Monday, February 6, 2017

A decidedly un-PC rant

It seems these days people are no longer allowed to criticize much of anything or anyone. In the politically correct world, one may heap praise, even if it's not deserved, but it's taboo to speak ill of someone, even if they so very much have it coming.

Well, to hell with that. Time for some righteous ripping and tearing.

Dramon Green, he of the Golden State Warriors, has been seen getting up into teammate Kevin Durant's face lately, chewing him out for one thing or another. If one were to pen an open letter to the good Mr. Green, it might go something like this ---

Whattup with you dissing KD on the court? Yeah, you might be the alpha-male and all that, but a star you are not. The team already has three of those named Curry, Thompson, and your boy KD. Your job is to do the dirty work behind the scenes. Like rebounding, playing hard-nose defense, and getting the ball to the guys who can shoot a whole lot better than you can.
If you will remember, it's squarely your fault the Warriors missed out on a repeat championship last spring. How? Because you and they were ahead of Lebron and the Cavs 3-1 in the Finals, only to see it all get away from you. Why? Well, it has something to do with those thunderous kicks to the nether regions you kept giving white guys on the court. You can't keep booting opposing players in the nads and not expect to get penalized for it eventually. Poor Steven Adams of the Thunder is probably still looking for his. Due to your previous actions, you were on a short leash, bro. Didn't you get that? Then when you took a swipe at Lebron's (The KING, man) junk, even with your hand, and even if you missed, it was the last straw. So finally you did get punked and sat down for Game 5, which was in your own building. BECAUSE you weren't out there doing your part, your team got trashed, which gave the Cavs some momentum they wouldn't otherwise have had. Then you lost Game 6 in their building. Anything can happen in a Game 7, and it did. You and your boys went down. This, after a season where you set the all-time record for most wins. And then got chumped 3 games in a row, two of them in your own building when it mattered most? And all because you couldn't keep yourself from delivering seismic events to the groins of opposing players. So yeah, the whole thing's on YOU, fool. Whatchoo doing lipping off now to Kev? Shut up and know your place, or maybe you'll find yourself traded to some god-forsaken destination like Sacramento or Detroit. How would that feel? And don't tell me the team wouldn't do that because you're untradeable. Yours truly can recall when the Edmonton Oilers traded The Great One, Wayne Gretzky, once upon a time. If it could happen to him......  So get real and straighten up. Everybody's on the block if the price is right.
Best wishes
A fan, sorta

That's some kind of sorry commercial. You know, the one that shows His and Her talking heads Jemele Hill and Michael Smith doing a little boogeying. Tell ya what, Dancing With the Stars material they are definitely not. Unless, of course, they bill them as some sort of comic relief. Perhaps they could go by the name Taz and Spaz. Further, Smith sports a rather prominent ring on the fourth digit of his left hand. This typically tends to mean the man is married, and probably not to Jemele Hill, who doesn't wear a ring. Therefore, a wife is out there somewhere. Put yourself in her place. How much do you think she likes watching not only what is some sort of pitiful excuse for dancing, but Hill putting her hands all over her man and looking at him adoringly being shown coast to coast over and over again? Folks can get in serious trouble on the home front over stuff like this.

Yep, it was the greatest comeback in Super Bowl history. All due praise to Tom Brady and the New England Patriots.

But it was also the worst collapse in Super Bowl history. Matt Ryan and the Atlanta Falcons should hang their heads in shame. How in the hell did they let it get away from them? After a fast start, they stunk. Choked liked little dogs on chicken bones. Blew it. Or as the inimitable Charles Barkley might say -- Turrible. Just turrible. Almost as bad as his golf swing.

Well now. That felt good, being un-PC for a day. Maybe next time I'll go back to being my usual cheerful upbeat self.

Or maybe not.

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