It’s been a pretty long summer. What with the trips to Germany, rehabbing the achilles, working things out with Vanessa and signing a 2-year $48 million dollar contract for being awesome, it’s been a grind. It makes you prioritize what is important, though.
The Clippers wanted to cover up our banners. I’m an only child, but if I had to share a room with a hypothetical brother, I’d make him sleep in the hallway. If I was younger and couldn’t beat up my stronger, better brother and my parents ran my life like an American Apparel sweatshop, I’d siege him. He’d have to eat lead paint chips to survive and when he was incapacitated, I’d make my move.
There’s no way I’m sharing an arena with another team if the city likes them more than me. It’s time to grow up Clippers and do your own thing. Go to Anaheim or something. Cover up the banners all you want but you can’t cover up your true identity, your spirit animal — the Dodo Bird.
We beat them on opening night, of course. Was that not the most predictable thing since Nick Young not passing, ever?
It’s funny how people think things change. They don’t. Things just get worse. The Clippers suck. They’ll never be LA’s team. It’s physics.
Speaking of which, I’m starting to think people are creating dirty rumors about me cheating. I don’t cheat. Ever. Look, you can’t question my work ethic. Do we really even have to go there? I’m tireless. I do what it takes, but I’m not stupid.
Bill Simmons is always trying to snidely infer that me going to Germany to get my blood put in a laundry machine is cheating. Uh, no. I love their beer. That’s why I go. They’ve got those purity laws that keep everything the way it should be. We put a shit-ton of GMOs in our beer. Sorry if I just want water, barley and hops. A low-gravity beer with a high IBU? Sure why not? Corn and high fructose syrup of the like? NO THANKS.
I’m guilty of liking a good home-brew and that’s it. I’d rather go to Germany than Portland, obviously, because have you ever been to Portland? It rains all the time and everyone looks like Kevin Love. Thanks, but no thanks. Plus, what with Fukushima and such, I hear all the nuclear devastation is coming down in the rain. I’m out. Just give me sun and sausages all day.
I have tons of money and it’s mine to spend however I want. Perhaps you forgot I received a lump sum of $24 million this year, before I signed my extension with half an achilles?
If I want to put my knee-blood in a laundry machine whilst I’m in Germany drinking weisbeers, I have the right to do that. It just gets more oxygen up in it.
I brew my own, by the way. I started this off-season when the ‘chilles was hobbled. It’s fun, once you get the hang of it.
That first time you hear the hissing, bubbly sound of the yeast working its magic on your wort-mix is a dream come true — it sounds like the collective championship hopes and dreams of the Boston Celtics fizzling out in the 4th quarter.
But back to cheating. Who is going to remember my 6-24 in the NBA finals if it turns out I took steroids or HGH or whatever? It ruins my legacy forever. I care about championships. I got more than Paul Pierce. Kevin Garnett too. Don’t think I forgot you either, Shaq. LOLZ.
Who cares about 6-24, Simmons? I don’t give you a hard time for never writing articles anymore. 6-24 was still good enough to beat your whiney little Celtics. “But we didn’t have Kendrick Perkins, he sprained his ACL!” That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. Less substance than a Nick Young box score. Okay, but seriously, I like Perk, even if he kind sucks now. He’s a good guy. I don’t know why people are giving him such a hard time. He’s a winner, at least.
More than I can say about Dwight. Dude can’t even hit a free-throw. I’m sure you’ve never heard this Dwight, cause you’re still under 30 and you have more kids than Shawn Kemp, but just wait. In the case of making free throws it’s true — It’s just not that hard.
Reading all this stuff about me not being able to come back from my injury is stupid. I’m not old. Nerd glasses and whale patterns be damned, I’ll pull off the black on black semi-tux thing without a bow-tie like it is no thing. Try that Russell Westbrook.
Anyway, I gotta run. Picking the daughters up from practice at the JCC in Irvine. God bless that place.
— Mamba Out