L.A. Lakers vs. Boston Celtics 2008

Aaaah, 2008, and we have the first Boston Celtics vs. Los Angeles Lakers matchup in the NBA Finals in twenty-one years. Why am I not excited?

How many fouls are going to be called in this series? There is a momentum, a rush, and an excitement built when an NBA playoff game gets going; and I mean truly going only to be shutdown, crushed by a modern day foul, which ususally is the equivalent to that of a love tap in the past. Maybe I'm old school, maybe I'm not willing to adjust to the new no-touch-no-tap rules of the modern day NBA.

Playing basketball means you will bust somebody in the chest if they try to drive through the paint; you will damn near headbutt somebody if they try to dunk or layup on you. The game of basketball is much more physical than the modern NBA would care to admit.

And I feel for Rasheed Wallace. The NBA does not need to fine Rasheed Wallace $25 g's for his verbal tirade the other night. The NBA needs more Rasheed Wallaces because ALL major league sports; the NBA, NFL, MLB, and soon MLS (mostly because of desperation to attract a North American audience) rely on entertainment. It's no longer about the sport itself, it's about entertainment. And they think people don't watch wrestling. North American wrestling has sports entertainment nailed down, which is why it is an abomination.

There is one other reason why I cannot get excited for this new age rivalry.

Kobe.

I wish he would just admit that this NBA championship run is all about him. He is a wonderful politician. When someone asks him a question about his contribution to the game he pulls out the "we" card, but in his eyes, and please, look into his eyes; it is all about Kobe.

I would have no problems with it if he would only admit it; it's all about Kobe. Who wanted the trade one year ago, Kobe? Who wanted out of Los Angeles one year ago? And who's boss went and got what a certain player wanted one year ago, Kobe?

I am, despite it all, picking the Lakers over the Celtics.

Oh, and I hope Emperor Stern allows them to actually play the fucking game. My largest concern is that there will be a foul called on every other damn play; let them play the fricking game the way it was meant to be played - - - - - - IF these new age, no-hit-taking, sad-face-making, every-time-an-elbow-waves-them "athletes" can handle it.

Buried Lake

There is a tree in window's view of our business. That tree is an island unto itself, surrounded by a lake. If you were to walk to it, though, you wouldn't see the lake, and looking through the window all anyone can see anyway is a full dried brush field and the tree. One would have to dig through thousands of years of Earth's intangibles; chemical and physical reactions that would slowly muddy and eventually blanket the countryside oasis.

Now, where that lake once was, a shadow looms. A shadow of the tree and its extended branches coated with green and some dry dead weight. The heat, magnified immensley by severe humidity, bores its synging power down upon the open area, but the tree; the tree stands alone. Beneath the tree and above the buried lake is the shade, forever keeping the buried lake cool and ready, should it ever rise once again.

Stardust (Movie)

Watched Stardust for the first time this past weekend. I was a bit weary; I've read the novel and graphic novel several times, and Neil Gaiman does not translate so easily to film. Mirrormask is a prime example. His words are the main stars, forcing one to pay close attention to the script, yet, the visuals he inspire are so spectacular it almost makes watching one of his films a two-brain job; almost like reading invisible subtitles.

Stardust was a pleasure. Claire Danes did not make me want to purposely shit myself to find an excuse to leave the viewing room. That's a first.

I was surprised how faithful the film was to the novel, and then the third act hit, and the bold magic that Gaiman's worlds often provide was nearly the film's own demise, but that's one of the deterred issues when translating prose or graphic novel work to live-action. What's in the original pages are stimulating to the brain, but when shown on screen; it could easily lull a casual observer to sleep.

The decision makers in the Stardust movie decided to step up the action near the end, and it felt out of place, but did not deflate any of the charm and wonder that the whole product sparked. I thought it was well done.

It's On

I don't really like to look back on things unless I'm willing to learn from them, which is quite typical. I get what I need, ususally from a mistake; why I made it, what I did to make it....and so on.

I'd like to think I haven't made any critical mistakes these past few months. It doesn't feel like I have. I know I don't like opening up to people, let alone a second-life tech world where as much of your life is on display for any and all that wish to read or watch it.

Life has not slumped, it's just ceased to be interesting, and I'm sure it's my fault, for the most part.

Asia's suffering quite a bit right now, the UK is now allowing you and yor pets to squeeze out DNA which scientists will allow to dry hump and fuck one another; America's really becoming a bitch to live in, unless you bleed or shit money.

Life has become interesting again, but right when you are about to start a new one, the spectral physics of it change the rules yet again.

I'm game. Bring it, bitch.