More than meets the eye

I was riding behind this bumper sticker a few days ago that said, "An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind." It was cute for about 30 seconds, then I remembered the alternative -- folks with more color and less power with two sore cheeks. The world ain't ready to break the kind of bread that can bring folks together for real. We're too busy manufacturing new enemies to love like that.

Untitled, #9

This weekend I had planned on doing 13 things. Saturday, I was having so much fun sitting down in one place, working on one thing, that I made a day of it. Can't remember the last time I did that. (Maybe it was last year, when I was writing that book). Spent time organizing my thoughts, working through some ideas, re-reading old notes... basically just getting myself together. I worked on some related stuff, too, but I didn't bounce around from project to project, trying to put in an hour here and there. I know, given my load of stuff to do, that that will be the usual routine, but it sometimes leaves me longing for some semblance of completion. Oh well, what can I do?

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The NBA season is over. Even more free hours in the day now. The Pistons took it to seven, but the Spurs pulled it out. Wrote about it already here. Duncan's rep lives to see another day.

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Today (Sunday) was much more like the usual routine. Took kids to church (been supposed to be going back for 6 months now, finally made it. Kids acted okay. Could have been worse, I guess), started to make post-church omlettes (saw dude hooking it up on TV One yesterday) but ended up copping out with a scramble, washed and folded 2 loads of clothes, worked on book sales, charted schedule for the week, finally activated credit card, planned vacation in August, went to campus and finally updated Chance22 site to link to blog, played 2 terrible games of basketball (I really need to do some cardio), thought I was playing KFC by negotiating for extra chicken strips in exchange for dark meat that had another 10 minutes to cook when it turns out that I got played b/c they forgot my biscuits, cooked this fly Thai shrimp dish for me and the wife (okay, it was a frozen hookup, but my decision to pan fry it vs oven bake brought up the authentic flavors), got my hair retwisted, plunged a toilet (don't ask), read my brain book, watched Changing Lanes, and did this blog.

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It's official. Nia is authentically Black. When I came home with the KFC bag, she sang "ooohhhhh, chicken, chicken, chicken."

Musical Multi-tasking

Game 6 of the NBA finals just started (will this be last game? that remains to be seen), but the national anthem is on, so I'm doing my usual.... flipping to the video stations.

VH1 Soul has our favorite MIAA (Missing in Action Artist), D'Angelo, and his "mighty fiiiiine, lady... I can tell they're looking at us." Cats at OKP.com ask about him on the regular. What the hell am I gonna say? What can I say? We don't know where that dude is.

Over at MTV Jams, its Kels with yet another pending hit. This one's with The Game. Oh, okay... the video's got the boats, bikinis. O for originality. Why is it that whenever R's recording, he's gotta have like 8 songs out at once, whether it's a feature or his own mess? It all ends up sounding the same to me. People are calling The Closet joints genius. The only smart thing was slicing it up into five parts and making negroes hang off their seat edges, b/c we all know, we love some drama. It's overload though... the drama and R. Kelly. Damn, speak of the devil, now he's on VH1 Soul w/ Syleena Johnson. Can't stop, won't stop.

In the background, on the stereo, I've got Leela James playing (yeah, I often watch TV, type, and listen to the music at the same time. And I wonder why I now feel like a prime candidate for adult ADD). What I don't get about this one is that it came out today but there's no radio, no video, no buzz, nothing. We promo'ed in at OKP at least 6 months ago and had no plans to make any followup mentions, until I just popped it in the news my last 2 shifts. Is this album supposed to fail? Such a damn shame, because there's not much else that can touch it.

The Dream Killer

There seems to be some confusion over Robert Horry's nickname - Big Shot Rob, Big Shot Bobby, etc. It doesn't really matter what you call him b/c ever since I watched him knock down clutch three's nonchalantly vs. Philly in the 2000-01 Finals, I've quietly hated, but respected him. When we did everything we could to hold Shaq and Kobe relatively in check, and keep the game close, it was Horry who would snatch all hope in the final minutes.

Horry must have been reading my mind last night. As I watched him drive to the basket, a bit out of control, then throw the ball hard off the backboard, barely grazing the rim - twice - I thought he was done. Detroit had the momentum, Manu and Tim were fading, and Horry was trying to do too much. He was out of his zone. He was 34. It was showing. I thought Pop may have been giving him too many minutes, but he didn't pull him. Next thing I know, he hits an open 3. Then a putback. Then another three. He's heating it up in the second half. Typical Robert Horry.

I didn't see the game winner last night. Once it went into OT, I tured the TV off and called it a night. I didn't really care who won, though I was somewhat pulling for Detroit b/c I don't see them winning two in San Antonio. I decided to let the outcome be a surprise in the morning. Reading about the shot though, I realized, I didn't need to see it. I've seen it before.

Randomness in the Hour of Chaos

...well, it's not really that deep. Procrastination is a beast, though.

I freed up some time for myself b/c I realized that by the time I got to what I was supposed to do today it would be extremely ineffective b/c I would need at least another 4 hours or so, which I didn't have. So now I'm supposed to be restructuring my schedule, but instead here I am, eating cookies, typing, and listening to this new Leela James (which I'm liking a lot, though it may be a bit too mellowed out. Not that every R&B singer needs a club track, but a little uptempo never killed nobody).

NBA championship's all tied up. I was telling some cats last week that if the Pistons bring their A game every night they can get the job done. The Spurs had been playing some really good ball, which is why I think their bandwagon got top heavy. We forgot that this is the Detroit squad that sonned Shaq and Kobe last year, are still the defending champs, and believe that they are the defending champs. Not to mention, the Spurs are beatable when they get out of synch (which they've been since they left the Alamo).

The best thing about the Tyson fight last Saturday was that it was my first experience seeing HDTV. I don't get out much. And when I do, I often am too tired to pay attention to the details. But this shit was so crispy, I was in awe. That commercial where people blend in an out of the TV shows as if they're real -- maybe it would have made sense to me had I seen it in high def. Now I get it.

Tyson kept it way too real last week. Basically, it boiled down to "Yeah, I thought I was gonna fight this dude and make the world still think I was an animal, but in the middle of it all, I kinda got tuckered out and decided to go Ruth Chris. I was just doing it for the money anyway. You did cut the check right? You know I'll kill you. I'm crazy." My wife asked me whether or not the big white dude got more money for winning the fight. "Nope, baby," I said. "One-fifty (150K)." While Mike walks away with 5 mil. That's Hollywood.

Big Dog vs. Darko, Winner Takes All!

Well, the series is set. Pistons/Spurs. Not exactly the marquee matchup that ABC was hoping for (Shaq brings ratings), but defense wins titles.

There are some interesting sub-plots (the Larry Brown connection, the quiet way that the Pistons are better than last year's team, the stage set for Ginobli superstardom, and more). Today, I want to touch on the most commical.

Flashback 2 years ago...The Sixers trade for Glenn "Big Dog" Robinson. All I can think about is the fact that this was the dude who missed a 10-foot baseline jumper in game 7 of Bucks/Sixers, which allowed Philly to eventually get to the Finals. AI immediately annointed him as the best player management has ever given him. My opinion differed, but I rode with him anyway. Even when haters (or realists) labeled him a team cancer. Even when one day he's said to have reported to camp in the best shape of his life, then the next day (when Iguodala had displaced Robinson from the starting lineup), he has a unspecified injury and/or family situation as is no longer with the team. Fast forward 8 months later, he's traded for Rodney Robinson, fails to report to the Hornets, and is waived. A few weeks later he's picked up by the Spurs. Drops 7 points his first night. I thought he was hurt?????

Also two years ago, Darko Milicic was dubbed the greatest Euro player ever. He had every scout leaning out of their seats. He impressed them so much that he jumped all the way to the second pick of the draft. Ahead of Carmelo. Ahead of Wade. Twenty-one spots ahead of Tayshaun Prince, taken the previous year, and one of many taking Darko's minutes. By default, the jury's still out on Darko because we simply do not know if he can play. Instead of presenting him with opportunities, the Pistons grabbed Derrick Coleman, Antonio McDyess, and Elden Campbell this summer. The bitter irony is that Lebron hasn't yet tasted the playoffs, while Carmelo barely scraped in this year. Darko already has a ring, and is poised for another, for his career 5.8 minutes per game (and 42 DNP CDs last year alone). I say this year, let's make him earn it.

So basically, what I'm proposing is that we scrap this whole team thing and let Darko and Big Dog go at it, one-on-one, best of 7. Twenty-one wins. Two's are one, and three's are two - you know how we do it at the courts. How will it play out? Tune in tomorrow for the play-by-play predictions.