The Boston Celtics Had Seen the Future

And it was a four-game sweep at the hand of the Cleveland Cavaliers.

Understandably, the Celtics opted to turn that privilege over to the Orlando Magic.

UPDATE: Replace "Cleveland Cavaliers" with "Los Angeles Lakers", subtract one win, and quadruple my resentment over the fact that the Celtics were eliminated by that Mickey-Mouse organization.

The Matthew McConaughey/Kate Beckinsale/Gary Oldman Dwarf-Based Rom-Com You Might Have Missed

According to the trailer for the unreleased 2003 film Tiptoes, "when the going gets rough, it's only the size of your heart that counts."

This statement is only half true for stars Matthew McConaughey, Kate Beckinsale and (especially) Gary Oldman, who plays a freaking dwarf in the movie. From their perspective, probably the other thing that counts is your agent's ability to keep potential career-ending mistakes buried.

[YouTube]

Fruity Culpa

When the Boston Celtics signed Stephon Marbury back in February, I--like many of the team's fans--was less than complimentary of the troubled player.

Having seen Marbury spark yet another ridiculous Celtics comeback in the fourth quarter on Tuesday, I temporarily amend my description of him as "a poisonous lunatic" to "a burst of fruit flavor".

(Though he's probably still a lunatic.)

[ESPN]

Large Infant Inspires Radio Announcer to Boast to Mother About Eating Small Dog

When the Boston Celtics' Glen "Big Baby" Davis hit a 20-footer at the last second to defeat the Orlando Magic and tie the series on Sunday, that was crazy.

Little did I or anyone else watching the game on TV know at the time, however, that the play's level of insanity was nearly immediately challenged by WEEI-Boston radio broadcaster Cedric Maxwell, who hysterically exclaimed:

"That is how ya do it, big fella! You GO GET IT! It's ON THE LINE! Mama, I'm coming to see ya, somebody get me a napkin--'cause this puppy is OVER!"

The "napkin" part I kind of get, as it references a phrase previously coined by Maxwell (last quote)...but everything else raises questions about Maxwell's personal life whose answers might be too disturbing to explore...

John Furia, Jr. - 1929-2009

In terms of modern celebrity, there are two kinds of artists: those of widespread fame and those who are subjectively famous, known primarily to students of their particular field and/or work.

Screen and television writer John Furia, Jr., who passed away on Friday, falls firmly into the "subjective celebrity" category for me. Had I not the privilege to know the man personally as well as to be taught by him, it's likely that I wouldn't know his name.

But I did, so I do...and I will remain forever grateful.

Here's to you, Professor Furia.

Innings of Love

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure...
An inning in a game?

With an AL record-breaking 12 runs before recording an out is how, we musical-theater-loving nancies--I mean YOU! Not "we"! Just you! Ha-ha, what a weird typo!

I only like sports and I therefore have no idea from what fabulous stage play are the above lyrics. And I'm definitely NOT humming the tune associated with them as I write this.

Manny Using Manny (Drugs) Getting (Suspended) Manny (Games)

The Los Angeles Times has broken the story that Dodgers superstar and "model citizen" Manny Ramirez will be suspended for 50 games beginning Thursday after testing positive for performance-enhancing drugs.

...Hooray? ...Boo?

Eh, I don't care. As long as he's not on the Red Sox anymore or on my fantasy tea--ah, crap.

The Acquittal of John Wilkes Booth

"A bullet to the head didn't kill Abraham Lincoln. It was...

[dramatic music]

"CANCER!"

[crowd gasps; monocles drop into mint juleps; several women "get the vapors" and faint]

That scene or one like it will be included in the never-to-be-produced revisionist screenplay that will be written if Dr. John Sotos' theory turns out to hold water.

Red Sox Celebrate Metroville's 400th Post by Peeing All Over New Yankee Stadium

There will be many games played between the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox at the ill-advised sinkhole that is the Yankees' new stadium between now and the time that the Yankees go bankrupt, but there will only be one first game to take place there between the two arch rivals...and--on Monday (Tuesday local time)--the Red Sox won it.

That's on the books forever and ever, Yankee fans. Nana-nana boo-boo.

Reading Comprehension Begins at the Stable

It's been two days since 50-1 longshot Mine That Bird stunned gamblers, hicks and rich hicks alike by winning the Kentucky Derby, and I have yet to solve the mystery of the gelding's seemingly misspelled name beyond the discovery that it is a combination of his sire's name, Birdstone, and his dam's, Mining My Own (I've also learned that "sire", "dam" and "gelding" are fancy horse-talk names for "dad horse", "mom horse" and "horse with his nuts chopped off", respectively).

Optimistically, I hope that whoever named Mining My Own was a miner. Realistically, I am concerned that the person responsible meant to name the horse "Minding My Own" but spelled it wrong. If the latter scenario is accurate, not only did/has that dam live(d) her whole fool life oblivious to her egregiously misspelled handle, the error was passed down to her foal ("baby horse")--compounded, even, by the opportunity missed in the adjustment from the present participle to the present verb form.

Unless his dam's owner wasn't an excavation enthusiast and his current owner is (which would be one hell of a lucky coincidence), Mine That Bird is setting a terrible example for young horses everywhere by furthering the delusive notion that if you're good at sports, your education doesn't matter. He is in effect the Kobe Bryant of horses (save for the raping, of which MTB is incapable for reasons mentioned previously).

Then again, perhaps Mine That Bird isn't solely to blame. After all, he is a horse and therefore might have--in comparison to the humans around him--no idea as to where is or what he's doing or what the hell is happening at any time, ever; if that is the case, I'm glad that dumb sonuvadam has his wealth to rely on. (The horses get most of the money earned from their races, right? Because horse racing is a "sport" and they--like Floyd Mayweather Jr. in boxing and Dale Earnhardt Jr.'s car in car racing--are the essential participants? Maybe I'll look that up, too.)

Joakim: Ah, No

Derrick Rose and Ben Gordon are the real deal. Be they members of the Chicago Bulls or another team, we will be seeing one or both of them in the NBA finals sooner than later.

We won't be seeing them this year, of course, because the Boston Celtics--in the deciding game of what might go down as the greatest first-round NBA playoff series in history--finally eliminated the Bulls on Saturday. As a Celtics fan, I am obviously happy about the end result; that I can commend the legitimacy of Rose and Gordon as a fan of the team that bested them ought only increase the assertion's merit.

You know who's a knob, though? That flailing, immature, untested and overrated emotional wreck, Joakim Noah. As a Celtics fan (and a basketball fan in general), I am unrepentantly pleased that I will not have to watch his unearned chest-thumping for the rest of the NBA season. F that crybaby's ass back to the Barber Shop for Wannabe-Hipsters from which he escaped. (It's probably in Florida...or maybe France.)

More of the same goes for Aryan Nation leader Brad Miller: I'm fairly certain that that violent psychopath should be in prison instead of the NBA--or at least in the NHL.

In conclusion: (1) Noah and Miller suck leprechaun cock and deserved to lose; (2) Rose and Gordon are talented basketball players who deserve respect; (3) YAY, CELTICS.

(All told, #3 is my favorite.)