degree of concern to be used as regular machinery.

A crass tale fills context empty atmospheres just as well as a grimace or scowl. But the recipient must decide to what extent these impulses should be filtered. And why is the recipient so responsible? Simply because she must discern the nature of the story teller or shape shifter – what was their intent. And again the blasted vision the recipient holds is to be considered time and again. All as part of a regimen precipitating the matter of choice and consequence.

Wouldn’t it be lovely if everything was instinct? But then what would friendship mean? And don’t forget the opposite is starkly evident. The smile and laugh bear some semblance of attitude and personality. Motion and commotion generate ferver within a bleeding cortex.

In sum, it is a matter of credibility! Outcome based preferences are easily redefined to be all-inclusive.

Yum Yum Land

If only every weekend were so nice. On Friday night, the jubilant J-Bird took the train up to LA with his special lady friend, Marina. I picked them up from Union Station at around 11:00 p.m. and brought them back to the homestead where we shared a couple bottles of red wine. On Saturday morning, J-Bird and I spent an hour or so at the golf course before picking up a pork loin and mojito fixings. Waiting for us at home was 2 dozen steamed blue crabs, cold beer and pink wine. For the next four hours, we picked crab, ate bbq and drank, all the while sitting on our deck in beautiful 85 degree weather. By 7:00 p.m., everyone was in a food coma and ready for bed. It was at that time that J-bird and Marina bid their farewell. I slept for the next 12 hours and woke up to another beautiful day. Priya and I ate pork loin and egg sandwichs for breakfast. The sound of our kisses filled the canyon until the sun set again.

These are the days that make all the rest worth living.

Dreams? Yes dreams. Mostly mine are too disturbing to pass along. I can’t properly embellish the sensible features of them without invoking goblined imagery too obscene and grotesque for most sensible folk to suffer thru. But here’s a dream I had the other night.

I sat in the living room. The walls had been covered with striped felt. Maroon. Then green. And again maroon. Something from the bohemian markets in San Francisco. Two children burst from my abdomen. They were screaming in garbled and synthesized voices. The torn flesh and stretched membranes covered parts of their bald heads. Anger and angst forced them to clench their fists around my dangling interior organs.

All the while I sat. I drank cognac from a large snifter and gently rocked when the fan passed. Really I was enjoying the trumpet music she had brought back from India. The door opened. She had returned. The children shut their eyes and dove back into the gaping wound at my abdomen. The flesh sealed and the scar melted into the remaining portion of my tummy.

In three words or less I would describe the dream: Fucking beautiful.