On the Demise of Nutjob Terry, Sour Kraut, that rich fucker who voted for Bush, et al:
This was supposed to provide me with spiritual redemption for last year’s soul-searing loss to the ’Ricks—or at least enough satisfying memories to get me through an eternity in a lake of fire. This was supposed to be even more orgasmic than my weekend-long ménage à trois with Gong Li and Cate Blanchett (in full Galadriel regalia, of course) in Hong Kong.
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| Please stop calling me, ladies. I’m a married man now. But we’ll always have Hong Kong. |
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Instead, I’m left with mixed feelings about the humilating six-game defeat the 67-win, top-seeded ’Ricks suffered at the hands of the eighth-seeded Warriors. What could possibly cause me anything less than overwhelming joy, you ask, at the sight of the Mavericks ignominiously slinking, like the whipped bitches they are, back to the visitors’ locker room in Oakland after a premature playoff death? In response, I give you
Kind of (Ever So Slightly) Sucks
2. As far as I know, Mark Cuban still hasn’t killed himself. I was calling bookies after Game 1 to put money down on that shit. But it’s not losing the money that I’m sad about. I repeat my plea, Mark: make the world a better place by removing yourself from it. A classic example of addition by subtraction.
Do it, do it, do it!
3. The ’Ricks’ suffering wasn’t documented nearly enough by camera-wielding schadenfreudians. There should have been a crew assigned to each player, and two crews for Cuban. Hell, they could make an entire season of a reality show out of that. I’d watch religiously.
4. No matter how much one wants to hate Sour Kraut, one is faced with the fact that he seems like a decent guy. An embarrassingly soft decent guy by professional athlete standards, yes, but decent nonetheless. Any “celebrity” who hangs out with fans and allows himself to be photographed while supremely pissed (in the British sense) can’t be all that bad.
This is always worth posting one more time.
5. The Warriors caught me off guard, so the balloons, confetti, Chinese liquor, Amsterdam hookers, Cuban cigars, and Cuban effigy I ordered on Amazon to celebrate the ’Ricks’ elimination are still en route.
6. Jason Terry can always console himself with Jesus as an escape from the crushing pain of his reality. What a copout!
7. Hating such pitiful losers is a lot less satisfying than hating a fearsome opponent. How could someone hate George Dubya, for example? Oh, yeah, because his incompetence has completely fucked us all.
8. I like the only ’Ricks fan I know (because I generally don’t associate with losers) too much to act out the thousands of taunting fantasies I’ve had since last May. And most ’Ricks fans are such tools anyway that even if I could find anyone else in the Bay Area who would admit to being one, the taunting wouldn’t have its intended effect. It would be like insulting an orangutan’s mother: no matter how true it is that she picks ass-lice and eats regurgitated plantains, it would fall on deaf ears.
I’ll say it anyway: your mothers pick ass-lice and eat regurgitated plantains.
9. Some small, stupid part of me is humbly reminded of similar Spurs playoff disappointments of a bygone era and feels a twinge of sympathy. Whatever region of my brain feels that twinge is quickly lobotomized by the scalpel of good sense, of course, but it nonetheless renders my joy slightly more maculate. Or whatever the best antonym for immaculate is.
10. I have a soft spot in my heart for exercise bikes.
On the Spurs’ Victory Over the Denver Thugettes:
I don’t have a lot to add to the hundreds of thousands of words floating through the blogosphere on this subject. The Spurs did what they were supposed to, and they proved the foolish doubters wrong yet again. The Thugettes got physical with them, and for the thousandth time they showed that that shit will only win the occasional game against them, never a playoff series. I’ll give the Thugettes this much: from what I saw of their reaction to their elimination, they showed a lot more class than their coach, their fans, or the Denver media have generally shown. As much as I initially wanted to dismiss Carmelo Anthony as a punk when he first came into the league, I think he’s actually trying to learn and get more mature (despite that “chickenshit open-court shove,” I’ve seen several positive signs from this guy), and he’ll have a hell of an NBA career…at least as a scorer. If you want my advice on how to maximize your success, ’Melo, it’s simple: avoid the Spurs in the playoffs.
On the Spurs-Suns Series:
The 2007 Suns are better than the Suns team the Spurs dispatched with relative ease in 2005, but I think the Spurs will still be able to impose their will on them for the most part. TD is healthy and playing like the best player in the league
again this year, TP is playing better than ever, Findog is hot, Bruce (or Finley or Manu) should still be able to keep Shawn Marion from having his usual impact, and our current big men match up better with quick and athletic teams. And you know Manu is geared up for some big games, especially after ending the Nuggets series on the bench. Spurs in six.
On the other hand, if a large number of people download and properly utilize SpursDynasty’s Official 2007 Suns Voodoo Pack, we might just sweep these unfortunate bastards.
Bramlet, I’m the one Mavs fan that you referenced and I must say objectively that was one of the best posts I’ve read on SD. Retribution for the Mavs collosol meltdown was expected and I applaud you for sticking the finger in the chest rather than a knife in the back or a kick to the balls. My roots are with Dallas, but the ways of the underdog really excite me, so I can honestly say I’m looking forward to the rest of the action and if there are more cut aways to Eva L then you might get another Spurs fan by the time it’s all said and done.