Happy Thanksgiving...

While at the gym on the morning of this festive holiday and feeling depressed that there were no good-looking broads to gawk at (the pathetic clientele looked like extras from "The Walking Dead") I was watching the latest news on the screens in front of my zombie treadmill and it seemed everyone was up in arms because the Northeast was hit with a bit of a storm that delayed and cancelled flights all over the Northeast. Poor babies. Nothing worse than watching a bunch of middle-aged lard-asses fuming that they have to wait for their flights a little longer than expected at the airport. 

I'm sure grandma doesn't mind, as Thanksgiving for her is always the same. Nothing like being verbally abused over her age by a pathetic bunch of worthless relatives and smart-aleck, sexually inappropriate kids"twerking" all over the newly installed beige carpeting that makes her living room look like an undertaker's reception area.

She'll also be looking forward to being inundated with cranberry sauce belches and turkey farts from racist Uncle Ned, who's still pissed off that his job was sent overseas because a bunch of gooks in China will work for slave wages and no benefits just so his plastic enema bag can be sold at Walmart for less than five bucks for a package of three.

Meanwhile, grandma Gladys is having a hard time basting the turkey with embalming fluid and trying to wrap the inside with barbed wire (makes for a nice surprise when you bite into it) from the comfort of her motor scooter, which has a reclining leather seat so she can relax while cheering on the rednecks who hunt wild boar and manufacture moonshine on reality tv. Don't forget these scooters come with an optional Kevorkian feature (patent pending), a hinge you can attach to the arms of this rolling sarcophagus so that a medically assisted suicide via an IV mixture of scopolamine and rat poison is only minutes away. Makes a great stocking stuffer for that septuagenarian loved one who's outlived their usefulness, especially if they are as sick and tired of you as you are of them.

Then it hit me...if these motherfuckers can't get home for the Holidays, maybe this little hiatus will do America some good. Nothing says bloated, entitled, gastronomic goonery more than Thanksgiving. Nobody gives thanks for anything because everyone's way too angry at someone or something. If it's not the politicians they voted into office, it's the rival political party. If it's not them, it's the minorities. Somehow, these people feel they are not getting their fair share of the American Dream (which is becoming more elusive than a shaved, Vaseline-slathered gerbil)  for being hard working, law-abiding, apple-pie eating Americans because someone undeserving is taking it from them. To these people I say "now you know how the Native Americans felt when your diseased, baloney-assed ancestors landed on Plymouth Rock and proceeded with the most comprehensive and surgical mass genocide of an indigenous people the world has ever seen".

So on this day that we so gracelessly take for granted, let's send all the fat lardass freaks back home where they came from. Instead of spending time with family, go see your local gastroenterologist about financing that long overdue vertical banded gastroplasty. Since the food industrial complex lobby has Washington by the balls, let's not keep these fuckers from purchasing boxes of homogeneous processed food-let's keep them from physically being able to ingest it. It's the only way this madness will end. Americans are so fat they've managed to turn Thanksgiving into Russian Roulette with a turkey leg. How the fuck this happened is beyond me, but that's what happens when you give mediocrities an sense of superiority they've done nothing to earn. Just because you're American doesn't make you special.

When I tell people from other countries that the average American is so fat they have to have their stomachs stapled to keep from eating, they look at me aghast. In countries where people are thin because they don't have access to proper nutrition, they can't understand why Americans cannot control their appetites while eating so much crap. What they fail to understand is this is a country where binge-eating is a sport and anorexia and bulimia are fashion trends. Go figure.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!!! I'd like to send a heartfelt thank you to all the fat, racist bastards out there who've turned American Exceptionalism into the biggest existential joke this side of the My Lai Massacre.

Whatever you do this holiday season, please keep it sportsmanlike!!!

The Alex Rodriguez Follies...

There is no doubt Alex Rodriguez is a cast iron asshole, but one has to admit a certain admiration for this teflon prick. From the outside, nothing seems to bother him. He gleefully proclaims his love for the game while single-handedly attempting to ruin it. He professes his love for his teammates while allegedly throwing one under the steroid bus. His attorney goes on ESPN citing all manner of improprieties by Yankees management and medical staff while remaining oblivious to the damage his own client has caused. What's worse is his effect on the team. This is setting a horrible precedent going forward, but the truth cannot be denied-the Yankees are a better team now that he's back, and more fun to watch. Here is the laundry list of transgressions thus far-

1) While rehabbing in the minors, Rodriguez tells everyone he's ready to play without receiving official clearance from Yankees medical staff, prompting general manager Brian Cashman to publicly issue the outrageous proclamation to the injured third baseman to "Shut the fuck up". Rodriguez then gets a medical evaluation, without the team's permission, from a doctor who claims he's ready to play without ever examining him in person.

2) During his last game in the minors, he holds a press conference and claims a conspiracy to get him out of the game so the team won't have to pay the remaining 100 or so bazillion dollars they owe him over the next four years. When pressed for details about who these parties are, he says he can't say but it should be obvious to everyone who "they" are, meaning the Yankees in cahoots with MLB commissioner Bud Selig.

3) It has been leaked to the media that someone in Rodriguez's "camp" ratted out two players involved in the Biogenesis scandal, Ryan Braun and (get this) Yankees utility catcher Francisco Cervelli. There is nothing more despicable than someone ratting out other players to save his own skin, but when one of those players is a fellow teammate, I don't understand how or why the team could possibly rally around this insufferable douchebag.

Note to Rodriguez-next time you go to an anti-aging clinic, make sure the owner doesn't look as aged as this. Could be a sign that something is wrong...

But rally around him they did. During their latest road trip to Boston, Red Sox pitcher Ryan Dempster decided to take the law into his own hands and mete out some frontier justice by purposely throwing at A-Rod not once but four fucking times, for which he received a 5-game suspension. The plate umpire, who should have been suspended along with Dempster, gave both benches a warning instead of throwing this asshole the fuck out of the game. When Dempster finally got around to dinging Rodriguez, you could see A-Rod mouthing the phrase "What the fuck..."

The Yankees got the last laugh, beating the Sox two out of three games, with Rodriguez coming alive and hitting a couple of home runs, one deep to dead center a la Dave Kingman. While Dempster was taking target practice at A-Rod, his teammates came to his defense and told him to hit one out and keep it moving, which he did.

As for rallying around Rodriguez, both Robinson Cano and the newly acquired Alfonso Soriano have been hitting the leather off the ball since his return, and with 35 or so games left the Yankees may be, thanks to another possible Red Sox implosion, looking at another playoff appearance after being left for roadkill just a few weeks ago. This while everyone was saying (me included) how washed up A-Rod looked during his minor league stint.

4) Rodriguez is alleged to have paid for Bosh's lawyer, a retainer for $25,000. Rodriguez attempted to wire a further $50,000 which was rejected, according to Susy Ribero-Ayala, Bosh's attorney's spokesperson . This is what MLB believes to be witness tampering to get Bosh to be quiet.

5) Rodriguez lawyer Joseph Tacopina has gone on an unprecedented rampage against Yankees management. He has accused them of withholding the MRI results of Rodriguez's hip last October from the player, stating that the Yankees, everyone from the owners down to the manager, knew the extent of his injuries and never told him. This was the reason for his disastrous post season performance. He continued to play with a torn labrum in his left hip that lead to his latest surgery without knowing how badly he was hurt.

The strut of a douchebag, as presented by Vince McMahon and perfected by Alex Rodriguez-

I've come around on A-Rod. I despised him, but now I see the schadenfreude that has come to bite Bud Selig right in the ass. He impotently presided over the biggest steroid freakshow this side of the East German Olympic teams of the 1970's and behaved as if nothing was ever amiss. By the time he got around to doing anything about it, the power surge petered out on its' own. Marl McGuire retired, Sammy Sosa slithered irrevocably into oblivion, and Barry Bonds was sent packing with very little fanfare after breaking the most hallowed home run records there were to shatter.

The owners loved it when the money poured in and the stadiums were packed full of fans despite the fact that baseball had turned into an even more shameless spectacle than professional wrestling. But no one seemed to care then. I certainly didn't, and I still don't. Now Selig, after being showered with a big-money contract to continue his reign of stupidity, wants his legacy to read that he was the commissioner to get "tough" on steroid cheats. Too late for absolution. He will go down in history as a dumbed-down version of the UCI's "Fat" Pat McQuaid. The only difference between the two being the egregious salary discrepancy. Selig got paid way out of proportion to his expertise, but that is what baseball is like-a good old boy's network where complicity trumps competence every time.

A-Rod hawking his latest children's book called "The Man Who Took Steroids And Laughed All The Way To The Bank"-

So the Yankees get played by an even bigger asshole and liar, and a Latino at that. Nice to see one of ours stick it to the man, and stick it to him hard and deep, way up the Yankee's collective asses. This is why I now profess my undying love for the man who has made a mockery of the sport. He's been a fraud from the very moment he stepped onto the playing field as a rookie. Rodriguez has, by some accounts, been a steroid user since high school, and has forged a legacy that no other player will touch-how good could he have been if he played on the proverbial "pan y agua" regimen? Nowhere near as good as he turned out to be, that's for damn sure. Steve Austin, meet Alex Rodriguez, the $6 million Dollar Asshole once he ties Willie Mays' home run total.

During one of his ridiculously smarmy press conferences, Rodriguez professed to wanting to rid the sport of PED's. He attempted to do his part by ingesting so many steroids there would be nothing left for anyone else. He even reached out to Victor Conte of BALCO fame to get advice on what he could "legally" take to enhance his performance. And we all know Conte built his nutritional supplement empire on carb drink mixes and Fred Flintstone multi-vitamin chewables-

A-Rod is a lot like Reggie Jackson-as unapologetic and remorseless during the bad times as he is self-congratulatory in good times. And why shouldn't he be? He's the pretty boy we all wish we were, with the paycheck commiserate with his prodigious talents. We all played a role in creating this monster, this remorseless egomaniac without the conscience to feel even the most fleeting pangs of guilt. Derek Jeter may be the heart and soul of the Yankees, but it will always be Rodriguez, the most loathed player in modern american sport, who drives us to watch the game just to jeer him on.

For those people who want him gone, think again. He's going to be our collective national nightmare for the next four years regardless of how long his suspension lasts. I am positive the arbitrator will not uphold the 211 game ban, which at the time included all remaining games for this year and the totality of next season. That's not happening. It will be shortened considerably. And while he and MLB battle it out in the court of public opinion, Rodriguez just passed St. Louis Cardinals legend Stan "The Man" Musial on the all-time rbi list and is now 6th all-time in that department. He also hit his 650th home run. Ten more and he equals the great Willie Mays. When this happens he gets a bonus of $6 million dollars, putting his 2013 salary at $34 million. WOO HOO!!! Watching this transpire has made a boring baseball season that much more exiting, and it hopes to get better if the Yankees get to the playoffs.

Because there is nothing better than for baseball fans to root against the Yankees when it counts-during the postseason. The playoffs wouldn't be the same without them and the sporting world's most insufferable prick.

Film Recommendation of the Week...

Beware of Mr. Baker
Release Date-November 28, 2012.
Running time-1 Hour 40 Minutes.

Drum legend Ginger Baker is featured here in all his ragged, self-indulgent glory. As a documentary, this film scores high marks for getting it absolutely right, focusing on the subject without veering into sentimentalist tripe or anarchic chaos. This seemed a tall task given that in the very first scene we are privy to Baker breaking the nose of filmmaker Jay Bulger for having the audacity to tell him he was off to interview the people he's left behind like so much residual dust back in jolly old England.

The human shrapnel from Baker's life is legendary. He has abandoned wives, children, and has been kicked or chased out of virtually every country he's lived in. He suffered years of heroin abuse, grossly mismanaged his money, and at the advanced age of seventy-three, when most people who are fortunate enough to still be alive should be enjoying their golden years, Baker is currently on tour only because he's so fucking completely broke. He suffers from degenerative arthritis and needs medication just to be able to get around. But he still has the energy to piss people off and be a complete and total asshole, which ironically seems to be his only saving grace.

Cream during their heyday-

Baker on the skins-

Baker interviewed for the documentary in his then-home in South Africa-

Baker, despicable character as he is, must be remembered for being the driving force behind the 20th Century's seminal rock band Cream. The trajectory of their meteoric rise and catastrophic fall took a little over two years to complete (July 1966 to November 1968, officially ending with the historic farewell concert at the Royal Albert Hall in England on November 26th of that year), but their influence lives on. As it should, considering that the wankers who dare call themselves rock bands nowadays can't hold a candle to bands like Cream. Baker, along with bassist Jack Bruce and guitarist Eric Clapton, were rock's very first power trio, the idea behind this concept being you start with three bad motherfuckers and you go out and kick ass. This is exactly what Cream did. During their brief spell, ass was kicked in abundance.

But, like everything in Baker's life, it didn't last long. There seems to be no reason for the cantankerousness except for the obvious fact that homeboy was born with a serious personality disorder. Either that or all those bombs the Nazis dropped on London must have fucked him up as a kid, or the loss of his father during the war. Whatever happened, it's too late to undo all the damage he's done to the people in his life. Still in all, we can still enjoy the music he left behind, though from watching the film one can only be left with a feeling of resentment that he didn't make the slightest effort to get along with some of the people he played with. We can only imagine what Cream would have developed into if they were together just a few more years.

This film captures the man in his entirety-complicated, angry, intelligent, self-absorbed, incredibly kind to animals yet dismissively brutal with his own children, and talented as all hell. Not the complete douchebag we've come to expect, but certainly cantankerous and given to fits of utter meanness that makes an interview with him like bathing in a pool of barbed wire. Whatever you think of the man, you must give the filmmaker props for capturing this genius completely, with all the contradicting traits that make him impossible to define yet fascinating to watch.

Jay Z and the Brooklyn Nets...

There's been a lot of buzz going around over rapper/entrepreneur Jay Z's foray into the sports marketing world. He's signed a couple of important athletes like Robinson Cano, Kevin Durant and others to his newly found Roc Nation Sports Agency. His street-smart ghetto mogul persona is the antithesis of someone like superagent Scott Boras, the prototypical conservative, granite-jawed white man who has reigned supreme in this field since the advent of the sports agent. But the question remains-is all the publicity just smoke and mirrors, or is there any substance to what he's done? What has been his legacy as minority owner of the Nets?

Jay Z's ownership in the Brooklyn Nets has been terribly overhyped. Before he was forced to divest his shares due to conflicting business interests, his stake was 1/50th of 1%. The most valuable part of the deal was the free courtside seats for him and his equally over-hyped, wigged-out, lip-syncing "chica plastica" wife Beyoncé, which he still gets to keep (nothing like mega-rich assholes getting freebies). Before we get into what he's gotten done, let's go over what he HASN'T accomplished as the bulbous-lipped aardvark face of the Nets franchise-

1) Luring A-List free agents to play in Brooklyn-

No. The revamping of the Nets' image, with new uniform colors, a brand new stadium in the heart of Brooklyn (easily accessible via public transportation-not a coincidence) and Jay Z sitting front row has done nothing to lure free agents of any magnitude to the franchise. J-Hova was supposed to get Lebron. That went busto. Instead of Dwight Howard, who had been screeching during his last two years in Orlando that he wanted to play in Brooklyn, the Nets were forced to sign the lead-footed, Frankensteinian Brook Lopez to a long-term contract. That's like getting stood up to the prom by a beautiful babe and having to take Matilda Gorilla as consolation.

They managed to re-sign point guard Darren Williams to a maximum level contract he clearly does not deserve, but only because he was already on the premises via one of the myriad of future-choking trades the Nets have partaken in, in which they have managed to trade away almost all of their first round draft picks for the next twenty five years. Though I'm sure he'll be glad to take all the credit, the only players of note the Nets have acquired were through a trade that netted three washed-up derelicts from Boston-Garnett, Pierce and Jason Terry-three stinking carcasses the Celtics were dying to unload.

Gangster's Paradise-Russian thug Prokhorov and ex-crack dealer Jay Z lunching with the mayor of New York...

2) Creating "Buzz" to rival and supplant the Knicks-

Absolutely not. No one gives a shit about the Nets, and for good reason. Who the fuck wants to watch, much less pay to see, a bunch of tired, perpetually injured veterans well past their best years tank in the playoffs and totally tune out their coach against a beatable Chicago Bulls team totally depleted by injury and illness? Those self-aggrandizing billboards on West 34th street near Madison square Garden proclaiming their arrival in New York City didn't work. The Knicks suck, but the Nets are worse. Message to Mikhail Prokhorov-this ain't Russia. You can't fly over here on your private jet fakin' the funk with your champagne bottles and your $5,000-a-day intergalactic space whores talkin' about competing with the Knicks and usurping their fanbase. Here in NYC you must WIN SOMETHING BEFORE YOU START TALKING THAT BULLSHIT.

3) Being Jay Z-

Egomaniacs don't come larger than those in the rap world, and Jay Z takes the cake like no other. He's modeled himself as a mogul whose mere touch turns everything to gold. First of all, he's lucky to have survived the streets of Brooklyn. He could have easily been shot or done serious jail time for drug dealing, his previous profession that he still brags about both in interviews and on his tiresome rap albums. Second of all, his success can be chalked up to luck more than anything else. If Notorious B.I.G., Tupac and Big Pun had not met untimely deaths all around the same time, Jay Z would have been relegated to the Instructional League of Hip Hop. After those cats died, the door was left wide open and he stepped through due to fortuitous timing. If anything, his career trajectory exemplifies the importance of being in the right place at the right time, which can supersede talent and hard work more than people realize.

See ya in Miami, son-

If it seems like I'm giving this multi-jillion dollar ghetto fabulous philanthropist short shrift, it's not because I'm "a hater", as the denizens of the inner city love accusing people who dare criticize public housing rats who make it big. It's because gangsters like Jay Z and Mikhail Prokhorov are beloved for one thing and one thing only-their lavish lifestyles, fuck how they made their money. Despite all their supposed business acumen, they can't street hustle their way to an NBA championship. Nor can they overspend their way to the top. Just ask the Steinbrenners, who as owners of the New York Yankees have spent over two billion dollars on player salaries over the last ten years and have one championship to show for it. ONE.

Putting together a championship caliber team takes knowledge, patience, the fine art of finagling the salary cap, and a willingness to develop talent. This last and most crucial aspect the Nets have shown absolutely no interest in. Just being Jay Z isn't enough to lure quality ballers to Brooklyn. Hell, I'd rather go to Flatbush Avenue for Junior's cheesecake than to play for the Nets, where I'd run the risk of tearing an ACL on a fast break tripping over Jay Z's humongous lips. The next time you see the Nets it will be exiting the playoffs in the early rounds. They are one injury to one of their aging stars from irrelevance, and given their collective lack of athleticism this will happen sooner rather than later.

Jay Z, the former crack dealer who dodged a major drug trafficking charge after getting pulled over on I-95 by Maryland State Troopers while headed to Baltimore with cocaine hidden in the sunroof of his car because the drug sniffing dogs of that particular police unit were tied up elsewhere, who shot his own brother for stealing his jewelry, whose own father succumbed to heroin addiction, paired with Russian Oligarch Mihkail Prokhorov, a man whose life story is full of the same type of brutish gangster behavior, albeit Russian style, to get the Nets to Brooklyn and have yet to fulfill even one iota of the promises they've made.

Jay Z certainly has done well off the publicity, as he is co-owner of the company that handles the Nets marketing and was allowed to christen the new Barclays Arena with a string of nine consecutive sold-out concerts. Prokhorov doesn't seem to give a flying fuck, either about the team or about how much money he has to pay in luxury tax, the percentages of which are so onerous it makes one wonder how one can spend so much money just to be mediocre. He hardly ever attends games and when he does, he watches from the sanctuary of his luxury suite high above the action like some detached feudal lord observing his serfs from the confines of his castle. But don't blame that on Jay Z. He's just happy being in the right place at the right time.

A young Jay Z during the crack epidemic of the late 1980's, sporting the ubiquitous drug dealer regalia of the time-

NBA News and Notes Pt.II...

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NBA News and Notes Pt.1...

Now that free agency is fast approaching and the Finals are winding down, it is time to access the action and what it means going forward for teams, contenders and pretenders alike. We'll start with transfer rumors that are making the biggest splash around the NBA.

The L.A. Clippers-

Stupid is as stupid does, and you can never put anything past Clippers owner Donald Sterling. This guy has mismanaged his team from the second he made the purchase, and has mishandled more quality first-round picks than any owner in league history. He's also a racist and a cheapskate, proclaiming out loud how proud he is that he underpays coaches, assistants, and players alike. Give it to him to have a small-market mentality in a big-market city.

As the NBA's premier idiot owner, he has stayed the course until a few years ago, when he drafted Blake Griffin and DeAndre Jordan and committed to keeping them. They make up a young, formidable front court that can run shit in the Western Conference for years to come if they commit to getting better. They also have a great point/shooting guard combo coming off the bench in Eric Bledsoe and Jamal Crawford. Why haven't I mentioned Chris Paul yet? Here's the reason...

Paul is a demanding point guard, who, despite his talents, has alienated his front court. Blake Griffin, the face of the franchise, can't stand him. But aside from his abrasive personality, here are two reasons Paul is at once their best player and their biggest liability-

1) No doubt he is one of the best point guards in the league. But he is looking for a max contract that will cripple the team going forward, given the financial obligations to Griffin and Jordan, with almost no hope of re-signing Bledsoe when he becomes a restricted free agent at the end of next year. Doesn't matter because he's on the trading block anyway, but letting Bledsoe, an up-and-coming point guard that many NBA teams covet, walk out the door due to salary restrictions will be a bigger mistake than anyone realizes, given the fact that...

2) Paul has almost no cartilage left in his oft-injured right knee. Signing someone like this to a five-year contract is suicide (see the Knicks and Amar'e Stoudemire). This has been completely underreported by the sycophantic sports media, and should be the Clippers' biggest concern. He has two-three years (and I'm being optimistic here) of high quality play left in him. His downward spiral will come sooner rather than later, and there are only so many trips to Germany he can take before that controversial blood platelet therapy many pro athletes undergo to prolong their careers stops working. The most egregious example of this is Dwayne Wade, who will be worth nowhere near his escalating contract when it ends in THREE YEARS.

Chris Paul has been making noise about playing alongside terminal head case and perpetually injured big man Dwight Howard. There are basically two teams that, again, given current salary cap restrictions, can make this happen-Atlanta and Houston. But with all that money being taken by two players, what type of supporting cast will these teams be able to afford? Especially Atlanta, who may not re-sign Josh Smith (addition by subtraction as far as I'm concerned, given his demands for a max contract, something he CLEARLY does not deserve. Not for lack of talent, but for lack of effort). Al Horford is going to demand big money on the free market soon-how are you going to keep these players if the Howard/Paul move goes down?

And why, oh why, would the Clippers remotely entertain a trade with Boston for coach Kevin Garnett and Paul Pierce? Garnett says he won't waive his no-trade clause if Paul Pierce isn't involved, which makes no sense. They both had one year left of good basketball in them, and that was three years ago. In the uber-athletic Western Conference, you don't get better by getting slower, older, and more unathletic. When Garnett gets the ball, one of two things occur that shouldn't. He either settles for a layup because he can't dunk anymore, or he settles for  a jump shot because he's no longer quick enough to get past his defender and drive to the basket. You don't trade DeAndre Jordan for a septuagenarian bum (Garnett)who is 5 years past his prime only to pair him with another geriatric hobo who has lost the little athleticism he ever had and can't guard anyone (Pierce).

I must give credit where credit is due. Sterling managed to get the coach he (and more importantly, Chris Paul) wanted, overpaid him ($7 million a year for three years) and agreed with the stipulation that the Clips could not include Garnett and Pierce from Boston for the next year. Moot point, seeing as both players have relocated to New Jersey in one of the most bogus multi-player trades in NBA history.

The Boston Celtics-

Every single move they're considering will make them a better team. They need to get younger and more athletic. Getting rid of Garnett and Pierce for DeAndre Jordan and Eric Bledsoe would have the best move Danny Ainge has pulled off since gathering the original "Big Three" for a championship run that has netted all of one title instead of three they should have won. Yes, Jordan is a project and needs work. but he's twenty-three. Pair him up with point guard Rajon Rondo and Bledsoe, get rid of some more bums off the roster, and you'll have a team that may be able to make some noise in the weak Eastern Conference besides "No Mas". They may miss Doc Rivers now that' he's the new Clippers' coach, but there are a few quality coaches out there who would be a good fit for this squad-Stan or Jeff Van Gundy come to mind. Jeff because he knows his shit, and Stan because he's just a funny motherfucker.

But the Celtics are loath to pay for another high-priced coach now that Rivers and his $7 million a year contract is gone. They'll probably give some assistant a chance so they can underpay him and get away with their rebuilding process by losing more games than they'll win. It makes sense for everyone involved. It also made sense buying out Paul Pierces' contract for $5 million, seeing as his trade value right now is severely limited, but they decided to trade him instead. Now that Garnett waived his no-trade clause and got the hell out of Dodge, he won't have to suffer the indignity of grinding out another worthless season for a team that won't win shit. Their run as "the Big Three" is over. It was over two-three years ago, but Ainge,  like many basketball executives, mistakenly wait way too long to blow up a team that was in dire need of an overhaul a while ago.

The Celtics are collecting first-round draft picks like a pimp collects ho's, and my contention is Rondo will be traded next. He is an elite, championship point guard who can command some serious offers even though he's coming off ACL knee surgery. His game was never predicated on athleticism, anyway, and he was always the unsung and under-appreciated member of the Celtics. There is no use and it makes no sense for a player of his calibre to spend the best seasons of his career losing, which is the equivalent of a hooker standing on the corner selling a piece of ass nobody wants to buy.

The LA Lakers-

This team has too many problems that cannot be corrected by one or two moves. First of all, Steve Nash was good five years ago, and the Lakers are paying him for the player he once was. Signing a 39-year old point guard who eerily resembles porn star Peter North was not the way to start luring Dwight Howard into re-signing with them long-term.I still cannot believe he has two years left on his contract.

Who moves to LA to dress like Pee Wee Herman??

Sooo, Steve Nash and Peter North are both Canadian and have never been seen in the same room together. Hmmm...

The bloated carcass called Metta World Peace still has one year left on what is probably his last NBA contract that no one in their right mind would take off LA's hands. Pau Gasol, one of the best big men in the league has been maligned, beleaguered and treated poorly by not only Lakers management and coaching staff, but by it's resident prima donna, who has suffered the type of injury hardly anyone comes back from, especially at his age. The mileage and wear and tire of being the NBA's most selfish and prolific chucker has finally caught up with him, and there is no amount of deer antler spray that will turn back the hands of time after 18 years in the league.

Gasol is attractive as an expiring contract for a team looking for veteran leadership during a late-year playoff push. He needs to go already, and so does Dwight Howard. Bottom line is this-he is wasting the best years of his dwindling athletic career on a team that cannot rebuilt unless they start sacking their bloated contracts, which will mean they will be a bad team for quite a long time. A trade that would benefit both team would be Howard in a sign-and-trade with the Clippers for Eric Bledsoe and DeAndre Jordan, but that won't happen because Donald Sterling has made it official that he will not do business with his rivals from across the hall.

The Lakers have to do something. The $2.5 billion dollar television contract they recently signed isn't going to help them with an $80 million dollar luxury tax looming this coming season. That is just too much money being thrown down the drain for such a bad, old  team that is going to be terrible next year. They need to start cost-cutting and rebuilding right now, and the best place to start is to amnesty Kobe Bryant's contract and have him sit out a year, pride be damned. After 18 years in the league, you cannot afford to build around Bryant, who has two years left if he comes back totally rehabbed after sitting out an entire season. He still gets his money and can come back to the Lakers, but at a hugely discounted price. Next would be a sign-and-trade for Dwight Howard, or just let him leave for nothing. Trade the expiring contract of Pau Gasol for a first-round pick in next year's draft with a team that is guaranteed to be in the lottery-either New Orleans or Charlotte. Blow the team up, suck for a year and start from scratch.

The Golden State Warriors-

They were a cute story and made an entertaining little playoff run this year, but that was as good as it got. Sounds condescending? That's because it is. They are not going to get any better than they are right now, and will probably get worse because salary cap restrictions will hamper their re-signing of key players Jarrett Jack and Carl Landry. I don't want to spend too much time on this, but their terrible contract (every team has at least one) is Andris Biedrins. He sucked when he was good during the Warriors' last playoff run, and he's terrible now that he can't give them any minutes of consequence coming off the bench. He does have a nice tan for a white boy, I'll give him that.But that's where it ends. And when your kingpin in the low post is David Lee, retriever of the least athletic 20-and-10 statline in pro basketball, it's only going to get you so far in the Western Conference.

Here is how to go backwards in the NBA-have a  breakout year with a new coach (Mark Jackson), add an unconventional star, the everyman, undersized guard who shoots like Pistol Pete, and some media buzz. I appreciate the talents of Stephen Curry, but with a very limited inside presence and no Plan B coming off the bench, the Warriors will remain what they are in the West-an amusing sideshow. And there is no guarantee Curry will see the end of his recently signed contract because of chronic ankle issues that may guarantee we've just seen his best.

At least they have a shiny, new stadium being built with (yet again) more tax payer dollars-

(under construction)

Film Recommendation of the Week...

The Doctor
Release Date-June 10, 2013 on NBA.TV
Running Time-1 hour, 10 minutes.

There have been many great players in the NBA, but not one has exuded the quiet dignity, class and unbridled inner city playground game than Julius "Doctor J" Erving. Erving was America's biggest nightmare come to life-a stylish brother with the crazy-ass 'fro who dressed better than any uptown pimp this side of Bad, Bad Leroy Brown. As articulate as an English Lit professor. Possessor of the brashest, loudest game in combination with the softest-spoken demeanor of any superstar athlete before or since. An OG badass like no other who had the coolest nickname ever. He propelled the game into the 21st. Century with his insane vertical leap. Most NBA leapers can either jump up or across-Doctor J was the first cat to combine both seemingly disparate disciplines with the style and grace of a Baryshnikov.

He was the brother you wanted to be like yet would never want to meet because you know after getting his autograph, he was leaving with YOUR girl on his arm. He was the athlete you wish your kid would grow up to be. Freakishly gifted-tall, with long arms and legs, and hands big enough to grab a tabletop end-to-end, he managed to exude a physical grace rare for men of any height, and he did so with almost no airplay during the best years of his professional career. He even made that ridiculous red, white and blue ABA basketball cool.

After bypassing his senior year of college at UMass, Erving became the face of the renegade upstart ABA basketball league, which challenged the hegemony of the NBA by doing shit like drafting players right out of high school (Moses Malone, for example) and letting their teams run the type of offenses that catered to creative geniuses like George "The Iceman" Gervin, amongst others. Before a forced merger with the NBA due to financial problems stemming from no league-wide television contract, the ABA came to signify what was cool about the 1970's. Unfortunately, a large percentage of Erving's greatest moves have passed into posterity without benefit of game footage. He left his best behind him after the NBA merger, but he was still Doctor J until the day he retired.

Take two of these and call me in the morning-

His gift lay his ability to reign in the wild streetball game of Rucker Park with the discipline necessary to play at the game's highest level. Unlike many of his lesser-talented playground brethren who still stalk the blacktops of the 'hood talking shit about their playground exploits, the good doctor made housecalls everywhere he went and kept it moving. He didn't fall into the trap of constantly talking that "back in the day" bullshit that has grown so tiresome it makes me want to vomit (yes, I'm talking about YOU, Pee Wee Kirkland).

For all the playground legends whose reputations exist only in the minds of those who can't stop talking about themselves, the bottom line is always the same-"I could 'ah been a contendah". Julius Erving WAS the real deal-the game, the class, the flash, and more importantly, absolutely no excuses. The reason why there was only one Dr. J wasn't so much because of his talents but because of his personality. He was able to pull it together and keep it together throughout his whole college and professional career-no scandals, no public, protracted arguments with coaching staff or fellow teammates (a difficult feat to pull off considering he once played with World B. Free, George McGinnis AND Darryl Dawkins on the same team) and no bullshit.

The young Dr. J serving his internship at UMass-

Slicin' 'em up in the 'hood-

Standing room only at Rucker Park-

Regardless of whatever went on in his private life, he will always be "The Doctor" to his legion of fans. I'm glad the documentary didn't go into any of that peripheral stuff-the financial issues, the children out of wedlock, etc. We don't need to rehash any of that crap. It's not the reason any of us go to Youtube.com to check out his highlights. We do so because, despite the fucked up world we live in, we can still revel in the achievements of someone like "The Doctor", a singular talent who exemplifies the best his sport has ever seen.

Babe of the Week for April 27, 2013 is...

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