recently won this years NBA Most Valuable Player award

a distinction that he totally earned despite the suprise that was his impressive season.

nash led the league in assists (861, nearly 200 more than the second place Stephon Marbury),

dropped a not-too-shabby 1165 points in the supercompetitive west,

and was the ringleader of the phoenix team that will probably win it all.

basically he took a lottery team and made them the best club in basketball in the old school showtime laker style while no-looking his way into the playoffs

and once and for all proved that dallas mavericks owner mark cuban really isnt any smarter than any other fantasy hoops gm who trades people to quickly and forgets how important defense is.

although jason terry is doing pretty well for dallas during the playoffs, the mavs could have used nash during the season and he will be the difference during this series versus his old team.

the other day, the bastardly made an excellent point of illustrating how rare its been for white men to achieve the nba mvp award.

dirk, peja, and manu better help nash savor this award because according to the list below, white men getting the nba mvp is getting harder to find than a blog sans ads.

2004 – Kevin Garnett – Brotha
2003 – Tim Duncan – Brotha
2002 – Tim Duncan – Brotha
2001 – Allen Iverson – Brotha
2000 – Shaquille O’Neal – Brotha
1999 – Karl Malone – Brotha
1998 – Michael Jordan – Brotha
1997 – Karl Malone – Brotha
1996 – Michael Jordan – Brotha
1995 – David Robinson – Brotha
1994 – Hakeem Olajuwon – Brotha
1993 – Charles Barkley – Brotha
1992 – Michael Jordan – Brotha
1991 – Michael Jordan – Brotha
1990 – Magic Johnson – Brotha
1989 – Magic Johnson – Brotha
1988 – Michael Jordan – Brotha
1987 – Magic Johnson – Brotha
1986 – Larry Bird – White Man
1985 – Larry Bird – White Man
1984 – Larry Bird – White Man

h/t gorilla mask + kitty bukkake + chelle is back + happy belated bday xiaxue

season finale
5/10/05
cbs

amazing.

last year they had us pulling for charla the dwarf, and this year they had us rooting both for and against survivors rob and amber.

as a proud black man, though, of course i was rooting for my people, who rob last night accurately called “the black couple”

which i agree is all they were until my brotha picked up the golf club(!) and chipped a ball 135 yards onto a green after just a few strokes.

their names are Uchenna and Joyce and because they lost the second to last leg, they had all their money and possessions taken away and these people had to beg for money in airports, and finally yards away from the finish line in order to win one of the most exciting races jerry bruckheimer has ever orchestrated.

it was the second time in a row that the black couple has won the globe trotting made for tv race

not that anyones counting.

rob and amber were excellent competitors, extremely cool under pressure, aware of the fact that they were despised by the other teams, but they just kissed and smiled as they worked every single angle in the one-of-a-kind game where the winning team wins a million dollars.

throughout the race, no matter what continent they were on, either “boston” rob or survivor champ amber brkich would get recognized by a local who would help them with directions or whom would sometimes ride along for long portions of the race.

although it was definately a brilliant move to have rob and amber in the game, and what luck was it to have them in their to root for all the way up until the end when it was impossible to root against uchenna and joyce agu. joyce cut off her long locks during one challenge and uchenna simply would not give up and begged men and women alike for money even when it looked dire. however, if it wasnt for a willing airline pilot who let the couple on the plane for the very last leg of the race, rob and amber would be a million dollars richer.

but the best part about this race was that with the lead with a few yards from the finish line uchenna and joyce realized that they didnt have enough money to pay the cab driver who took them to their final destination, which was in a park next to a luxury hotel.

instead of telling the cabbie “let me get back to you in 2 SECONDS after i win a million dollars” uchenna begged tourists and visitors for $20 each. even $10 will do he pleaded with fat izod wearing company men on vacation in their rental sedans. valueable time melted away as people declined handing over their “extra” money to these crazy bald black people who seemed nice but… had no money for some reason.

the taxi waited as the wife pleaded with her husband to simply cross the finish line but uchenna on principle was firm when he said, my man has to get paid.

i screamed, i laughed, i cried.

when people proudly say that they dont even have televisions, never mind watch reality tv, i pity the fools for missing real human dramas which sometimes… sometimes… show the humanity of the people even in the face of personal gain, even in the face of defeat.

marissa + perfect pear + black feminism dot org + lynne d johnson

today

clipper girl invited me to her house to do laundry last night which usually means that her roommate will cook for us and try to get me naked.

last night was no different.

before i knew it i was full of stirfry and only wearing some blue cloud pajama bottoms. there were coors light bottles half empty on the crystal coffee table and lingerie draped over the plasma screen tv. i didnt even know that the timberwolves game had gone into overtime until too late.

and then before you could say who put that in my drink i was passed out on the overstuffed chenille couch only aware of the giggling and the flash bulbs going off.

this morning i woke up in a far too sunny bedroom with tori amos playing on the imac. why is it that theres never enough blankets on girls’ beds? too many pillows and not enough blankie. she read my mind and esp’ed

must you always complain.

outside the gardeners were already trimming the trees and i thought i was late but she assured me that i wasnt. then i realized that it wasnt the same she who esp’ed me. it was a different she. a taller she. who are these people i thought. why do i have a headache again.

then i realized that while i slept i had had two dreams.

why was i dreaming? the xbi had stopped me from dreaming years ago, but all of a sudden i had begun those nocturnal lies again and it made me pissed off.

i hate dreams so much you have no idea.

you cant run from them, you cant fight them, you cant ignore them. they flash in your head at your most vulnerable state and take over your mind.

so not cool.

so not cool.

they ro-sham-bo’ed for the shower and giggled out of the room apparently compromising to take it together and before i could ask for someone to get me some orange juice i turned to the alarm clock and saw that not only was it earlier than i thought but there was a slice of wheat toast, buttered, with a small bite taken out of it sitting next to a tall glass of apple juice, my favorite.

and yes i dreaded going into the office and yes its true that in two weeks i will be celebrating my third year at the xbi, and yes i am in some ways the luckiest and unluckiest man in the world

but at that moment i had everything i wanted, toast, juice, peace, and quiet.

little did i know that there were imminent plans for me including much louder music, hand restraints, and two chocolate flavored condoms whose aroma was far too strong for such a hungover and sensitive morn.

fil + jaime + rev etienne + xTx

came over to my house last night.

yes, my house.

the one with the smile all over it when she left.

while she was there she hypnotized me with her voice and seduced me with her reverse psychiatry.

she held my hand and esped me through her pulse. it was like morse code in braile.

she pulled my shirt off over my head and led me into the smoking room and asked me to stand on my head for her and i said fine like the zombie i was.

she held my feet and rifled one question after another at me

why does the caged bird sing

what is the sound of one hand clapping

how many girls have you been with

why do some smart people vote for bush

then she asked me why i was going to sue my former company for money when my whole life ive never given a shit about money

i said principle.

she said but you gave up on idealism years ago.

it wasnt yet nightfall but the colors in the sky were all the good oranges and yellows and reds that youd ever wish for in a sunset which was ironic since we were now floating high above sunset blvd although i was still upside down and trying to keep my balance.

she said give to caesar whats caesars

i said but

she said there are many paths that you could have taken that lead you here, now there are many out. you are not a whiner, you are not a victim, you are not a suer. walk out of this darkness

and into the light.

and she kneed me in the nuts and i woke up startled with the phone ringing.

it was a different runway model telling me what a wonderful time she had with me last night and that i shouldnt worry, that everything was going to be fine, and to remember that she wants me. badly.

me, the one who never dreams. who, when caught dreaming damns the wicked spirits for taking advantage of a resting soul during its most vulnerable fooling the mind with lies and ridiculous fantasies.

and i tried to go back to sleep but the mailman knocked and wouldnt stop knocking.

when i opened the door i understood why, it was a barrell containing what appeared to be all of my blog, the busblog, but everything was printed out and red-penned

and graded.

never got good grades and nothings changed.

i stood there in my pajamas, my robe, and my pipe looking at the mailman like thanks for bumming out my morning, he tipped his pith hat and stuffed my neighbor’s boxes with the typical crap.

there was no way i was gonna get that barrell in my house. if it wasnt for the palm tree by the fence i would have just rolled the barrell off the porch and set it on fire.

right as the mailman left my yard he returned with a small manila envelope

on the return address it said

Heaven

inside the envelope were 111 pages. my age. the pages were stapled. there were no red pen markings on or around any of the words. there was a picture of karisa on the first page.

and on that first page was a post-it that said, make this a book and sell it and your dreams will come true.

and if its fake fake, im going to kill that fucking mailman.

just a girl has a new design + dirty fez + dougie gyro + franklin ave

make believe
geffen records

expectations are everything and when pinkerton came out many moons ago pop music turned its back on its most unlikely genius only to rediscover him when it was too late.

nobody ran out to buy the followup to the classic blue album, but after a few months we all realized its glittering wonderfulness and even if rivers doesnt consider it a masterpiece, everyone else does and thats all that matters, right?

apparently not if youre the guy who writes the songs.

make believe is just another in a growing line of the non blue album non pinkerton records by americas favorite nerds that reminds you why people get wedgies.

other than the cheesy single beverly hills, many of the tracks in the new record sound like typical post-pinkerton weezer: rivers singing little timid love songs of longing to girls who would probably do him if he just shut his damn mouth.

rivers has turned into such a fragile little boy that its almost as if he has bought into the clark kent myth forgetting that theres a superhero beneath those glasses.

make believe is so soft it makes the last cure record sound like metallica.

remind me not to let my rock idols take time off to go to harvard.

any classic weezer guitar solos? yes, one. on the ridiculous call-for-help frat anthem “we are all on drugs”.

did rick rubin lose all the good songs in his beard?

no, “hold me” is perfect for the thirteen year old cheerleader in your life who watches too much american idol and “freak me out” is proof that anyone could be the postal service.

weezer and rick rubin have made a record ideal for little girls while turning their backs on the young men of their audience. theres no in the garage, theres no dope nose, hell theres not even a love explosion. did rivers have a migrane when he recorded this?

bring back matt sharp and we can make believe this never happened.

vivian + zulieka + thursday night fever + what pitchfork said

a film

a film

is that the women are all beautiful. i think its a rule.

theyre also intimidatingly smart. as in some of them actually studied in school while the rest of us were learning the physics of gravity bongs and the wonders of cough syrup.

she says i cant use her name and she says i cant tell the world what she does for a living but know that ive had the pleasure of spending a few afternoons with todays birthday girl and they were eye opening and delightful.

born in a land that rhymes with Sole, Faria, our former cohort moved to america when she was just a little girl, learning the language, like most do, through television.

her favorite show, one of the few that her parents would let she and her sisters watch, was i love lucy.

when i told her that i was probably part cuban like ricky ricardo she accepted my invitation to have a drink.

and since one drink usually leads to three, soon we were flicking oyster crackers at each other and dissing each others colleges.

eventually we became very good friends but because she is a staunch buddhist and because im a born again Christian, we knew that our respective theologies would get in the way of anything romantic so we kept it on the just friends level

until

i was sent into the desert on tripledouble undercover surviellance at coachella, and who better to have people ignore me than to have such a cutie on my arm as todays taurusgirl.

she likes flooding her friends with gifts, stopping to pet cute little poochies, making hand made birthday cards, beer croquette, and playing dance dance revolution until her neighbors beneath her call the cops.

she cheats at cards so watch it
she makes awesome jungle juice so watch it
her middle name’s dangerkat so watch it
she shakes her hips while she licks her lips so watch it

today she turns twenty two and loves italian food so watch it.

happy birthday to the most amazing suprise hottie that id never thought id meet, and ive been practicing my ddr dance moves with my free time, so watch it.

flagrant has pics from her travels + matt good + the lithium journals + jason sutter

one where fences were made of crackers, trees were made a wood, and beer came right out of sky. the nerds had invented zero gravity luncheon meats but since the town was riddled with vegans the only way to sell any was to throw in a puppy and or a child.

sales had always been phillipes trade. when he graduated college he was immediately hired by a multi billion dollar conglomerate who gave him a company car, some business cards and a terroritory that spanned across his entire state.

his job was to convince salesmen to sell his company’s product.

often times the salesmen would look at the babyfaced company man and say why should we sell your crappy crap, sony makes better crap and they pay more commission

now the funny thing about this job was no one could actually measure whether phillipe was successful because at the time there was a terrible recession and nobody anywhere in the country was buying anyones crappy crap, not sonys, not tonys, not anyones

but philippe didnt want to be embarrassed standing right there in the middle of nowhere in this retail outlett in the woods, where no one was buying anything anyway

so he said its all about closing ratio

if you can sell a sony to everyone go right ahead, but not everyone can afford one and not everyone wants one.

i dont want nike shoes because they exploit their workers and then turn around and sell the most expensive sneakers on the market.

this got the attention of the manager who had been doodling and pretending to ignore the young factory rep.

simmer down over there, he warned.

the name of this game is service plans anyway and some salespeople have been known to be successful saying yes sir you can have this giant screen tv and a five year in home warantee for less than what that sony costs before tax, im not telling you what to do, im just saying.

and just like that phillipe didnt care any more and asked the group where he could get a good salad in town.

and hed drive through the woods in his taurus, adjust his tie, and snake through the last remains of real nature in america and ask himself if he wouldnt be better off sitting infront of his computer writing movie reviews on the web.

since no one has really cornered that market yet.

probably because most movie reviewers blow.

remember the fourth star wars. the one with jar jar. where was the movie reviewer who got on his typewriter and said

you know what fuck you george lucas

as phillipe drove through the mountains he said i could be just that reviewer and here i am stuck in the middle of nowhere listening to the same damn cds i always listen to, drinking carbonated sugar water thats gonna kill me, and hoping that that chick ive been emailing all these months isnt really a man.

thats no life for me.

but phillipe had a.d.d. and was soon distracted by something shiny. it was a AAA sticker on the back of a late model cadillac. he wondered, if you have a AAA card whats the use of the sticker on the bumper? they’ll still fix your shit without the sticker on the bumper. wont they?

he wanted to puke.

he knew not to trust the diner waitress who assured him that the dressing was nondairy but it tasted dairy and now in his stomach it felt dairy.

nothing with faces
mix all the races
the daring young man
on mysterious traipses
im not sure exactly quite
where this is going
glad to get paid
but love was not made
dont come back here mister
until you get laid

boing boing + dave navarro + chokey chicken