Don't Fake The Funk

Netflix

So my pops got a 12-month Netflix membership for free. He got it from Tita Alma for Christmas who got it from Tony Danza. I guess she showed Tony who's boss.

At first I loaded up my dad's queue with all science fiction and fantasy movies, but then I realized that he'd probably want to watch what he likes. So I deleted everything and put all westerns and war movies. And then I added Fantastic Four.

No. That choice has nothing to do with Jessica Alba.

Seriously.

But He Didn't Wrap It

I Don't Even Watch South Park

But it's cool to make your own portrait as one.

It's All Isaiah's Fault

Look, if you ask me, the problem lies with Isaiah Thomas.

Sure, a couple years ago when word got out that Stephon Marbury was gonna be a Knick we were all ecstatic. Our misgivings about whether or not Starbury could lead a team (or even run one) were put on the back-burner because, hey, it's a Coney Island kid coming to wear the Orange & Blue. Collectively, the city said, "We'll give Isaiah a pass this time. It's Stephon, after all."

But we ought to have known better, especially when they gave Stephon John Starks' old jersey. I swear it borders on sacrilege to see someone else wearing Hallowed Number 3. "Okay then," we said, "Stephon will just have to earn the honor." He hasn't, and he probably won't. But can you blame us for wishful thinking?

Isaiah proved that he can spot talent in the draft when he took Trevor Ariza last year. This most recent draft was even better. The only thing suspect about Channing Frye is his first name. David Lee is a hustler and he kinda reminds me of Bill Laimbeer minus the jumpshot. (Did I just say "jump" and "Bill Laimbeer" in the same sentence?)

But then he goes and gets Quentin Richardson, as if Q is enough of a player to assuage our sorrow at losing Allan Houston to retirement. And it's pretty obvious that Steve Nash made Q just like Big Papi made Manny Ramierz. But hey, Isaiah got a pass here, too, because the Knicks got that rook Nate.

At this point it started to seem like Isaiah would do something newsworthy just to be newsworthy, or to hide something stupid.

Then Larry Brown comes to town. I admit when I heard this I was excited. I really didn't know how the heck Steph, Q, and Jamal were gonna fit in LB's system but it figured to be pretty exciting to find out. And yeah, LB doesn't play rookies. Still it's exciting because LB's a New Yorker, too. We had no idea how it was going to work but at least it's newsworthy.

Then came the stupid acquisition of Jerome James. I mean, c'mon dawg. James is the epitome of unproven. The dude can't even stay on the floor without fouling a Rangers goalie. I didn't get this move at all -- James isn't even a Larry Brown-type player. And do we really need another Jackie Butler on the roster? (Nobody on the Knicks is an LB-type player with the possible exception of maybe Trevor Ariza.)

And then... Eddy Curry. Didn't we just get and pay for a damn center? Okay he's young but again, he's unproven. The stink about Eddy's heart had me laughing. It has nothing to do with his physical health. Eddy Curry's heart problems are of the INTANGIBLES and DESIRE variety. Insert resigned sigh here. This move also opened the door for the most blasphemous of blasphemes to occur, the destruction of the sacred: Eddy Curry is to wear jersey #34. If he were dead, Charles Oakley would be turning in his grave. Somebody out there, maybe Grandma Oakley, give Oak a big hug for all of us. Let him know that he's not forgotten. Let him know that I'm upset that I CAN'T WALK AROUND THE CITY WEARING MY CHARLES OAKLEY JERSEY WITHOUT SOME @#$@#% ASKING ME WHY I'M REPPIN' EDDY CURRY.

Okay breathe, G. Breathe. You can always Kris Kross things and wear the jersey backwards.

I should have known at that moment that it wasn't going to work. I should have known that starting with getting Stephon, Isaiah was bringing all the wrong players into New York. Trying to cram the wrongest coach with the wrongest system for the type of players we had was even wronger.

Isaiah, you tricked us. You bamboozled us. You made all these spectacular moves, you put all these pieces together and wowed everybody to hide the fact that it just wasn't gonna work. Next season I'm gonna have to change the name of my fantasy basketball team. They can no longer be the Fi-Re Lay-Dens.

Okay. I'm glad I got that off my chest.

My Theory Kicks Your Theory's Ass

Oh So That's Why...

Skirting The Border of Good Taste and Bad

Burn Baby, Burn

The likeness of Frosty the Snowman has been made into a candle. As if the Sun isn't enough of a threat. Frosty, I almost feel bad for you. Your old silk hat is completely melted off and the brim has fused itself to your forehead. Now it looks more like the remnants of an Arab imamah.

Faisal the Snowman.

The Universe is wide and nature is varied to a degree that surpasses our ability to comprehend, so somewhere out there, there's a planet full of Frosty's kin. If I could email them this picture, they would surely declare Snowy Jihad and launch their spacesleighs and come after us. Of course by the time they get to Earth the wick will have already reached his two eyes made out of coal and we'll be roasting chestnuts, or maybe marshmallows -- at which point I'll take another photo and send it to the planet Stay Puft.

That brings up another question. Is "Stay Puft" a real brand of marshmallow or was that just a thing from Ghostbusters?

Happy Birthday Lolo