Thursday, June 30, 2011

Chris Bosh likes Technology

DBSF was reading up on Chris Bosh's bachelor party, and the correspondent gets all "Hangover 3" because it was 4-days in Vegas. But, before DBSF bit on the party-hysteria bate he noticed two suspicious events. First, the bachelor part went to a magic show. Second, Mark Curry of Hangin' with Mr. Cooper fame was there.

Going to a magic show during ones bachelor party gives the event an ominously religious feeling. Not like, "Yeah I go to Temple/ Church once a week." More of the "so, I was talking with god last night" variety in the sense that the individual literally believes and expects you to believe--in fact, would be appalled at the thought that you possessed the slightest consternation much less genuine doubt/ concerns of possible psychosis--that they had a one-on-one back-and-forth conversation with their own personal god less than 12 hours ago.



As for Mark Curry. Well, DBSF will just say it--he's the black Dave Coulier. He's like the one thing--outside of the presence of the actual fiance to be and her mother--that could make an overtly religious bachelor party less cool. Him being there is like leaving the magic show to catch the end of an in-line skating half-pipe competition.



However, in the article there was a link to Bosh's Maxim photo shoot which he took part in prior to the 2010-11 season. DBSF's reaction to this televisual photo shoot was that his media rep needs to not only set-up these events, but also be there and advising Chris, and taking and destroying film when at his own discretion Chris, well, Chris shouldn't have been acting at his own discretion.

For example, he spends the first minute of the photo shoot fake eating an apple. Surely, this shtick was at the behest of the photographer, but here's where a media rep can apologize to the photog about the rapid demise of the newspaper industry and that yes, the media rep, understands that he--the photographer--was pulling Pulitzer's for photography with the NY Times twenty years ago, but this isn't the Bosnian War; this is just some 6'11" dude outside the Ritz Carolton on Biscayne Bay, and the whole purpose of the photo-shoot is to make 5'9" Italian sophomores at Rutgers with body dysmorphic disorder forget for 5 seconds who they are while taking a crap or riding the bus to class and think for just those 5 seconds that they're a multimillionaire teammate of LeBron James and Dwayne Wade. Hopefully, the thinking goes, that will entice them to patronize Davidoff cologne or whatever high-end polos Lacoste is pitching on the following page.

Then there's the look-under-the glasses thing Bosh is doing, which is a little too Dwayne Wayne for DBSF. And, that is no slight to Kadeem Hardison because Dwayne Wayne doing Dwayne Wayne is just right; when Bosh does it it looks like a mix between him needing to sneeze and him scanning a cruising spot. But, the highlight for DBSF comes around the two-minute mark when--in addition to reading and video games--Bosh announces that "I like technology", which, well, puts Bosh in good company.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Brandon Marshall--Needs Restrictions on his eHarmony Account

Former Denver Bronco and current Miami Dolphin wide receiver, Brandon Marshall, has encountered standard legal issues during his college and professional football career. He got in a fight/ resisted arrest during a Halloween party in college; was caught attempting to return stolen bed sheets to Burlington Coat Factory (link included to show that this one wasn't a DBSF creation); his Dad tried to run him over with his car (the Dad's car presumably); DUI; etc.



But, it's Marshall's encounters with ex-GFs and wives that has DBSF most concerned. For example, an ex-GF--who in Marshall's defense discussed their relationship a few years ago as if it were a money market fund or commodity she was going long on--and Marshall alleged that the other had inflicted physical abuse on her/ him after hours of fighting in 2006. A year later the same ex-GF accused Marshall of punching her and taking her purse at an Orlando hotel. A few nights after that police showed up when the two had loud--but, non-physical--arguments. Another five days later Marshall was arrested for domestic abuse and false imprisonment but this time in Denver (charges were dropped). (Editor's note: These are all separate police reports. This wasn't some single three-year event, like the War of 1812.)



For two months Marshall apparently exhibited restraint as it wasn't until June that the same ex-GF alleged that he threw a rock at the passenger window of the car she was in and then cut her thigh and punched her in the face. Charges weren't filed, which DBSF guesses probably contributed to Marshall allegedly punching/ choking/ black-eyeing the ex-GF three weeks later. Almost a year later in 2008 Marshall and ex-GF inevitably get in another fight--more mouth and eye punching (she being the recipient)--and he ends up falling on a glass table and injuring tendons and muscles in his right hand, which caused him to play the 2008 season without full feeling in his right hand. (Marshall initially claimed that the injury was the result of rough housing with his brother--kind of like that time Clint Barmes broke his collar bone either ATVing, carrying groceries or lugging dear meat given to him by Todd Helton.)



Presumably Marshall read something in the leaves as he and the ex-GF split-up in the Summer of 2008. In 2009 he gets engaged to someone else, and within a month they're both arrested for disorderly conduct after a fight gets out of hand. Marshall and that fiancee marry and exchange vows twice in 2010. Apparently, the wife had a little of the ex-GF in her--or, more likely Brandon Marshall has the same Brandon Marshall in him--as she was arrested and jailed two months ago for stabbing him during a fight (self-defense), which resulted in an ICU trip.



If you've lost count 6'4" 230lb Brandon Marshall has had to have police break up about a baker's dozen of his fights with women. It looks like in the most recent incident, his wife was abundantly clear w/r/t her approach to 'leveling the whole playing field'. Whether or not the new approach has influenced Marshall is still yet to be known (however, he's been involved in no police reports for two months), but--for Marshall's sake--DBSF thinks Dr. Neil Clark Warren might want to add a 30th dimension of compatibility to eHarmony that controls for "a penchant for hand-to-hand combat".

Thursday, June 23, 2011

2011 NBA Draft Actions & Reactions

Apparently DBSF's media pass to this year's draft was lost in the mail/ 8 General Mills coupons failed to appropriately incentivize the NBA's media staff.

The draft is sponsored by Kia. DBSF fancies that Hyundai and Daewoo blew their marketing budgets on the Carolina League's All-Star game.

Adele getting played before and after every commercial break--bigger white sisters haven't got this much love in the NBA since Olive Miller was playing/ going out 7 nights a week.



The greatest inhibitor of Kyrie Irving's assists per game average will be Alonzo Gee, Anthony Parker, and Anderson Varejao. So, the rim.

Kyrie's sideburns go about an inch beyond his jaw. And, a goatee? We're talking about a half inch of bare jawbone. Just close the deal already Kyrie--go beard.

Jay Bilas says Derrick Williams strength is that he can finish by the basket. DBSF has a feeling that dunking on Oregon State's 6'6" stoner-center, who has like two hallucinogenic mushroom tattoos, is a mildly different experience than attacking Dwight Howard at the rim.

Enes Kanter's hair flirts with his eyebrows. DBSF is calling for Olympic-style testing. But, rather than checking for doping DBSF requests investigating the presence of Teen Wolfism.

This year's draft hats possess a hologramic-LA Gear effect.



John Calipari watching Enes Kanter speak in his post-draft interview with Mark Jones has the same look you see Johns give when they're in the squad car after the under cover cop busts them for solicitation AND doesn't give them their $50 back. (It's evidence/ the cop's date money that night, bro.)

Who bought all these Eastern European kids their suits? They've been playing basketball in sandals their entire Lithuanian lives. Whichever investigator Google Searched "don't say nothing to nobody; especially the NCAA" in Jim Tressel's gmail account and brought down the Ohio State Sports and at time Academic Institution should look into this.

Cleveland picks Tristan Thompson #4 overall. There's a reason the Cavaliers are the Cavaliers. (And, it has nothing to do with no one in the organization finding anything wrong with it taking Baron Davis 8 days to fly to Cleveland after getting traded from the Clippers. Okay it has something to do with that too.)

I'm sure international players, like Jonas Valanciunas, love that ESPN's staff group all non-American players as a homogeneous group that views Dirk Nowitzki as a deity. Like do they know what Dirk's native Germany did to the rest of Europe over twenty or so years in the first half of the twentieth century?

Jan Vesely gets a kiss from his GF that said "no more mail order briding". Hold onto that thought sister. Jan is about to be introduced to segment of American womanhood that you and your babooshka's cinnamon apples (literally, cinamon on sour apples' they don't have much in the Balkans) could never match.

Jan Vesely (white) described as a high flyer gets compared to no other than JR Smith (black)? No. Dee Brown (black)? No. Clyde Drexler (black)? No. Tom Chambers (quasi-obscure white player)? Yes.

Jimmer Fredette is a lottery pick. Good to see white affirmative action is still in operation. Reparations for Cam Newton getting picked over that guy from Washington who makes Joey Harrington look like Jake Locker? Who are we talking about here?

From the look of excitement among the crowd of five-foot-sixers around the Morris brothers each time one gets drafted suggests there's a sufficiently large early twenty somethings entourage that just reached early retirement.

With the seventh pick the Charlotte Hornets select Bismack Biyembo . . . because the Charlotte front office never plans on working after 8pm EST as the Charlotte Long John Silver happy hour ends at 8:30 promptly. God forbid they ever start picking after the lottery. The front office will be paying that full $1.75 on Miller Lites and the free hush puppies? Forget about it.



Do you think Markieff Morris ever gets angry that his twin brother got to be named Marcus and not the other way around?

Every time Commissioner David Stern walks up to announce the pic the crowd boos him a la a Roger Goodell at the NFL Draft. DBSF can tell Stern wants to go up there just once and yell "I'm better than you. I'm better than all of you. All."

New York fans at the draft remind the TV viewing audience of the almost supernatural compulsion that leads humans to cheer against New York teams.

More to come on the rest of the first round and second round . . .

Monday, June 20, 2011

John Wall Goes All Mrs. Nick Cannon


Apparently John Wall said he prepared for his opening pitch before the Nationals game last week because he didn't want to embarrass himself, like former Wizard Caron Butler did when he dribbled a ball to home plate a few years prior at a Nats game.

But, what DBSF doesn't get is how Wall can average over 8 assists per game in the NBA, can dish no-look behind-the-back passes while going full speed on a fast break, and can hit teammates in stride on free throw line-to-free throw line passes with a defender in his face, but he can't time the release of a baseball so it projects at an even slightly parallel route to that of the ground.

This all got DBSF thinking that John Wall has a little Mariah Carey in that wind-up. At least Mariah can blame the heels; Wall even got hooked up with his own custom Nats jersey. A bad omen for the Wizards next year, DBSF asks? Then again it might position them well for the Jared Sullinger race to the bottom in 2012.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

DeShawn Stevenson: Circa Sunday Night Midnightish to Tuesday Night 10:30pm Central Standard Time



It happens all the time. Some Sunday night you're down in South Beach pestering LeBron James into 21 points and 6 turnovers and you go out to have a cocktail in celebration with a few of your mates then fast forward 2 days, 11 $500-plus bar tabs, 84 new friends, 16 new enemies, 29 forgotten or physically/ biologically impossible promises and a half-dozen costume changes--all of which you only learned about hours after having actually occurred--and you're arrested in a suburban Dallas apartment complex thirteen hundred miles West from where you took that first Grey Goose shot.

Of course, DBSF doesn't pass judgment as this is as common an occurrence as say the waning gibbous, but such unfortunate circumstances befell DeShawn Stevenson earlier this week. Two days of intense Marty McFly-time-traveling likely left DeShawn with minimal recollection (i.e., he knows he took off his shoes at one point to see if his credit card had fallen through his pocket into them but he doesn't know if it was day or night or if that was before or after he shook hands and bet a stranger $6,000 that the XFL would replace the NFL as the premier football league in the coming season). As such, DBSF will use his intuitive and investigative skills--the latter of which he earned compliments of TESST College of Technology via a 3-week mail order certificate degree in Private Investigating (in fact, DBSF was so pleased with the scholastic experience that he double-downed for a double certificate-er-major in LockSmithing)--to piece together how DeShawn's Sunday to Tuesday night transpired.

Sunday night from midnight to 5am was probably standard NBA Championship partying. You and your teammates get a roped off section of the nicest club in town, someone buys a $90K bottle of champagne and tips an additional $20K, groupies are poking holes in condoms in the bathroom and praying to God that the baby-sitter will fall asleep and not call like 50 times seeing why they're still not home yet, etc.

Around 5-6am the club is closing and all the rational or uber-horny teammates are heading back to the hotel seeing as having just finished a basketball game and a 100+ game season sleep is becoming increasingly seductive. But, not DeShawn. No. He had that fire in his heart and wasn't ready to wave the surrender flag to the party demons just yet.

After 5 or so hours of extreme power drinking in combination with the exhaustion associated with a three hour basketball game DeShawn is, well DeShawn is at a sketchy (e.g., illegal) after-hours club or party where all patrons and employees are under the influence of enough stimulants to eliminate a triceratop's appetite. Here is also where social cues should lead DeShawn to recognize that the night has reached its twilight (despite it being dawn) and he should shut down shop.

But, how can he tell DBSF? He's caught up in the excitement and the energy of the party. Easy, examine conversation. After ingesting myriads stimulants since getting off a double shift at the Hyatt, DeShawn's late-night colleagues are deep in the throes of a conversation on no other than their "brilliant" movie script, which inevitably deserves critical acclaim and instant blockbuster recognition--Lost in Translation meets Forrest Gump meets ET times the entire Fast and the Furious franchise.

Anyone with even minimal experience with abusers of stimulants knows that to carry on a 6am-8am conversation with said abuser(s), DeShawn would have had to been participating because otherwise one is trapped in the most asinine conversation where the stimulatee pontificates on the blockbuster script idea, which in fact is simply a combination of the plots of Short Circuit 2, Mighty Ducks and Cop and a Half closing with a scene for scene rip off of the last 8 minutes of Jurassic Park 2 (The Lost World).

Let's fast forward an hour or three. We can assume DeShawn is now hitting a grey zone. He is considering an IHop session but as all power-partiers know that ends the evening and this dude just won an NBA Finals against his arch nemesis, whom had Jay Z write a song lambasting him (DeShawn) when stuff got hot in Washington so what would you do?

As any marathon partier knows, for the truly epic 40+ hour party to persist sans-stimulants (cheating in DBSF's book; basically steroids for partiers), one must encounter the rare case of blind luck. At this point a teammate--likely Brian Cardinal--was driving to the airport to take the team plane back to Dallas when turning onto the interstate who does Brian see arm around the shoulder of a homeless man and sharing a bottle of Popov? DeShawn.

Brian scoops DeShawn, they catch the team plane where DeShawn proceeds to pass out the entire flight but not before ordering a shot of something "red spicy and tastes like bananas but not too much like bananas what time is it" and crashes out before the flight attendant can finish saying "pardon me".

By the time the plane lands and DeShawn wastes 2 hours and the Monday night of the entire flight staff looking for his hat (which he didn't bring on the flight) DeShawn refuses Jason Kidd's ride home because DeShawn claims--without any reason or information meriting his claim--to already have a ride. When said ride inevitablely never shows up as it never existed with the exception of a brief 8 minute window in his intoxicated brain DeShawn must decide on the next step as it is now entering 10 pmish on Monday night.

Obviously, the only logical step is airport bar. This is where the faintest memory of the bender remains for DeShawn because of the recovery that occurred during the plane ride (he spent 8 minutes trying to take pictures of children with his cell phone, which was actually the calculator he traded his cell phone for straight-up with the homeless man at the interstate ramp). DeShawn spends the next 6 hours making frenemies by A) buying everyone at the bar drinks (friends), and B) accusing patrons indiscriminately of stealing his wallet/ challenging the integrity of Tom Brokaw (enemies).

From about 2am to noon on Tuesday DeShawn has consumed such massive amounts of frozen Margaritas (with chasers of Grand Marnier) that even DBSF's exceptional telekentic/ detective powers are muted. Only thing DBSF can really pull from that ten hour window is that DeShaw spent between 4 and 6 hours taping episodes of Family Matters on a VHS he traded in for at a pawn shop for his $50K Cartier watch and then using the same tape and the same thirty minutes of film to rerecord each ensuing episode so the quality of the film was so poor by the 9th or 10th recording that Eddie Winslow sounded and looked exactly like Tom Selleck in Mr. Baseball.

From noon to about 9 or 10pm when the police were called DeShawn was essentially in a comatic state. He probably drank 2 or 3 Heineken cans and a strawberry daiquiri (which the bartender at Olive Garden didn't put alcohol in), and things got messy (i.e., peeing with pants secure around the waist made its arrival) and flagrant incoherent cussing emerged (DBSF feels that the term "shittlecock" achieved Lady Gaga top 40 rotation in DeShawn's vernacular). After that the police came, which meant it was bed time in Irving Central lock-up. Best thing is that after 48 straight hours of boozing, DeShawn slept through the entire 20 hours of holding and processing imposed on all misdemeanor offenders PLUS the additional 8 hours they make all young men wait in jail if they're black.

Monday, June 13, 2011

The Summer of DBSF's Discontent

The real tragedy of Miami losing Game 6 of the NBA Finals last night isn't that Bron Bron & Bosh didn't score any jewelry, rather its that non-MLB loving sports' fans (e.g., sports fans) have one less event to hold them over until football starts in late August. As a DBSF colleague of counter-counter-intelligence (so regular, run of the mill intelligence) pointed out after the NBA draft, we have baseball (or, as DBSF likes to pronounce it "bess-ball"), WNBA, and soccer.

As if there need be greater irony in DBSF's summer of discontent the soccer isn't even not the real kind that's played every four years but isn't the Olympics but kind of is the Olympics because who really gives a fart about the triple jump, save triple jumpers and immediate family members of triple jumpers? Rather, it's kind of like watching DIII basketball--undeniable quality effort, but deep down you feel that 2 weeks sans smoking (or, at least switching off menthols) and reducing beer consumption to a manageable 3 or fewer per night you personally would end the season in that league with some sort of plaque honoring you for individual achievement.

The irony in this already deeply ironic moment of personal DBSF introspection--and by irony DBSF doesn't mean funny, he means like the literal junior year of high school English definition of like the opposite happening of what was intended--is that the NFL doesn't even rub DBSF's marbles the right way anymore. Thanks to an epidemy of American malaise combined with juggernaut-marketing schemes run by big beer, big insurance, big private investment firms, and big mid-sized truck manufacturers the NFL has become overwhelmed by the idea of the NFL.

In other words, the NFL is becoming like a bizarre most photographed barn in america where it's popularity and appreciation is predicated not on the event but on the anticipation and obsession with what people think the event could be. In fact, DBSF believes that the Superbowl has only been played two out of the last six years. Those other four years were simply an amalgamation of Paul McCartney/ Black Eyed Peas soundbites, Tostitos ads, and pre-game commentary on what each defense or offense should do in the event the game were ever played.

In the end, this only possesses deep significance for DBSF and inner-DBSF (DBSF now counts his own personal self as 2 people starting in the 2010 decennial Census). So, until next fall DBSF will resort to regularly monitoring Twitter feeds from the likes of Brian Cardinal and Zaza Pachulia. Basketball's over; the Summer into early-Fall doldrums may commence.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Basketball is a Game of Runs/ High Drama in Game 6

Time for LeBron to show that he's not Jim Kelly or Scottie Pippen--both of whom in like the grand scheme of things are up there w/r/t best-case scenario in terms of life outcomes--or something. DBSF predicted a 24-8-9 (pts-assists-rbs) explosion for Bron Bron. Here we go.

--Mike Bibby doesn't add basketball value to the Heat. He doesn't add aesthetic value. Four-on-five can't be that much worse.

--Based on the promos for ABC's Fall line-up the network looks like it expects Google and/ or Netflix to conquer television sometime in August.

--Shawn Marion's goatee--uninspired.



--Tyson Chandler's flaming basketball tattoo on his left bicep was an epic decision in 1999. Well, kind of epic.

--Joel Anthony works harder on single possessions than the entire Washington Wizards' starting five does on entire West Coast road trips.

--Nowitzki totally gets the geometry behind the circumference of a hoop increasing with a greater arc. Doubt he ever needed to use the cosine or tangent function on his TI-81.

--Brendan Haywood is inactive for tonight's game. He was inactive for game 4 but still managed to plod around on the court for a couple minutes. Consummate Wizard.

--DBSF needs to double-check but he believes that Brian Cardinal playing in multiple games of a Final's series represents one of the 6 original signs of an impending apocalypse.



--The fact that 7'1" Tyson Chandler with those 4 foot arms can miss a lay-up is admirable. Admirable in the same way of people who beat drug charges because the cop showed up for court the wrong day.

--Somebody brought their three year old to sit court-side--great use of a $6,000 ticket.

--Brian Cardinal hit a three. A distant universe--definitely possessing complex lifeforms--instantaneously implodes.

--DWade goes down with a hip injury. Mike Miller TIME!!!

--JJ Barea will be an awesome fit with the Heat next season.

--Whoever designed the Maverick's mid-court mascot emblem has a long career ahead of him doing graphic design for the DLeague.

--Juwan Howard just made back-to-back baskets. DBSF is all of a sudden in the mood for some K-Ci & JoJo.



--Eddie House not hitting threes is a shorter, tanner Adam Morrison.

--Shawn Marion may have an ugly jump shot but its a beautiful upward chest pass.

--The three prerequisites of sitting court-side at an NBA Finals game: 1) don't watch the game, 2) text/ play Angry Birds the entire time, and 3) don't wear the complimentary t-shirt given to fans.

--Eddie House lecturing Mario Chalmers on how to guard JJ Barea is like Whitney Houston lecturing Marie Osmond on sobriety.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Sarah Palin Summons Harry Caray; DListed Reminds why you Should Read Dlisted


Visiting Boston on her One Nation tour Sarah Palin created a media furor when she bumbled over what she took from Paul Revere's experience. (In fact, NPR welcomed a history professor who explained that Palin wasn't that misinformed.)

DListed presented one of the funnier assessments of Palin's flub: "I know I'm supposed to fully hate Sarah Palin since she'd rather watch me slit a baby black bear's throat with a broken Budweiser bottle than watch me marry the dude I love, but how can I when she keeps delivering priceless gifts like this? [Here's] Sarah Palin explaining the midnight ride of Paul Revere the same way you'd explain it after 12 sake bombs, a couple of bong hits, a concussion and a bump of crushed Benadryl. To be fair, if someone asked me about Paul Revere, I'd tell them that I loved his work in The Pee-wee Herman Show."

But, Palin's performance reminded DBSF much more of Harry Caray than a concussed Rutgers' student. The bobbling head, incoherence, the look that a nap was in the not-to-distant future, infinitely abstract logic . . . okay so a double line of codeine-laced Benadryl is probably about accurate.


** Youtube blocks all Will Ferrel as Harry Caray skits from airing on Blogger for some reason. See (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hObBw7ZAWDo) for the actual video.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Other Things Ohio State should Blame Terrelle Pryor for

After a decade plus of Jim Tressel's cheating, THE Ohio State University--an athletic institution that also offers courses to 50,000+ young adults--thought the appropriate course of action was to blame one 21 year old for ol' coach's misdeeds. DBSF was all "what the heck?" why not blame Pryor for other offenses/ events/ less conspicuous STDs. Below are some examples from a list that DBSF faxed to THE Ohio State U's President and Board of Trustees.

-SARS--Like totally a big issue, and then nothing. Let's give that disease or virus of whatever it was one last burst of publicity.

-The decision to draft Joey Harrington.

-The person who prevented Kimmy Gibbler's stylist from Full House from receiving the lead designer position at the House of Dior.



-Why the Y2K bug wasn't that big of a deal. DBSF spent all that time worrying that he would lose access to the $67.04 in his checking account on January 1, 2000 and what? Surely, a 10 year old Terrelle Pryor started the hysteria.

-Saved by the Bell: The New Class.

-People who fart on elevators and don't take responsibility or fart and get off the floor before you get on so you walk right into the fart and when the next person gets on they assume you were the farter and like mentally tell him/ herself 'what kind of person is so inconsiderate to fart in such close quarters of strangers?'.

-Keith Van Horn.

-People who put lift-kits on Suzuki Samurai's.



-The decision not to bail out Bear Sterns and Lehman Brothers.

-Chlamydia or Gonorrhea. Basically, whichever one is cured with over the counter antibiotics and causes only minor itching and slight discomfort during urination. If they're both of the JV STD variety then whichever one comes first alphabetically.

-The reason Tori Spelling didn't get Helen Mirren's role in "The Queen".

-LeBron James' "decision" this last off-season not to go to the Minnesota Timberwolves.