Now, Torga, you know I love you very much. That is why I conquered the horde at Nurmijaarvi last month in your name. That is why, along with my trusty brother-in-arms Relkiska, I halted the onslaught of that Baltic bastard Borggata and his demented tribe. That is why I pillaged the hamlet of Varkaus to aquire the ancient Crown of Lennigrikas. I did it all for you, Torga, because I love you. But you know what? I kinda feel like I'm the only one bringing home any spoils in this relationship.

Like, just yesterday, when I came home from a long day of raiding, hoping--maybe, just maybe--that I might find a hot bowl of reindeer suet waiting for me, what were you doing? Sitting on the straw pile watching the goats mate! I had to fix my own ruisleipä bread! And that's all I had! A mighty warrior cannot live on ruisleipä alone, Torga.

And you know what else? I've got news for you, Torga: the rats running around our house aren't gonna decapitate themselves. Someone has to do it, and I'm usually gone all day. I'm trying to get Teffå to give me saturdays off, but I'm not gonna be out busting my hump for a six-day work week when all I get to do on my day off is chop off rat's heads! I chop off enough heads at work!

To Whom It May Concern:

I am a resident of your building (Bellissima Condominiums Phase II) and have enjoyed living here for nearly twelve years now. In my time as a tenant, I have had my share of small problems, most of which have been remedied courteously by the desk staff or the maintenance men. Overflowing toilets and the occasional vermin are “par for the course,” as they say, of any living environment, even a luxury condominium building in Boca Raton like Bellissima Phase II. I can certainly handle paint-spattered contractors using the resident elevator when the service lift is out of order (provided they do not get paint on me or attempt conversation!) and I can look the other way when hospitality personnel callously smoke cigarettes in front of the building in plain view of the tenants. I have even been able to live with a broken doorbell for the last six weeks. But never in my 71 years have I seen such a blatant disregard for Resident Association bylaws go ungoverned.

For several years, I have taken an early-morning swim in the once resplendent Bellissima indoor pool. I was familiar with the pool man, Hector, and he gave me a key to access the pool before it opened most mornings. As you may recall, this was approved with the Residence Board. I have reason to believe that another individual (perhaps a resident, perhaps not?) has access to the pool at the same or earlier hour and is ruining my discretionary agreement.

This began a week ago; when I entered the pool room, I saw Jesus Christ leaning up against the tiled wall smoking a cigarette. Naturally, smoking is not allowed in this room, as it is poorly ventilated, but my complaint is with Christ’s behavior. He seems to have dyed his trademark robes a garish green and was carrying a potted plant with him. Music also seemed to be emanating without any perceptible source from his abdomen. I believe it was a sonata from Paganini, which not only violates the pool room rules, but is quite uncharacteristic of Christ himself, leading me to believe he has become a kind of unsavory character, the type Bellissima usually works gingerly to keep out of the building.

As he did not address me personally, I tried to ignore him and entered the water anyway. As I began my lap, however, I could see him beside me riding a zebra-striped dolphin with exhaust pipes. As you must be aware, wild animals—especially those that pollute the water with exhaust—are not allowed on the Bellissima premises, let alone in the swimming pool.

Even though he did not violate my swimming lane, I did not feel comfortable in the pool with the dolphin, so I got out and went to the shower room to wash up before I left. I do not understand how, but he beat me to the showers and had filled them up with snakes. At that point there was another man—who I believe to have been Thomas Jefferson—playing very loud music on electric guitars and roasting a pig on a spit. I hope I do not have to illustrate further the number of housing ordinances, both private and county, this behavior violates. I quickly returned to my suite and took a nap.

The next several days, Jesus was still in the pool room engaging in a variety of delinquent behaviors, including driving laps around the pool in an ATV, playing table tennis on the ceiling with Sammy Davis Jr., crocheting duck shoes in a ghastly shade of mauve, and—the last straw—replacing all the water in the pool with ram’s blood. I feel I have tolerated this behavior long enough, especially from a personage who is supposed to be a pillar of Western Society (I myself am Jewish). If Jesus Christ hopes to continue being any sort of Lord and Savior, I suggest he clean up his act. And Bellissima Condominiums can expedite his behavior modification by calmly but forcefully removing him from the building.

Also, the concierge who has been in charge of delivering my daily medication has been absent for roughly the length of time Jesus Christ has been defacing the pool room, so I have reason to believe he may be involved as well.

Thank you for your time and please contact me as soon as the situation has been corrected.

Barry P. Levin
Floor 12, #2A

Listen up kids. Here's how you make things plural. Don't laugh, this is important: If it ends in a consanant or a vowel, you add s. ex: hairs If it ends in an s, you add es. ex: mouses If it ends in y, you change it to ie and then add s. ex: boies Sometimes, the plural form is just the word itself. ex: socialism

Look at yourself, David.

What is this lightning bolt makeup business? Why the gold lamé trousers and purple sequined shirts? What’s all this supposed to be? Those knee-high black-and-white-striped vinyl boots you wore on stage last night were very uncomfortable. And you’re leaving lipstick smears on all your teacups.

It’s all a bit silly, no?

And what’s this Spiders From Mars nonsense all about? What an odd name for a band. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn’t thinking, and that’s the problem. I’m sure the gents would much rather be called “The Perfectly Capable Musicians” or something of that sort. They haven’t expressed any particular discontent, but I think I can see a sad little glint in Mick’s eyes when I introduce the band every night…

Really now David, you’ve got a perfectly good name. David. Strong and biblical. You shouldn’t feel so obliged to go by another name. Let alone Ziggy Stardust. It’s just rather foolish, really.

Dear Abby,

I met a nice girl the other day. Her name is Samantha. She was on the same aisle as me at the Food Lion. We were both buying soup. I accidentally ran into her cart, and I apologized, but she said it was ok. She looked at me and smiled and asked me my name. She thought it was cute that we were both were looking for soup. I said something really corny like “maybe we should make soup together” and for some reason she thought that was funny and agreed to a date. She’s really nice and pretty.

But there’s one small problem. I think she’s an arsonist.

Everything was going well on our date. We were out for coffee. The TV was on in the corner of the coffee shop and a news report came on about a recent string of suspicious residential fires and she got all excited. I kinda wondered why, but I didn’t pay it much attention. Then two policemen came in for coffee and she got nervous and made us leave.

I didn’t really think much of it at the time, but later, I took her to my house and she got really hysterical when she saw that I had a fireplace. She insisted that we light a fire. Actually, she insisted that *she* light a fire. She built up a big pile of wood, and even laid a few pieces of wood out from my fireplace to the carpet. I called her silly and moved all the wood back inside the fireplace. She looked disappointed, but I didn’t think much of it.

Maybe I should have gotten a clue when I said I’d go get some lighter fluid from the garage to get the fire started, and she said, “You don’t have to, I always keep some in my purse,” but I guess I just saw what I wanted to see: a girl who seemed to finally like me for me.

Anyway, she built up the fire pretty big and it seemed to be turning her on! She started kissing me and I liked it! I couldn’t help but think something wasn’t right though. I guess I sort of solved the puzzle when, in the middle of us kissing, she blurted out, “I love you so much I could just set you on fire!”

That kinda made me uncomfortable so I took her home soon after. She kept flicking the flint of her lighter the whole car ride home but she told me she didn’t smoke.

My question to you, Abby, is should I see her again? Does she like me for who I am or will I always be playing second fiddle to her love of setting things on fire? Please help, Abby—it’s starting to get hot in here.

--Hot Under The Collar in Hoboken

Dear Dirtbag,

I know where you live. If I didn’t, would this letter be under your door? No. I know what you look like. You look like a big dumpy butthole that farts a lot. You are losing your hair and that goatee you grew to compensate is pathetic. And oh yeah, nice shoes. For a moron!

More importantly, I know what you did and I’m not gonna forget it. Maybe you remember: last Wednesday, when you were walking along down Franklin Ave, probably not looking where you were going because you were FARTING too much, you stepped on my rare replica WWI Sopwith Camel RC airplane. I was running up the block with my remote control to retrieve it after an emergency landing (some irate pigeons wouldn’t leave it alone) and you were just walking along in your moron shoes eating French fries out of a greasy-ass cone and—CRUNCH—my camel may never fly again.

You might just laugh this off because that’s the kind of drooling douchebag you are but that model airplane was very valuable. I spent countless hours in my mother’s poorly ventilated basement hand-detailing the authentic weathering and mock battle damage. I even customized the cockpit to fit a Snoopy figurine, which is a clever cultural reference that’s probably too sophisticated for your meaty head to even comprehend.

If’n any of you sissies ain’t got the stones to complete this training, I’m warning you; ya’ll better up and skip town b’fore ol’ Rotten Rudy gets a hold of yer sorry keysters when he comes in directly. Anybody? Go on, git!

Alright, that leaves seven of us: five of ya’ll, one of me, and this here 24-foot polished pine bar. She’s gonna be yer best friend and yer worst enemy. You’re gonna learn every square inch of this here bar, and by gum, you’re gonna love it. But don’t get cocky—this bar can be a hideous bitch-child when it wants to be.

Now, I’m jus’ gonna get straight to it. You came here to learn to be a saloon bartender, and dag nab it, there’s just about one thing you need to know, and that’s how to sling a sarsaparilla! Right, first thing is to keep this here bar nice an’ oiled up, boys. And there’s one way to do that as far as ol’ Oklahoma here’s concerned. And that’s with Spotley’s Tung Oil. A coat ev’ry sunrise keeps this bar slick enough to sling a cactus down.

The 2007 NBA Draft

 

By The Andrew Meyer

 

Before I get started, I wanted to acknowledge that yes, I read Bill Simmons. He is in fact my favorite sports writer. But let me be clear: I am not stealing his opinions, and I never will. The reason I like him so much is that he thinks much the same way I do. We probably read a lot of the same draft literature, and our opinions will converge at times. Actually, I just read his draft diary for this year, and we wrote down the exact same Stephen A. Smith quote. Coincidence? Unless you think I’m just aping his material, it is. And if you think that, well stop reading now, and who needs you anyway?

 

So without any further ado (man I’m starting to overuse that phrase the way Stephen A. uses “At the end of the day”), these are my thoughts from an event I looked forward to for months, the 2007 NBA Draft.

…………………….

But of course, the NBA Draft can’t really start without the appearance of NBA Commissioner/Commandant David Stern. And I’ve got to say – what a hairpiece. How do I know he’s wearing a toupee? His shiny silver hair is too perfectly matted; he looks like my rabbi.

 

By the way, when Stern (or any league commissioner for that matter) comes out, why does he put the first team on the clock? The Blazers have had the first pick in the draft for over a month. Do they really need another five minutes?

 

We all know they’re taking Greg Oden anyway. Or as Stephen A. put it, "They better pick him - THAT'S THE SENSIBLE THING TO DO."

 

Is it just me, or is Stephen A. a caricature of himself at this point? Before, he used to work himself up to the screaming. Now, it’s like he only has one setting. “SLAVA MEDVEDENKO? HOW are the LAKERS, gonna make the PLAYOFFS, with SLA-VA MED-VUH-DENKO?!!”

 

I wonder what he’s like at home. “Honey, WOULD YOU BRING ME MY BREAKFAST ALREADY?! And please, TWO SUGARS, WITH MY COFFEE!!!”

 

…………………………….

 

Oden, by the way, is not only a sure bet to be the franchise center the Blazers need, he is also the funniest, nicest, and most genuine guy to come into the NBA in years. When Stuart Scott asks him, “Who looks older, you or LeBron James?” Oden just laughs it off and says “Me, I can’t disrespect LeBron like that.” If Stu Scott asked me that, I would have shot back “Who looks like they got their glasses from Hot Topic more, you or Scott Van Pelt?”

 

It is at this point in the draft that I start making animal noises.

 

“OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH that’s unbelievable! The Sonics just picked the Celtics pocket!”

 

That is my exact reaction when it is announced that the Celtics just traded the 5 pick in the draft, Delonte West, and Wally Szczerbiak for Ray Allen (and a second rounder, which will turn into Glen “Big Baby” ). Ray Allen is a great shooting guard, probably one of the best in the league, but for how long? He’s 32, the age when shooting guards go south. Meanwhile, having snagged the Celtics first rounder, the Sonics can now pair almost anyone they want from the most loaded draft class in years with Kevin Durant for the next decade. Oh, but the Celtics will have Paul Pierce and Ray Allen. That’s good enough to lose in the Eastern Conference playoffs for a couple years.

 

Durant, meanwhile, looks very sharp in his suit and longhorn-orange tie and shirt. Lord, he is going to be the most exciting player in the NBA very soon.

 

Mike Tirico asks Blazers GM Kevin Pritchard, “How close did you come to taking Kevin Durant?” Pritchard gives a diplomatic answer, but what’s he’s really saying is this: not close at all. You see, Oden is a center and the GM Handbook says you always take the center first, because if you don’t, you might get fired. Oden was a Blazer from the instant they won the lottery.

………………………………………

 

With the third pick in the draft, the Atlanta Hawks select….Al Horford? They actually took the third best player in the draft. I’m stunned. They haven’t made the right pick in years. More surreal than the Hawks getting it right though, is watching Big Al Smooth doing the Gator chomp on stage. He and Corey Brewer were in my RTV4500 class last semester, barely four months ago, and now they’re NBA millionaires. Amazing. This really is a great pick for though. After Oden, Horford is the only player in the draft with NBA-ready low-post moves. He will be the best player on that team for years.

 

With the fourth pick, takes point guard Mike Conley, Jr. Great pick. It’s been said before, but he really does look like the second coming of Tony Parker.

 

And the player the Sonics choose to wed to Kevin Durant is…Jeff Green. I don’t know if he’s the fifth best player in the draft (the Gator in me is fiercely calling for Noah or Brewer), but I still love the move for the pick and Delonte West. I can’t wait to watch the Sonics this year. Oh, but enjoy Ray Allen Boston!

 

By now I have seen close to seven million Sprite commercials. You know, the Sublymonal Messaging campaign? Honestly, I think there’s something really wrong with those ads. This is a good time to point out that when watching TV with a group of people, you absolutely HAVE to mute the commercials. It’s hard to start a conversation when some redneck in a cowboy hat keeps screaming at you to buy his trucks. Muting commercials is just a good idea in general – that crap will rot your mind.

 

………………………………………..

 

With the sixth pick, the Milwaukee Bucks risk an international incident by taking Yi Jianlian, a Chinese forward who’s said there are only a few teams he wants to play for. wasn’t one of those teams. Yi looks like someone just shot his dog. I’m glad the Bucks took him. I’m sick of players dictating where they are going to play. You don’t want to play in , Yi? Too bad, go back to . I doubt the Bucks will hang onto him though. The Chinese government is going to force a trade to the Warriors, you wait and see. I hear they’re big fans.

 

With the seventh pick, the second Gator is off the board. That’s right, Corey Brewer is headed to ! Not so hot for Brewer, but good for the T-Wolves. They need players, and Corey is a good one. I don’t know why people keep talking about him as a 2-guard though. While he can guard just about anyone, with his length and athleticism Brewer was born to play small forward. With Brewer and Randy Foye in hand, plus the goody basket they will get for trading Kevin Garnett, is primed for a rebuilding. Good luck. In the West, they’re gonna need it.

 

In the worst pick of the draft, takes Brandan Wright over Joakim Noah. Show of hands – who thinks Wright would have started at UF? He would have been lucky to get off the bench before Chris Richard. Wright has issues with effort, and refused to compete against other players (Noah specifically) in pre-draft workouts. But he’s a Tar Heel, so Michael Jordan thinks he’s good. You know Michael Jordan, he’s the guy who took Kwame Brown #1 overall in 2001. Are all great players destined to be crappy GMs? , Bird, and Isiah Thomas may have once been All-Stars, but they couldn’t pick one out of the night sky. [ would later turn around and flip Brandan for Jason Richardson. Good move. He must have realized that Wright has the same tools and upside as fellow UNC great Marvin Williams.]

 

Noah goes off the board with the very next pick, ninth to the Chicago Bulls. A great pick for them, and as a Gator, I’m happy for Noah. The Bulls are now the best or second best team in the East. As a Heat fan, I’m pulling my hair out. Noah gives the Bulls size and defense they sorely needed, and now I’m going to have to root against him in the playoffs. In a related note, ESPN just showed a Bulls fan holding up a sign that read, “Thanks, Isiah.”

 

…………………………..

 

Spencer Hawes goes tenth to the Kings, who are clearly trying to win next year’s lottery. Now, I’m not usually one to put stock in stereotypes, but I assume that all white 7-footers are stiffs until proven otherwise. With players like Julian Wright and Thaddeus Young still on the board, this is the first bad pick of the draft, in my opinion.

 

What’s stranger, that I would bet my life that Acie Law would be the 11 pick in the draft, or that the Hawks would do the right thing and take him? This is truly astounding. It appears as if has made two good draft picks in a row. With Horford and Law, and Joe Johnson and Josh Smith waiting in the wings, the Hawks couldn’t have picked a better year to change uniforms. Their old ones had the stink of losing of them, and now that it appears the Hawks might turn the corner this is the perfect time for them to make a switch, like the Cavs did the year they drafted LeBron. Hawks GM Billy Knight appears on ESPN to what must be the first positive draft reviews he’s ever received. Not to rain on his parade, but Knight looks like someone the Hawks just picked up off the street. If I were guessing his job from his attire, I would say used car salesman. Just kidding Billy, the blazer and t-shirt is a great look for you.

 

By taking Thaddeus Young at 12, the Philidelphia 76ers start a run of teams drafting good forwards that continues with Julian Wright to the Hornets at 13, and Al Thornton to the Clippers at 14. This is a good time to point out that teams have drafted surprisingly well this year. Too well, you might say. There’s not a Nikoloz Tskitishvili or Rafael Araujo in sight. Even the Hawks have drafted well. And – OH-MY-GOD. Isiah Thomas just made a good trade (Zach Randolph for Steve Francis and Channing Frye). This is either a sign of the apocalypse, or a salary dump by the Blazers, who clearly just decided that they don’t want Greg Oden and Zach Randolph to even meet, ever. The JailBlazers era is officially over. But the time of the Four Horseman might be just beginning.

 

…………………………

 

With the lottery done, and the top Gators already off the board, the rest of the draft was a disappointment for me (except for when Knicks fans started booing their pick before he was announced. That was pretty funny). The problem lies with my own team’s draft pick, Daequan Cook. I wanted the Heat to pick up someone like Jared Dudley at 20, someone who might have actually seen the floor at some point this season, instead of Cook, who’s never getting off the bench. Clearly, I take the draft more seriously than Pat Riley, whose mantra is “Rookies don’t make the rotation.” I should have remembered this after the Heat traded for Cook, but I didn’t. I waited like an idiot for the Heat’s second round pick, eagerly anticipating Taurean Green falling right into ’s lap. He’s a sick point guard, he’s a Gator, and he’s a perfect fit for the Heat, right? Amazingly, he was still available at 39, despite being #1 on Jay Bilas’ Best Available list for half an hour or so. So what happens? With the 39 pick in the draft, the Miami Heat select….Stanko Barac. Stanko? STANKO?!?!!?!?!? We passed on Taurean Green, two-time National Champion, a potential starter for the Heat, for someone named Stanko?!!!! I’ve never even heard of Stanko, and I’ve heard of EVERYONE. Even worse, (or better, I can’t decide) The Heat didn’t even keep Stanko, trading him for a second round pick in 2009.

 

This is one of the most historic drafts of all time, with Greg Oden, Kevin Durant, and the two-time National Champion Gators all entering the league at the same time. But at the end of the day, what I might remember most from the 2007 draft is the Heat passing on not only Jared Dudley and Taurean Green, but a host of players including “Spanish sensation” Rudy Fernandez, the Spurs “Great pick” Tiago Splitter, and Glen “Big Baby” . And that’s just who we missed with the 20 pick. In the second round, we could have had the all-around game of Derrick Byars, the pure point skills of Jared Jordan, or the size and athleticism of UF super-sub Chris Richard. Instead, the Heat now owns Daequan Cook (must improve: basketball skills, coach-ability) and a 2009 second round pick.

 

And you know something? That really Stanks. The Heat is a team looking to win now. In the NBA, you’re either building for the future (like the T-Wolves, who should have traded Garnett for picks and young players) or you think you’re a contender (like the Heat), in which case, you need to push all-in. Well, the Heat is a couple players short of a championship right now, and since Riley doesn’t think the draft has anything we need, he better pull a rabbit out of his damn hat, a blockbuster trade along the lines of Eddie Jones and change for , Posey, and Jason Williams. Hey, the Kings are a team that needs to blow it up. Maybe we can get Mike Bibby and Ron Artest off them for that 2009 second rounder. Or not.

 

But enough about the Heat. Here are the 2007 NBA Draft Winners and Losers.

 

Winners: The draft was yesterday! How am I supposed to know which teams “won” before any of these rookies plays a single game? Come back in two years.

 

Losers: The Celtics, for trading their pick, and The Knicks, for hiring Isiah Thomas. (Seriously though, I loved it when Stephen A. called the Bobcats losers for getting Jason Richardson and Jared Dudley. What the hell do you know anyway?)

 

Well, that’s a wrap for NBA Draft 2007. Tune in next year, when I ridicule the Rockets for taking Hasheem Thabeet over Andrew Ogilvy!

 

Until then, I remain

 

THE Andrew Meyer

Wanted: male, quiet, 3BR/2BA,
1 mile from campus, must bring Wii

Wanted: female, pro-pina colada,
poor umbrella habits,not into Yoda,
must have entire brain, email RupertHolmes@escape.com

Wanted: male, popped collar,
no chipping in for beer, cockblocker,
call 414-IM-AN-ASSHOLE

Wanted: illiterate roommate,
send resume to 114 University Ave.

Wanted: female, 18-19, sporty, fit, hot, supple, bosomy,
send audition video to Frank@gmail.com

Wanted: female, doesn’t cheat,
not a bitch,won’t whore herself out,
email Jake at J&B4Eva@aol.com

Wanted: male, big penis, not a wuss,
won’t cry during A Walk to Remember,
email Becky at J&B4Eva@aol.com

Wanted: friends, call Gene 904-6527