Sadly, the NFL regular season is no different. There are very few things I enjoy more than a full slate of games on an NFL Sunday. If I were asked to pick my 30 favorite calendar days of any given year, I guarantee that all 17 of those Sundays would be included on the list, with Christmas, Thanksgiving, Selection Sunday, and a few random nights where I got lucky with cards or women thrown in to fill out the rest. Read More
Merry Christmas and happy holidays to you and yours. Josh Smith received a most pleasant Christmas gift in being cut by Detroit only to end up in Houston next to former AAU teammate Dwight Howard and the rest of the gunning Rockets. Skeptics attribute Smith’s exit to playing out of his comfort zone and generally treating the rim with disdain, to which he says, “Whatever.” Elsewhere, the NBA Christmas Day slate proved to be underwhelming, and some guy on Twitter drove 50 minutes to defend Russell Westbrook, or what’s left of Kobe’s honor, or something.
There are only three weeks left of the NFL regular season and I am sad. The 17 NFL regular season Sundays are 17 of my 20 favorite days every year, with Thanksgiving, Selection Sunday, and the first Thursday of March Madness rounding out the set. Read More
This week, John Wall can do no wrong, ever again, and if any of you lousy, no good, tax-evading slobs speak ill of him in any capacity, there will be repercussions. Don’t do it. Elsewhere, Kobe Bryant calls out his teammates with a branded metaphor, and both the brand and his teammates responded. Also, the Warriors have come out to play-ee-ayyyy, and we’re completely ignoring the tour of glorified British welfare recipients.
Those picks we talked about in this column last week went 4-1. We only lost one! And even that could’ve been avoided if I hadn’t bitten off more than I could chew with the Bears playing on Thanksgiving. We are in the home stretch of the season now. I have only 20 picks left this regular season to prove my worth. I currently stand at 31-34 on the year, much improved from a few weeks ago but still far from a profitable year. While we are too far out of the money to make a run in the SuperContest, we are in striking distance of a winning percentage of 53%, which is what you need in order to make money in Vegas. Read More
Remember, remember the third of December, in the year of our LORD 2014. This was the day He gave the Philadelphia 76ers their first victory of an already lost and troubled season, albeit one calculated to be that way; let us rejoice, and be glad in it. The Sixers managed to avoid setting a record for the worst start in NBA history, so, you know, there’s that. Meanwhile, Anthony Davis is quickly becoming who we thought he was, and the Hornets are creating the wrong kind of buzz.
Cleaning Up the Mess is here to make sense of what just happened at your weekend-long television party. Who put Goldfish in the blender? And why is the thermostat on 42?
This week: the house has been destroyed. These past few weeks have toppled to a spot where we shared some laughs, tears, and daydreams about Mississippi State in the playoff. The house is now condemned and will hopefully be restored before the beginning of next season. Maybe we can go to your friend’s house to watch the bowl games and TALK ABOUT FORDHAM FOOTBALL.
For what feels like a truly immeasurable number of reasons, the existence of the Wu-Tang Clan is a monumental feat in hip-hop. Consider the genesis of the group: a couple of kung-fu-obsessed cousins in Staten Island recruit some friends and start rapping to each other with a full-fledged five-year plan to take over the music industry. An unparalleled debut album gives way to a flood of solo records, each more outstanding than the others. Individual personalities coalesce and gestate inside the Clan before embarking on a crusade to change the way people think about how music happens and why. On November 22nd, at The Orange Peel in Asheville, North Carolina, we had a chance to bare witness to this pursuit, as one of the Clan’s most prominent members and his most trusted associate spat and spun the crowd into a full-fledged ruckus as if it were 1994.
What I’m really trying to say is this: from the slums of Shaolin, Method Man and Redman struck again.