I'm asleep in an Enchanted Freakin' Forest. King LeBron, well he don't give a fuck.

After the past 36 hours of NBA politikin' I was really looking forward to some good old fashioned Bball, and instead found a a pile of poo in the Q. Yes, thanks to the Nets throwing the ball around "all willy-nilly" and eventually finding the bottom of the basket on enough occasions to score more than the Cleveland Floating Turdaliers I discovered not a basketball game and, in lieu, a more shit-tacular game than even the previous in this series of dubious regard/honor. For the team that wins this series, I wish you the best, you're going to need it and your predicament reminds me of a hooker fucking the football team to become the prom queen. Have fun with what the Pistons are going to do, you can tell yourselves you've already felt it, but you'll still be shocked. Meanwhile, in the night cap to this awful eve of pro ball, The Suns overcame nothing and now face the ugly prospect of having to win for a SECOND time in SA after flubbing things up in the fourth quarter. Honestly, Amare/Boris aren't even to blame, the Sols did not show up in clutch time. They had to face the reality of NO giant offensive and dynamic presence and could not swallow that. somewhere, I know, Gregg Pop is getting rubbed down and jacked off by a call girl of ill repute...Welcome to San Antonio vs. Utah Yazz. The East, as if we should fucking care, is still a cluster fuck. Have fun.