Allen Iverson To Nuggets; NBA Still Full Of Spoiled Assholes

Allen "The Answer" Iverson was traded today to the Denver Nuggets for Joe Smith, Andre Miller, and two first round draft picks. In other news, does anyone really give a shit?

I used to wait eagerly for big name deals like this to occur, and track where players moved as their clubs shuffled their payrolls to try and make a push at the playoffs. I don't know when I became so jaded at basketball, but I can narrow it down to between 2000 and 2005. I was on the edge of my seat for the Lakers' first of three recent championships, actually choosing to STAY LATE at work to listen to the game over the internet when they won. Last year, my favorite player, Shaquille O'Neal proved to the Lakers that it was a mistake to let him go, and I barely caught ANY of the playoffs.

Basketball has lost any of the artistic merit it used to have. Gone are players like Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, Oscar Robertson, John Stockton. No one makes game winning 15 foot jumpers anymore; players either feed the ball to their big man who slams his back into the man "guarding" him until he's close enough to crunch the ball home, or they throw up a three at a 26% clip. Ho Hum.

58 days until pitchers and catchers report...

OK, kids....

Leaving town for a day. I should be back by tomorrow night, but you know how bachelor parties can get :)

If you're going to have a party, clean up afer yourselves.

Peace

Kenn

zzzzzzz huh?

Hey, guys, when I said let me sleep, I didn't mean for a week!

Anywho, nothing much to report thus far. No new hysterical comedy musings, no amazing advancements, no earth shattering news.

My Illness is still kicking my ass, and my neurologist says there is nothing wrong with me (in a neurological sense) so the mystery of the dying banker is still a mystery. Zoinks, Scoob!

Tomorrow is my buddy Charlie's bachelor party, for which we are all trucking out to Atlantic City. Here's hoping ym lack of concentration doesn't affect my Blackjacking skills...

I've been out of work since Monday, because a tired and unfocused banker is a mistake making banker. My cocktail of vitamins, sleeping pills and Aleve continues to bear limited fruit.

Christmas is coming! Stay tuned for my Christmas list!

Spent...

Shh!

Let him sleep...

In The Name Of All That's Holy....

Because we're lazy, forgetful bastards, my brother and I forgot to get dog biscuits from the store today. As we were nearly home, and I needed to stop for gas, we went into the Hess in Center Moriches, where my brother picked something up for the dig. They had no biscuits, so instead we went to the Beef Jerky isle and picked something that looked like the dog might like it.

Pickled Sausage? Pickled Sausage? Who the fuck eats this crap? My brother opened it up and immediately quoted a line from Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgandy... "It smells like Big Foot's Dick!"

The stink was so bad that I cupped my gasoline soaked hand over my face to get away from it (which reminds me of my next lesson; don't try to pump 11 gallons of gas into a 10 gallon tank.)

I feel bad for the dog, who will doubtless be outside at 1 a.m. yelping as his ass is seared by the remains of this devil snack.

Poor, poor dog.