Hey all, apologies, even though yaren’t supposed to do said utterances, for the long absence. I was busy traveling the globe (er, the western hemisphere, or part of it) and among my many wild & wooly destinations one happened to be the Staples Center on January 2 to see the bastard stepchildren take the court against the Hornets of New Orleans. New Orleans had a special place in my antithesis heart from the University of Hawaii’s crapstacular beatdown in the Sugar Bowl against Georgia the day before, and if I thought that some karmic 180 would be in the cards to the benefit of Donald Sterling’s wayward soldiers, well I should have known that the once humongously fat new mutant that sweat out the pounds in the desert doesn’t actually hold feelings of what necessarily should and or is but only possesses the mind, ponders imponderables, and moves on with her day. Kind of like David West & Tyson Chandler throwing up a wall against Chris Kaman and our lovable white giant vacillating between kicking out of the double team (to mixed reviews) and trying to force the issue (to the tune of almost zero success). Was surprised to see Josh Powell start the game, and it wasn’t the kind of “oh yes, awesome, that is so very very good” kind of surprise but rather the “mmm, rat’s asshole fondue salad for dinner again, eh?” type, but only if you’d never had said dish & only read & opined about its complete lack of positive energy and flavor. Chris’s inability to do crap (although he did rebound the ball well, er, I guess now would be deemed “OK” under the new Kaman ideology) was sorely exacerbated by Josh’s turnstile impression (incredible lifelike) while playing “defense” on David West. Joan Crawford treated her daughter better after discovering wire hangers in the closet than the hornet’s starting power forward distasteful ravaging of Powell’s attempts at said stoppage. Not to mention Sam Cassell being a complete non-factor (a huge letdown, I was hoping for a big game from Sammy, especially since we had lucked into incredible row 1 seats, literally 2 rows back from Don Sterling who sat remarkably unfazed, not so I who grew more lugubrious, & check your dictionary, not for you, for me, please, as the night wore on and the heavy pours from the insane bartender at the Fox Sports club grew more & more apparent in their very real effect on my psyche.) back to what I was saying, Sam sucked donkey balls (er, big testicles? A la the dance?) in this one. Brevin Knight played pretty damn good defense on Chris Paul, but read that sentence again, yes, Brevin Knight & Chris Paul are who they are, so Paul got his dimes & less than his customary points, but rarely turned the ball over (I think once) although Brevin did get some swipes (against the bigs down low for the most part.) Al Thornton played exceedingly well too. He is the future for this team, and the future needs to be now, because anything is better than the present. Maggs had some horrible lapses on D against Peja (who knocked down 3 in a row late which just destroyed all the momentum of a beautiful surge that put the clips all tied up at half time). But maggs also scored the rock nicely and hustled his ass off. Typical meatcake in its lack of clarity in reference its quality. Good times were had by yours truly despite the loss, make no mistake. I love me some clipper bball, and the in-n-out on the way back to G-town was delectable. Gracias.