January 22, 1999

By Morgan Carlson

The NBA will play this season, which is great news for the following people:

- the owners of the teams, who were coming dangerously close to having to put off buying another third would country due to a lost season.

- the players, who were having trouble finding new underaged girls to defile without their team's transportational fees.

- and, of course, the legions of armchair Jordans out there, who require the NBA to fill the void in their lives now that professional sports have made them politically, emotionally, and sexually impotent.

I, for one, don't care much for the NBA. The fans get ten times as worked up as the players, for reasons I don't quite fathom. It'd be better if the teams were composed of angry street youths and obese middle-aged men, the two REAL supporters of the NBA.

"A large, bald middle manager takes the pass from an abandoned ghetto child with a chip on his shoulder..... passes it to a scrawny cashier with a "NBA Superfan" T-shirt.... he shoots.... ohhhhh, he was stuffed by one of Dennis Rodman's seventeen illegitimate children......"

See, if NBA players made regular salaries, I wouldn't mind so much. But why should some pituarity case make millions for punching people on the court, while inner-city teachers have to save pocket change to pay for Kevlar armor? Hell, I'd like to see those NBA softies play a gang of hardcore street hoopsters in a no-foul contest..... they'd be running for the hills like Limbaugh rushing towards the snack aisle.

Actually, I'll miss Jordan.... he always seemed like a nice guy, and he was - gasp - married, rather than chasing teenage girls and what not. Charles Barkley - who once threw a man through a glass window at a bar - will now be forced to destroy property with a 24-second shot clock running. And a legion of college washouts and tired veterans will warm the bench in style, making 1.5 million a year for congratulating the good players and drinking Gatorade.

Some White Guy: "Way to be, Ewing!!!"
Ewing: "Shut the fuck up and drink your juice, fool."
S.W.G.: "Um, okay. Can I have your autograph, then?"
Ewing: "The fuck? Dude, we're on the same team!"
S.W.G.: "My kids think I'm lying when I say I'm in the NBA."
Ewing: "White people."

So let's toast the NBA, where drug-toting millionaires can be free, and where we can pay hundreds of dollars for our kids to see them. Amen.

©1999, Morgan Carlson