let me count the ways:

i read facebook, twitter, instagram

i think of good things to post on facebook, twitter and instagram.

when i run out of those things i think about blogging.

today i need to transcribe an interview, an hour long whopper where every question and answer was perfect because the subject is a veteran journalist and im a long time wanna be.

i want it to be good and tomorrow im gonna be super busy because it’s 4/20 and i have to write the news, be part of a Zoom meeting, and hopefully write the story that im gonna be transcribing all night.

then i have to socialize the news and the 4/20 story

then i have to take the pretty girl to the pharmacy to get her insulin and then i have to go to the Valley because

Ginos East, my favorite pizza place, is making pizzas for $4.20.

its all a trick, you gotta buy a big one for regular price to get the little cheese one for $4.20

so i was thinking about buying the pizza for some nurses and eating the cheese myself.

thats something my momma taught me to do way back during the pandemic of 1918

which for some reason trump thinks happened in 1917.

maybe because that movie was so good.

as are you.

as is this weather.

as is the chicago bulls documentary which has me motivated to be the best i can be.

why arent you here?

the girls are rollerblading in pairs with their headphones on wearing tight shorts and busblog tshirts. the birds are singing, and all the children have ditched school for spring is here.

rebirth. rejoice. renewal.

and along those lines, jerry krause (the fat man on the right) has resigned from the Chicago Bulls.

ding, dong, the witch is dead.

now i have no problem with fat men in particular. the first tony pierce was a fat man and the way i keep eating kfc i will be one soon myself.

this particular fat man got lucky when he signed a kid named jordan. lucky, i say, because there were several other teams that could have picked him, but didnt.

krause loves pictures like the ones im presenting on the blog today because it makes it seem like he had something to do with the six trophies that glisten behind him. but of course he had very little to do with any of them.

and that could be one reason that that kid named jordan quit the bulls twice.

rarely does one get the chance to draft a mj and then pull off a trade so as to get a scottie pippen. krause got those chances and instead of renting a crane to help him to his knees so he could give thanks to the Lord, he did just the opposite and took credit and tried to take credit away from proven winners like Phil Jackson and Tex Winter.

but this is the age of information, and history wont be friendly to krause, who did nothing with the Bulls once the champions had moved on. he had Elton Brand and traded him away for nothing. he had lots of other good young talent and traded them away for Jalen Rose. he had lots of deep dish pizza, and ate it.

and now the doctors say that at 64 that he will die soon.

i am playing the littlest violin with my thumb and index finger.

now i am flipping the bird.

and now i am kissing strangers.

the fat man who alienated the finest basketball player in basketball, the finest accomplice in basketball, and one of the most-winningest coaches, is a meatball sandwich away from doom. pass the butter, bulls fans, our dreams have come true.

and the children of Chicago have ditched school to play in the snow. the snow that came from Heaven originally as tears of joy from the angels and saints of above who can once again sport their Bulls gear and not feel weird about it, since most of the proceeds go to a fat man who never gave a rat’s ass — unless it was grilled medium well.

in a perfect world MJ would come back to the Bulls next year now that his old boss is gone, and he will do with his real team what he tried to do with the Wizards, which is make something out of nothing, the definition of art.

but this isnt a perfect world, this is america, and mj will probably do what all the good little souls are doing right now, laughing and smiling at the sloppy demise and pitiful end of a big mess who has left his skidmark on history.

and that smell coming from downtown is death stoked that he’s about to get some, supersized.

matt welch + ken layne