Justin "Donkey Kong" Schwarz Bowls His Way to 2hr 57min Marathon Finish

By THB, 33 minutes ago

BOSTON -- Amongst a field of elite runners, it was a top-heavy, overweight gorilla who stole the show at the Boston Marathon. Thousands lined the Beantown streets on an overcast Marathon Monday to see the elite runners push the limits of human endurance. Few expected to see the sport itself undergo a stunning transformation. It was not that Justin "Donkey Kong" Schwarz's finished in 2hrs 57mins - though the time is impressive, especially for a creature whose arms outstretch its legs by such a margin - but the manner in which he ran the race that's causing all the uproar.



Some thought DK Schwarz (DKS) might be handicapped by a poor starting number, which placed him amidst a dense crowd of bodies to start the race. However, upon crossing the starting line, DKS spread his gangly arms and unleashed a furious Up-B donkey-copter. Some runners pushed back; some ducked; some tried to leap over DKS. It didn't matter. As they were bounced off the course into the brush on the side of the road, one and all could be heard moaning: "Nothing goes through that move."

DKS felt no sympathy. He repeated the move three or four times, by which time his path was sufficiently clear. DKS then lumbered off at an astonishing 6:48 minutes/mile pace, made all the more astonishing by his unwieldy feet-over-hands gait. Spectators were certain that DKS would fall off the level or get caight between two buildings and die, but DKS navigated the course with aplomb. Whispered a frightened young boy to his father: "That's one nimble ape".

Most thought DKS could not maintain the pace, but then again, most did not know about DKS's strict training regimen. In a November 2007 Dartmouth soccer game against Cornell, DKS received word that he should begin warming up to enter the game. However, this command came from a devious Waluigi-esque character out to foil DKS; there was no chance of DKS entering the match. For the 18 months preceding Marathon Monday, DKS had been trotting back and forth in a 20 meter interval. It was a training regimen not unlike that of Conan the Barbarian, who developed every last muscle in his body by pushing a water wheel in the desert for approximately ten years (the inside side of his body should have been puny - or at least slightly underdeveloped - in my opinion).

Tragedy befell DKS at the twelve mile mark. Seeing a PokeBall in the distance, the nimble ape accelerated to breakneck pace. As he reached his arms outward, DKS heard a familiar click beneath his feet. "Who put that theeeeeeerrreeeeee?" DKS could be heard screaming as the proximity mine sent him hurtling into the air. Spectators gasped as DKS vanished from sight.

When DKS came to his senses, he found himself back at the starting line. Muttering difficult-to-decipher obscenities under his breath, DKS took off at a gallop. He thrust several octogenarian "runners" out of the way. Although Marathon officials were certain they had turned stars off, some observers swore they saw a slight sparkle in DKS as he trudged ahead, now pushing septagenerians into the roadside.

At the thirteen mile mark, just outside the city limits, DKS made the decision that changed history. He had just caught the pack of normally-aged laggards when DKS stopped abruptly and began twirling his right arm around his head. After 10-15 seconds, DKS lowered his arm. He began flashing, his fur alternating between white and brown like a strobe light. The clock read 2hrs 56 minutes. Then, just as suddenly as he stopped, he hopped forward and released the punch of all punches. A bloodcurdling scream tore through the region: "JJWWWAAAAARRRTTTTZZZ".

Three things resulted:
1. The death of 1 Mario, 1 Luigi, 3 Yoshis, and 34 Jiggly Puffs.
2. The finishing line camera caught the blurred image of an oversized ape's fist just across the plane. The clock read 2hrs 57mins.
3. The brunt of the blow landed on the backside of laggard American Ryan Hall. Propelled by the blow, Hall shot across the finish line in 2hrs 9mins, clinching third place. It was the best finish by an American in forty years.

It was celebration time. With the course cleared, DKS finally had a PokeBall all his own. He sauntered over, a doofy grin on his face. But, alas, it was not to be. At the last moment, a Captain Falcon, clothed in a stealthy black suit and helmet, sprinted by DKS and snatched the PokeBall from his clutches. A close-up photo revealed a chaw in the Captain's lip. The Captain cooly dropped the PokeBall and held DKS over it as it opened. Cries of "F***! Bees! F***ing bees!" were the last the crowd heard from DKS as he bounced off the screen.

Trivia Update

Third place. Out of four teams.

Jesus saves

This morning on Sportscenter, Magic Johnson said: "Anytime I have playoff basketball, I'm in heaven". I agree with his sentiment, but I have doubts about how excited St. Peter is for old Earve. When Magic tested HIV positive, he came out and said he had no idea how he got the disease. It turns out he got it from the most unlikely of sources: unprotected sex with "multiple partners". It's unclear if those multiple partners were from one occasion, multiple occasions, or both, i.e., multiple partners on multiple occasions. Whatever the case may be, he probably trails Wilt Chamberlain, who claimed that he had sex with 20,000 women. Someone did the math, and it works out to 1.14 women per day from the time he turned 15 to the day he died. Someone else asked: "Is that number regular season only, or does it include the playoffs?"

With that backdrop, I enjoyed Magic's commentary. When asked what makes a team successful in the playoffs, Magic began: "Decision making is the key." Take it from him. He mentioned some cliche about having a good point guard before he revealed his true secret: "You need two wingmen who can deliver."



I don't know if Jesus (real Jesus) will be saving Magic, but Ray Allen (real Jesus Shuttlesworth) saved the Celtics tonight. In the fourth quarter, the Celtics were on the ropes. Ben Gordon was playing like Joe Johnson playing like Michael Jordan (Think back to last year's first round when Joe was NBA-Jam-on-fire all series and could not miss a shot no matter how difficult or absurd even though he's not a great player when it really comes down to it). Gotta give it to them, the Bulls were using tried and true NBA Jam play calling. Pass it to Gordon, and jab B for shoot, no matter where he is on the court. With 10 seconds left, that strategy tied the game. We were headed to overtime against a man possessed. But, with 2 seconds left, the clouds parted and Ray Allen hit the game winner just over the reaches of the devil incarnate, Joaquim Noah.

I needed it bad, having attended Saturday's heartbreaking Game 1 loss, where Mr. Shuttlesworth shot 1-for-12. However, I know someone who needed it worse than I. The Honest Godfather. THG. He was also at the Game 1 loss. FYI, I think I have his seat pegged. I'm pretty sure it's Section 304, Row 14, Seat 3 (could be 2 or 4, it's hard to be that precise from over in 307). You can probably figure it out by finding the two tickets that are selling for the highest price on StubHub. Those would be the seats on either side of this living legend.



THG was a sight to behold. He donned the same classic faded denim. He swapped his Larry Bird Jersey 33 for a Paul "The Truth" Pierce Jersey 34. The same green undershirt worked equally well with this jersey. Does he have a collection of green undershirts? Or just a single lucky undershirt? The world may never know. I must also set the record straight. The worn-in white Asics I mentioned before are actually worn-in white K-Swisses (unless he has two similar pairs of shoes).

I picked up on these details, but if you missed them, no one would blame you. Why? Because THG had dyed his fine, chain-mail-like mullet fluorescent green. It must be a new playoff tradition. It was stunning. The question hardly needs answering, but I'll indulge you. He made the Jumbotron. The crowd reacted favorably, of course.

I saw THG leaving the arena, but I could not bring myself to stop him. As I mentioned, Mr. Shuttlesworth was not all aces on Saturday, and he missed the would-be-game-tying shot in overtime. THG was walking in a cloud of despair (a fluorescent green cloud of despair), and I had nothing to offer that would cheer him up. I still don't have that cooler of homemade 22 or 24 oz beers at the ready.

When Ray Allen's three-pointer hit nothing but strings tonight, I leaped up from Big Blue in joy. I don't receive the Jumbotron feed (yet), but I don't need it to know the camera was pointed at the brightest object in Section 304, our modern-day light in the Old North Church, our beacon of hope.

Trivia Update

It was not our finest showing at Trivia. Heading into the two question finale, we were already out of the race for first. In addition, we named our team "Rivers JV Baseketball" in honor of Coach Armeen P, who planned to arrive slightly late. However, Coach-turned-socialite Armeen P never arrived. Thus, the joke did not work, leaving everyone to wonder if we really were a group of bad high school basketball players. Or if we were a group of bad high school basketball players having a reunion. I was embarrassed every time I had to hand in our answer.

Ever pushing the how-lewd-can-we-make-our-name-and-still-have-the-guy-say-it-out-loud boundary, the artists formerly known as "My couch pulls out but I don't" broke new ground this week. "Quiz on your face".

But that wasn't to be ejaculate's only cameo at trivia. One question asked: what white, odorless crystalline substance is also known as calcium-oxide? The bartender, a little bit of a Guy on the Right, leaned in and said: "Let me just say what everyone's thinking. Semen." I was thinking talc. Both turned out to be wrong. It was lime.

Anyhow, fresh off Magic's inspirational talk, I began thinking of ways to wrest the best name crown from MCPOBID/QOYF on the walk into work this morning. I have a candidate: "TriViagra". I don't know whether you pronounce it "trivia-gra" or "try-viagra", but I think either has the desired effect. No matter how hard the questions are, we won't be left stumped.

Thought: the title to this post turned out to be completely inappropriate.

Answer honestly: would you prefer to...always wear flannel or always wear turtlenecks?

Oh, no you didn't. You didn't just put flannel in the same category with turtlenecks. Turtlenecks for women are one things. Turtlenecks for guys are another. These two pictures pretty much settle the issue on turtle necks:



Wearing a turtleneck is walking a dangerous line between:

The guy on left: Mocha-latte-cafe-americano-drinking, Armani-Exchange-wearing, hair-gel-market-stimulating, the guy on the left fits in at clubs, probably enjoys shopping, and calls movies films. Guy on the left, you're worthless. Actually, I take it back. You serve one purpose. You make me think there's someone out there that I could maybe beat up. Even though you have a spiky belt.

The guy on the right: Guy on the right, I want to like you. You're nice, but every time I come over, we watch Friends and you keep asking me if I want anything else. Guy on the right, you already made two bowls of popcorn. Relax. And it's okay that you made the error that cost our softball team the playoffs. Yeah, I'm still pissed, but I always knew you would eventually screw things up. We just put you on the team because you show up a half hour early to every game and prevent us from forfeiting. Where did you get a plain black hat anyway?

Conversely, I made a collage to show how happy I am whenever I wear flannel (sorry adoring fans, can't reveal my true identity).



I'm smiling. It appears that I have friends (see random hands in right hand photos)! That kind of magic doesn't happen in a turtleneck, let me tell you.

I'm still full of pent up anger from someone comparing freaking turtlenecks to flannel, so I'm going to unleash a little fury on a couple other topics that I feel strongly about.

Oh no you didn't... wear Polo stuff. I hate your Polo polo. I hate the royal blue one with the red horseman. I hate the purple one with the gold horseman. I hate your Polo shorts. Why did you have to stick a stupid horseman on a perfectly good pair khaki shorts? I hate your Polo pocket t-shirt. (Actually, I kind of like your Polo pocket t-shirt, but that's the only Polo thing of yours that I like. And if you wear a Polo t-shirt with a big old logo in the middle and no pocket, then screw you.) I really hate your Polo dress shirt. Real classy. Maybe they can embroider A&F on the other side. Or NASCAR on the back. If you pair it with a Polo tie, you're a lost cause. I hate your half-zip sweater thing. I don't care if you got the gray one with the blue horseman or the blue one with the gray horseman. (Is it reversible?)

This is not personal. I just really don't like your Polo stuff. Take any boring article of clothing, stick the stupid horseman on it, and now it's "classy". Ditto for La Coste. It reminds me of a Pink song or something. How long can she keep churning out crap before we get sick of the monotony and kick the habit?

There's one exception to the not-personal statement above. The big horseman. You = Guy on the Left.

Oh no you didn't... Drop Shot Blog. I'm a fan. I think you've been doing some fine work. But you threw down the gauntlet with your egregious, arrogant, generally mean-spirited Scrabble Challenge:

"Hi friends! I have an important announcement to make, so this post will be brief. I will be bringing a Scrabble board back to Boston, which I am pretty excited about. This is my official open challenge to anyone who wants to play. Let me know if you're up for a game! In the meantime, get your game face on... "

Listen, Drop Shot Blog, I see your little dictionary-esque "About Me" section. That doesn't scare me. When Stump trivia asked which letters appeared twice on a single tile in Scrabble Espanol, I didn't flinch. "L" and "R". Heck, I could probably play Scrabble in hieroglyphics. I was already deep in the Scrabble scene when you were still eating Alphabet cereal. I could make a seven letter word out of a can of Spaghetti O's. I would drop a triple word score on my grandma.

You play for fun. I play for keeps, Drop Shot.

Other stuff

1. I have the same glasses as Laney Boggs in "She's All That".



2. I envy this blog. "A blog where I tell cute animals what's what". The followers are the best part. They just keep right on ripping on the cute animal once BZA is done. It makes me smile to think about people sitting at work just itching for a fresh target. What's it going to be today? Refresh, refresh, refresh. A deer? Oh Bambi, wait until I'm finished with you.

"Like I need you to f-ing smile at ME, Deer. You've let all those antlers go to your head. (zing!)"

-Kurt

3. An Allen Iverson quote I missed. After coming off the bench for 18 minutes (too few, in his humble opinion), AI said: "I can play 18 minutes with my eyes closed and a 100-pound truck on my back." Hold on. A hundred pound truck?

The Honest Godfather

I lifted this opening sentence from every high school essay I ever wrote: "Life is confusing. It's hard to define a moral code, to find a true calling, and to form a sense of purpose." In the subsequent five paragraphs (exactly five paragraphs, of course), I would expound on how a particular experience or person shaped Huck Finn's/Holden Caulfield's/King Lear's/Janie Crawford's worldview.

Aside: Janie Crawford is the main character from "Their Eyes Were Wacthing God". Don't worry, I didn't actually remember the main character's name from "Their Eyes Were Watching God". I don't remember anything about that book, except that it was the worst assigned reading I had to choke through in high school. In college, the worst was the first piece of assigned reading: "Refuge". This memoir has two parallel plots: one is about a mother and daughter who struggle against breast cancer; the other is about a dying wildlife sanctuary in Utah. Gaaaah.

I don't know when someone will finally get around to writing a high-school-assigned-reading-style novel about me, but future author take notice: I had my worldview-shaping moment this past Wednesday.

Since graduating from the fake world, I have been unable to answer the tough questions. OMG, what do I want to do with my life? OMG, what am I truly passionate about? OMG, do I believe in MG? OMG, is that song Death Cab For Cutie? I was lost. I was unsure what really mattered.

Enter The Honest Godfather (THG). Actually, enter THB. THG was already there, there being Boston Beer Works at 6:30pm on Wednesday, April 1, 2009. Celtics vs Bobcats in t-minus-one-hour. I was so busy talking to people I already know that I almost turned a cold shoulder on the smartest guy in the room. Thankfully, THG was not deterred. THG saw the disciple in me, crying out for guidance. He slapped me on the shoulder, and said eight words I'll never forget: "I'm going to be on the Jumbotron tonight".

How could he be so certain? I looked him over. I had to admit: he was Jumbrotron material. It wasn't so much the shoes: white, worn in Asics. It wasn't so much the jeans: a light shade of denim that none of the cool kids wear anymore and cut in a style that tapers in to the ankle ("white Asics sneaker cut" is the technical term, I think). It wasn't so much the jersey: a green Larry Bird (jersey 33, as noted by the Light Funky Ones) paired with a t-shirt of the exact same shade of green. A really nice jersey - don't get me wrong - but you don't stand out in a Celtics jersey at a Celtics game. It wasn't that he had a sign or a wig or some such gimmick. No. It was the mullet. It was beautiful. It was formed of tight gray curls that looked like chain mail. It may function as chain mail, too; I don't know. It stopped just below the shoulders. He had a matching goatee, which he kept neat.

I google-imaged "mullet", and, while some mighty fine 'dos pop up, none are too similar to what THG brought to the table. The closest likeness I can find is JCVD's brother in "Kickboxer". This doesn't do THG justice, but it's the best I can do. JCVD's brother is on the left. See the tight curls, matched with facial hair? Shorten the front, lengthen the back, tighten the curls, color it gray, and you have THG's 'do (roughly). Remove the muscles and insert a low hanging beer gut, and you have his physique.



So he looked the part. But I had to ask:

THB: "How do you know you'll be on the Jumbotron?"
THG: "All the camera guys know me. As long as one comes to my section, he'll put me on. Were you at Game 6 on the Finals?"
THB: (blushing) "No, unfortunately I wasn't."
THG: "I got on the Jumbotron that game, too. I was the guy with green hair! And my hair was a little longer back then. I was on the Jumbrotron a bunch of times. The best part was when I came here. I walked in and said hello to the bouncer. He knows me because I come here all the time. Then I was in here and some guy had green hair dye. So I was like, 'Why not?'. I went in the bathroom and dyed my hair. When I walked out, the bouncer was like, 'What the heck is going on?!'".
THB: "Because you walked in with normal (what was I talking about) hair and left with green hair?"
THG: "Yeah! He was like, 'what the heck is going on?! Is this a bar or a hair salon?!'"

Or a classroom? Because THG wasn't finished imparting his wisdom. The lecture went on:

THG: "This place has some pretty good beer. But it's pricey. The way to do it is to brew your own beer. You go up to IncrediBrew in Nashua. If you get a group, it's buy five kettles and get a sixth free. Each kettle holds 77 bottles. And not regular bottles, 22 or 24 oz bottles. And you can brew whatever kind you want, they have lots of good recipes. You bring those home, and you're set. It's much cheaper than buying beer. Wherever you go, you bring them with you. Parties, wherever."
THB: "That sounds like a pretty good deal."
THG: "Wherever you go, you bring them with you. When you fly, you pack 15 bottles in a cooler. Wrap them in newspaper, and you can check them. When I travel with my wife, we check three coolers and one bag with clothes (if that ain't love, then I don't know what love is). It's a great deal, you have all the beer you need. 45 beers. And those are 22 or 24 oz bottles, so it's really double. But airlines charge you for checked bags now. It sucks. That's why you gotta fly Jet Blue. They let you check one bag for free. That's 15 beers! And the second bag is only fifteen dollars. That's a dollar a beer. 22 or 24 oz bottles too, so it's more like a dollar for every two beers."
THB: "Not too bad. Especially compared to what they charge in bars."
THG: "I know. It's way better. I just went out to California for a long weekend to visit [I forget who]. I checked my clothes and took two coolers. When we came back, they were all empty. That's thirty 22 or 24 oz beers over the weekend!"
THB: "Holy mackerel!"
THG: "Yeah. It's good stuff too. My buddy here used to only drink Bud Light."

He points to his buddy, to whom he hasn't said a word in the last half hour. His buddy is wearing cargo pants and has a wicked crew cut, one of those with the completely shaved sides. Except his is only shaved three quarters of the way up, so he kind of looks like he has a bowl cut. Aside: I called a "bowl cut" a "bull cut" for my entire childhood.

THG: (continues) "Used to drink nothing but Bud Light. Now I got him trying all kinds of things. Stouts. Even a Chocolate Raspberry wine. And he loves it. Hey, I was just telling this guy how much you like the beers we brew at IncrediBrew. Stouts and everything."
THG's friend with bowl cut: "Yeah, they're good." He orders a Hub Light (Boston Beer Works's equivalent of Bud Light).
THG: "The best part is people don't know what to think when you take out one of the 22 or 24 oz bottles. They look at you and are like, 'What is that?'. Because you have a 22 or 24 oz bottle with a label that no one recognizes. It's great. If you share one, people love it".
THB: "Do they have labels? Or do you have to make your own?"
THG: "They've got some labels there. But I make my own sometimes. I made a glacier beer once. It was a nice beer, a glacier beer. I made this label, it had a pair of tits on it, and they were pointing at two beers. On the label, it said: 'Which one of the beers is cold?', and one of the lady's nipples was hard! Because it's a glacier beer! Get it? But you can do anything you want."

We saw THG at the game. We were in the top row of section 307, riding the wall. THG's seat was over in section 304, in the second-to-top row. THG did not use his seat. He stood throughout. And sure enough, when Ray Allen sunk a tying three with time winding down in OT, the crowd exploded, the DJ put on Metallica, and there on the Jumbrotron was THG, celebrating like crazy, his mullet swinging gloriously across the back of his neck. When Ray Allen hit the game-winning three in double-OT, THG graced the Jumbrotron a second time.

It was a good day for Ray Allen (two clutch three-pointers). It was a good day for THG (two Jumbrotron appearances). But it was a great day for me. I now know what kind of man I want to be.

Appendix

1. Whoever is working the Jumbrotron at the Cleveland Cavaliers arena is doing some good work. During one Cavs possession this afternoon, he played Dr. Dre's "Still D.R.E.". On the ensuing timeout, he played Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up". What range.

2. IncrediBrew exists. I will be planning a trip to Nashua sometime reasonably soon. Let's get a group together to take advantage of the buy-five-kettles-get-one-free offer that THG told me about.

3. IncrediBrew has a competitor in the Boston area. Deja Brew. What a name! It almost lures me in. But I'm going to trust THG. I'm sure he has been to Deja Brew, and he must prefer IncrediBrew.

4. If you aren't in the know about Foodler, you're missing out. You enter your zip code, and everywhere that's open and delivering to your door pops up. You have ratings, menus, even ratings for each menu item. I like telling people about Foodler because it's so cool and I know about it and that makes me cool by the transitive property.

5. IncrediBrew has a beer called the Hopzilla. The below image is either part of the label or the marketing campaign.



IncrediBrew says: "This monster will stomp on your taste buds with gigantic citrus flavors, full pungent hop flavors (in a good way) and a full mouth-feel. We don't even think about filtering this bad boy!"

I'm going. Soon. With a car full of 22 or 24 oz bottles.

O Canada, O Canada, we stand on guard for thee

National pride. I'm for it. At Lifestyle->Sports on Molson.com, this is the list of sponsorships:

1. "All six Canadian NHL teams as well as one U.S. team". (That U.S. team is the Detroit Red Wings, it sounds like it came free with the half dozen. NHL teams = day old doughnuts.) Pop quiz: can you name the six Canadian NHL teams? If not, please put down that honest brew. Answer at bottom.
2. The Canadian Junior Hockey League
3. Team Canada Hockey
4. Hockey Hall of Fame
5. NHLPA (National Hockey League Players Association for you warm weather folk).

Ask any college admissions officer. Well-rounded is so early 00's. It's about showing deep commitment to your one true passion. Like student government. Molson picked hockey, played the Canada card, and I soaked it up. Early acceptance! Full financial aid!

But, Molson, you have to be careful not to take it too far. There are times when someone says or does something so unbelievable that you just don't know how to respond. You stop for a minute and wonder if we're all on the same planet. Two examples come to mind:

1. The first time Mitalee visited my home, one of my THB-squared's was anxious to impress with his worldliness: "Oh, you're actually from India. That's where they have all the stray dogs, right?"

2. This fall, I arrived home to find an alarmed David Steinberg. For this conversation, substitute "handy" for "honest" in THB.

DS: "Dude, the light went out. I think we need to call an electrician."
THB: "Did you change the bulb?"
DS: "Oh."

Molson = Canada = Hockey + Beer. Hard to argue with that. Then, someone at Molson had one of those are-you-kidding moments. But they didn't just say it out loud. They printed it on their label.

Answer honestly: would you rather...give up sex for the rest of your life or watching hockey?

Well-

Tha-

I don't know what to say. I showed the bottle to someone. I swear it's real.

Extra stuff to amuse you since I can't add anything more to the main post

In a coincidence of epic proportions, a third stupid-comment example just occurred while I was writing this piece of the post, and I, THB, was the guilty party. "No!" you exclaim. But yes. DS and I are watching 24. (He is also blogging. I find this amusing. We are having a friendly conversation about 24 while I make fun on him on my blog and he likely makes fun of me on his blog.)

THB: I can't believe Jack is dying. (NB: he was just exposed to a deadly biological weapon).
DS: He can't die. There's a season 8.
THB: Well, maybe our hero Aaron Pierce will have to take his place.
DS: (Silence)
THB: (Grasping for the words that just escaped his mouth. Unsuccessfully.)
DS: I am not going to dignify that.

Damn it. Take Jack's place? Get serious, THB.

A list of Top 1's (starting with a couple related to our Northern Neighbors):

Top 1 national anthem in the world: Canada.

Top 1 thing about Canada: Table shuffleboard. This is a great table game involving finesse, strategy, touch, and even power at times. They love it in Canada because it's like curling.

Top 1 worst fast food meal: The McRib. Remember that thing?



Believe it or not, the history of the McRib is fascinating. It tested extremely well in Nebraska. Not surprising. But read the part about McDonald's simultaneously launching a McRib farewell tour and a Save the McRib fake-grassroots campaign.

Top 1 most useless person: A tie between those other two judges on American Idol. I don't know their names. You don't either. They're worthless and annoying and they always just agree with Simon anyway. With unemployment above 0% as it is today, these bums should be out of a job.

Top 1 music video I saw on Boston Sports Club TV this week: Paula Abdul's "Straight Up". A+! And, to this very day, it appears Paula insists on having things straight up. Like her pre-show drink or eight (ba-dump-a-dump).

Top 1 funniest article I've ever read on the internet: I realize this is no small Top 1. I have read lots of funny things on the internet. But this could be my #1.

This article came out after the Gillette Mach 3 and Schick Quattro challenged conventional thought on how many blades a man needs to finish off a close shave and have a disproportionately good-looking woman come stroke his face. But it came out two years before the Gillette Fusion! Unreal. I think someone at Gillette read this and thought: "This just might work".

Answer to the pop-quiz: Montreal Canadians, Toronto Maple Leafs (yes that's the plural), Vancouver Canucks, Edmonton Oilers, Calgary Flames, and Ottawa Senators.

The verdict is still out on Darwin, but Mendel knew his stuff

This morning, I sent my mom an email with my Sweet 16 picks (we do the tournament round-by-round in my house). I couldn't remember if I'd already sent them to her earlier in the week. I joked that this verifies I have her genes. My mom has a lousy memory. She once drove by a turn that she was supposed to take twice in a row. In retrospect, I'd rate this joke as a solid 0 out of 10. I'm not sure it even qualifies as a joke.

It dawned on me that this isn't even the best example of genetics in action. I thought I was original when I started this blog. Somehow I forgot that my dad has been the de-facto leader of the online fishing community for some time. He rules his domain from the best chair in our house, which he calls his throne and occupies almost always. At this point, it's not that throne, but I'm worried that transition may occur over time, especially with the prevalence of enlarged prostates, causing regular guys to need to use the restroom at all critical times (sporting events, photo opportunities, etc).

His moniker is "numbskull", and here's a link to his profile. I have to say I'm a little concerned about the short autobiography: "Usually skunked". I don't know what that means, but it doesn't sound good. He has posted 2,770 times since joining in November 2005. That's a prodigious rate of about 2.7 posts per day. You know what the most remarkable part is? I couldn't really find any embarrassing material (unless you count a penchant for using little colorful smiley faces). To my surprise, he appears to be an upstanding online citizen.

Speaking on upstanding online citizens, look at the banner ad on StriperTalk by Markus. (If it's not the same as mine, then Big Brother Google has identified me as a creep.)

"My name is Markus and I created PlentyOfFish.com; my site is free and we created 800,000 relationships last year. The majority of users are professionals and users who are serious about meeting someone. If you are looking for someone, you may as well join us, we have millions of people and best of all we are free! You aren't going to meet anyone trolling supermarkets or bars."

A few notes:
1. 800,000 relationships. That number is more inflated then David Steinberg's page hit count, which he has attempted to bloat by putting a trick link to his own site in his latest Twitter-like excuse for a post.
2. Professionals. Hmmm, what profession?
3. Notice Markus does not identify the minority of users. I don't want to know.
4. The assertion that you won't meet anyone trolling in supermarkets or bars. Probably not. Trolling usually involves unwieldy tackle and live bait. But if you do meet someone under those conditions, it's love.

Here's a real profile from PlentyOfFish, entitled "Looking for that one bite". At first, I was skeptical about dread66. He doesn't look much like a fisherman (see photo). But his emotional side, revealed in the About Me, just hooks me! A snippet:

"Your fingertips touch and smooth my skin
As you pull my dreads so tenderly"

This gives me a new business idea. My last idea: Segway tours of New Orleans. I had the New Orleans tourism market cornered. We had just got off of a tour bus. It was packed. It was boring. The tour guide pointed out a Walgreens. Unfortunately, I later learned that someone beat me to the punch with Segway tours. I am hoping to trump all with the Deja Vu Segway Tour of New Orleans.



However, I have thus far been unable to secure a use agreement on the requisite government technology ("a time window and Einstein-Rosen bridge through seven satellites that allows Denzel to look back four and a half days in time"), which limits my competitive advantage. Here's the new idea: hobby-specific internet dating sites that require themed profiles.

Site 1: "Lack a hitting partner? At RallyMates.com, we know that love, like tennis, is a game for two. We'll help you find the partner that gives you the confidence and comfort you need to put all your shots deep in the court!"

Site 2: "Feeling more like a pawn than a king? Come to CheckMate.com, where you'll learn the strategy you need to stay on the board late into the game and corner the queen of your dreams."

Site 3: "In the gutter? Does she keep splitting? At OnlyStrikes.com, we'll straighten you out and put you in the perfect lane to bowl her over. All you have to do is remember the clean socks!"

Who's with me? If you have a government contact, we'll combine these themed sites with the Deja Vu Segway Tour. Just think: you take your date on the tour. You mess it up (you're an internet dater after all). But you're not done. Four and half days later, you re-do the tour and correct your mistakes. Or you just give up and take the Other New Orleans Deja Vu Tour.

Loyal fans, hold tight!

I hear your cries! It's been almost a week, and no new posts. You're wondering if you can even go on. You're wondering if you even want to go on.

Fans, I have not forgotten you. I won't bore you with excuses. I promise you: new posts are on the way. I will soon leave boring-busy-land and resume the fast, furious, steroid-enhanced posting that you have come to expect.

So step back from that ledge, my friend.

No easy buckets

Did you know Barack only has one 'r'? I almost made a big error. Anyhow, B-money's approval rating is dropping. This bothers me.

Where do they get these ratings? Who rates Barack poorly? I mean, what self-respecting American disapproves of a president who can do this:



Barack! Hamming it up with a little back stretch, a couple quick dynamic groin stretches. Then, splash! Kind of a herky-jerky old-man shot, but a bucket is a bucket in my 'hood. If you have a few minutes, read this article from Time. This is my favorite article about Obama. Heck, it's about more than Obama. It's about how you can tell if someone's a decent guy. And Barack gets the ultimate complement: "Your boy is straight, and he can ball."

Barack got a lot of press for picking his NCAA bracket. He was probably alt-tabbing between some important briefing and the live gamecast all afternoon. And I like that. I like imagining that my day was probably kind of like the top dog's:

8:00am: Arrive at client site.
8:05am: Read NBA Daily Dime on ESPN.com
8:10am: Check work email. See office pool for NCAAs
8:15am: Print bracket. Walk by coworkers to pick up suspicious single sheet of paper that does not appear to have come from any Microsoft Office program. Hold face down and walk away briskly like I'm in a big hurry.
8:16am: Begin filling in bracket.
8:21am: Shit. How did I end up with Purdue in the Elite 8? I think they start a white guy.
8:25am: Print bracket #2. Walk by coworkers to pick up second even-more-suspicious single sheet of paper. Positively speed walk out of the printer area.
8:27am: Faaaaaaack. This time I put Mississippi State in the Elite 8. Why can't I get this bottom left bracket looking half reasonable? I really should pick the final four and then work backwards.
8:30am: Stare at bracket open on computer. Can we print #3? I don't know.
8:45am: What if I print some random Powerpoint right afterward? Yeah, that'll work. Print random Powerpoint and copies #3 and #4 of bracket (adapt or perish).
9:00am: Done with bracket.
9:05am: How does a fax machine actually work? Who can I ask, seeing as I'm holding two brackets and we've passed the 9:00am threshhold?
9:15am: There's a young looking guy. Ok, 9-1-then the number. Face down. Thanks.
9:30am: Did Alexander Graham Bell make this fax machine? I could probably drive over and hand-deliver this bracket faster. And I wouldn't be standing next to a fax machine staring intently at the little fax progress screen.
9:35am: Ok, we're out.
9:40am: Coworker #1 starts filling his bracket. He puts Kansas in the Final 4. Start making fun of him.
9:50am: Kansas? Are you living in the past? Do you own a TV? Why don't you just drop your five dollars in the shredder box?
10:00am: Coworker #2 didn't know about the bracket. Now he's filling his in. A homer, taking alma mater UNC all the way. How's Lawson's ankle, huh? You willing to put your five dollars on it?

...

1:05pm: Alt-tab: Good start, LSU looking strong.
1:06pm: Alt-tab: Ooop, there's a complicated looking spreadsheet. =IF(ISERROR(VLOOKUP(B6,
1:07pm: Alt-tab: Atta boy, Thorton!
1:08pm: Alt-tab: Wait, what's that I see? Is coworker #2 watching, too? Game over. Alt-tab back.
2:05pm: Still watching. Left thumb and pinky in the alt-tab position, starting to cramp up

...

4:32pm: Undefeated! But, ooooh, Mississippi St is losing, which will completely kill my lower left corner. Gotta get to a real TV.

It makes me smile to think about Barack sitting in the Oval Office doing the same thing. Too bad that only ranks as the second most bad-ass thing a president has done in the Oval Office lately. That we know about.

Barack picked North Carolina to win it all. Coworker #2 is an avid North Carolina fan and informs me that Barack attended a North Carolina practice and participated. Tyler Hansbrough (nicknamed "Pyscho-T" because he talks to his biceps while he works out - I mean, who does that?) even let Barack take it to the rack for an uncontested lay-up.

The question: if you were Psycho-T (shudder at the thought, I know), would you...let Barack score an easy bucket or put an authoritative veto on his drive?

(Yes, I'm just making up my own questions at this point. I'm out of Molson Canadians and I'm pretty well lodged on Big Blue, my denim couch.)

Look, I understand that Pyscho-T was trying to have a sane, non-eye-bulging moment. That doesn't excuse it. No one - not even the president - is above the code.

Answer honesty: would you prefer...to be able to fly or to be able to eat any amount of food without getting full or sick?

Thanks to Mark, the head (oooohhh) of the in-flight crew on this evening’s Delta flight 1476, departing Atlanta at 2135 hours and arriving New Orleans’s Louis Armstrong airport at 2210 hours (no chance), I just learned that they’ll be showing short “Delta TV” program on my flight. Mark has some headsets, which I can purchase for a price of $2.00. And – listen to this – if I pull the trigger, I can use them on future Delta flights and with my own personal electronic devices. Mark! You should have mentioned what a deal I was getting sooner! It’s almost like I would own the headphones.

Wait a second, Mark. What’s the catch? Is it illegal to use these headphones on a friend’s personal electronic devices? Is there a punishment for using these hard-to-come-by audio devices on non-Delta flights? Would you seat me behind a fat guy who decides to recline his chair and uses his excess lard to get a little bonus recline, forcing me to balance my computer on my lap like a “V”, hunched over and typing like I have little raptor arms? It’s hard to imagine how miserable that would be…

Mark, you have a lot to learn as a salesman. You had me going. I was reaching for two crumpled Washingtons, and then you slip in the deal-breaker. I can use my headphones at no charge to me. Any implicit restrictions on where I can use my headphones? None. What charity! Sorry, Mark, forget your $2.00 headphones. I’ll enjoy this montage of outdated sitcoms on some non-Delts.

Change of subject: The guy next to me ordered a spicy tomato juice on the rocks. No hesitation. What the heck is spicy tomato juice? This man has the look of a distinguished gentleman, one who knows his way in the world. I thought: does this debonair fellow know something I don’t? And I ordered one myself, side of peanuts. Yuck! I mean, Jesus, yuck! Forget the hard stuff. With each sip of this STJ, I can feel hair growing on my back. Melt, rocks, melt. Help me out!

Small irony: the pack of “Fisher Party Peanuts” (it’s always a party when you cruise on Mark’s seven-four-seven with headphone happy hour) has a coupon on it. “Save fifty cents on any Fisher Snack Nut Item 5oz or larger.” When have you ever run into a pack of Fisher Party Peanuts that wasn’t (a) smaller than 5oz and (b) free on a Delta flight?

Two deep thoughts:
1. If I’m writing in Word without internet access, am I really blogging? Even if I plan to paste the results into my blog?

2. It’s challenging to put together a blog post without Wikipedia, Google Images, and YouTube. Nonetheless, like my main man (group? hard to know without Al Gore’s marvelous creation) J5 said:
“I’m taking it back to the concrete [text].
Original [sentences], real live [ideas].
The playground tactics, rabbit-in-the-hat tricks.
Mumble mumble ah-icks”


That brings me to a reader question. Would you prefer…to be able to fly or to eat any amount of any food without any adverse health effects or feeling sick?

On one hand, a superhuman power. On the other, the properties of my stomach from when I was fifteen. The unknown vs. the known. Tough question. The iron stomach is, quite frankly, awesome. On my fifteen year old stomach’s curriculum vitae, we have

1. Pregame lacrosse meal at Steve’s Pizza in Falmouth, MA. Four dollars, all-you-can-eat, greasy American pizza. The kind with a half inch thick crust and a half inch thick crust of cheese. The kind that, on the first slice, you take a napkin and mop off the grease. The napkin is instantly orange and translucent. You move onto a fistful of napkins and pound away because that’s the only way to bring the temperature lower than the sun’s. Then, you bid adieu to the roof of your mouth, and bite in. After slice 1, you dispense with the grease mopping. What’s the point?

Sans peer pressure or impromptu eating contests, my fifteen year old stomach canned nine slices. Hey, THB’s fifteen year old stomach, what did you wash that down with? Some Sprite? Water? Two chocolate milks.

No one pushed me around in the game. That’s not true. My fifteen year old stomach processed the meal without any noticeable effect on mass or mobility. In fact, at halftime, my fifteen year old stomach refueled with – not oranges – Oatmeal Crème Pies, among the densest materials known to mankind.

2. Easter Brunch at the Flying Bridge Restaurant in Falmouth, MA. A classy performance in a semi-classy venue. You know what Easter is like: white tablecloths, all patrons dressed in their finest pastels, the local sk8er bois waiting tables in white tuxedo dress shirts. Easter brunch is for families (except for the two to three lone wolves at the bar sucking down Bloody Marys), and it’s (again) all-you-can-eat. I’m not proud to admit that my grandparents were on hand for this mauling.

We’d all battled long and hard against the buffet. My fifteen year old stomach had already mowed through a cornucopia of rich food: ham, roast beef, eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, homefries, pasta with pesto cream sauce, and – everyone’s favorite – two Eggs Benedict. The dessert table tensed up, fearing the wrath of my fifteen year old stomach. The normal food tables breathed a deep sigh of relief. And that’s when my fifteen year old stomach switched back into attack mode, inhaling up two more EBs – shining white ovulets, in English muffin boats, adrift in a sea of cheese sauce, with a life preservers fashioned of ham (EBs inspire me to poetry) - to the wide-eyed horror of my grandparents, who had lived an honest god-fearing life in which mere mortals cannot guzzle un-hatched chickens drenched in cheese sauce at such a dizzying pace. Their gaping eyes asked: four? My fifteen year old stomach shrugged and wandered off to find the dessert table.

If Madden had rated my fifteen year old stomach, it would have gotten the following ratings:
Overall: 96
Starting volume: 87
Ability to expand beyond full capacity: 100
Iron-ness: 100
Speed: 98

An overall 100? The Tom Brady of stomachs, yours for keeps? That would be wonderful.

You might have gathered: I’m not in the most jovial of moods about flying right now. Flight, flying, airplanes, airborne, “The Air Up There”, Sugay Ray, “I stay fly-eye-ya-yai-ya-yai-ya-yai-yai”. Not right now (or ever again, in the case of the last one). I mean, on the surface, human flight seems like a dream come true. But let’s dig a little deeper. The cannon of popular culture gives a clear warning: “You got [human flight], you got a responsibility…You don’t just give up. You get out there, [fly around,] and [save tons of] f-ing [people]” (“Billy Madison”, minute 26).

Five for Fighting touches on the stereotyping that accompanies human flight in their formerly Buzzworthy song about Superman: “I’m more than a man, a silly red cape, I’m more than mumble mumble out in the mumble. It’s not easy. To. Be. Me.” When these lyrics entered my fifteen year old ear canals, I knew that these five almost-middle-aged guys (who are in favor of brawls) really understood my angst. I may not have been superman, but it wasn’t (sob) easy (sob) to be me either.

Finally, we have “Hancock”. I didn’t see this. You shouldn’t see this. If ever a terrible film has been released to make some dolla bills even though everyone involved knew it was terrible, this is it. But the previews get the message across: Will/Hancock is cracking under the pressure that comes with being able to fly. I mean, think about all the stuff people are going to ask you to do. You can’t just sit around and stuff your face. Play that Sublime song: “Riots on the streets of Long Beach. Riots on the streets of ”. Everyone would call you. Now you can fly. But you can’t be in twenty cities at the same time. And you can’t diffuse riots. Suddenly, you’re a big disappointment.

In short, I don’t want to have anything in common with Hancock, except potentially the ability to get jiggy wit it if I find myself in a club.

Appendix: Why I hate popular culture oftentimes

Hancock. And Britney’s new song “If You Seek Amy”. Pronounced “F-U-C-K me”. Yup. That’s where we are.

My often-time hatred for popular culture really developed in junior high. When someone says “OMG have you heard so-and-so’s new song? It’s sooooo good” and they act like they are Chris Columbus discovering the new world, I get angry. Maybe it’s because I have never heard this new song. I’m still on the song from last week. I updated my AOL profile favorite quotes to “A little bit of you makes you me a man” too late. Lou What’shisface and “Mambo Number Five” were already on their descent into anonymity. “Country Grammar” was the in vogue. People probably send instant messages behind my back with little laughing (at me) smiley faces. And then asked each other who they like right now. I’ll tell you if you tell me first. No, I’ll say and then you won’t tell me. Yes I will. No you won’t. Where did the last four hours go?

Product review: Seabiscuit audio book. This gets full THB backing. Five Bros or whatever. It was so enthralling that I almost ran out of gas. Seabiscuit was about to race his arch rival War Admiral one-v-one. They were determining who gets the key inside starting position. If Seabiscuit didn’t get it, he would be handicapped as War Admiral has famously fast breaking speed and would secure the inside track. The gas light in my Pontiac G6 rental made a beep when it came on. I was aggravated. What was f-ing with my listening experience? Thank goodness it did. I was forty miles from home and no immediate plans to stop for gas. None whatsoever.

I cried at the end. I was cruising down the Mass Pike in tears. The ending was so glorious, so triumphant. It’s times like these that I’m glad THB masks my real identity.

Second product review: Delta cookies: Four bros out of five. They aren't bad.

Breakfast All Day

Last summer, I was out in thriving Western Pennsylvania, which I have capitalized since it has its own Wikipedia page. I don't know how it got its own Wikipedia page. The average age of the population is "old". The major industry in the region is collecting social security checks. Who's out there in Western PA whipping up Wikipedia pages? Who even told Western PA about the Internet?

Anyhow, my brothers (THB-squareds) and I were looking for some breakfast around 1300 hours. We needed a place that served breakfast all day. Denny's, I thought. But find a Denny's we could not. Don't ask me how we couldn't find a Denny's - they outnumber people in the region - but somehow we couldn't. VFWs? Check. Flea markets? Aplenty. Oldsmobiles? Ubiquitous (thank you, Princeton Review). But no Denny's.

Aside: "Hey, what about a local diner?" you might ask. You've never been to Western PA. Chains only. Same with the Cincinatti area. Civil engineering doesn't require a degree in either of these places. It's more like a half hour seminar. Build one big wide straight road. Then, turn on your TV and build every commercial. Every single one. Home Depot, Walmart, PepBoys, McDonald's, BK, Wendy's, Applebee's, Chili's, Papa John's etc. Even freaking Red Lobster. This model of civil engineering is the only explanation for how there are as many Red Lobsters as there are.

Then, lo and behold, an oasis in the desert:



We don't have Perkins in the northeast. Yet. But when I saw this visage, I immediately thought: "That's a breakfast-all-day place if I've ever seen one". The nice green and white striped awning. The "Family Restaurant" moniker. Had to be a breakfast all day joint. I mean they sure aren't selling enough "Seafood Sensation" to stay open. I hope. I popped open the menu, and what do I see scrawled across the top? "Breakfast. Served all day!". Like heavily commercialized pop music to my ears.

I hope Perkins expands to the northeast. I'm worried that Perkins is not expanding though. I'm worried that Perkins is contracting, or that Perkins went out of business in the late 1970's but the news never reached Western PA. In any case, Perkins has a few features that make it a prime breakfast all day venue:

1. "Mammoth muffins". When you're in breakfast all day mode, you don't want a puny muffin. You want a puny muffin when you're in trying-to-kind-of-be-healthy mode. Then you can pretend a small butter-sponge is good for you with arguments like "it's full of bran" or "it has fruit in it". Perkins doesn't mess around. There's a weight watchers forum on the danger of Perkins muffins. Contributor momof3rugratz (she uses "z" liberally, as you'll see) has two thoughts on whether to eat the Perkins muffins that the inquisitor's sister brought home:

03-26-2005, 12:50 AM
:) Toss them to the dogz and back way far far way

03-31-2005, 01:07 AM
Bran muffins to me I thinkgive u gas. I have had them 3 times each time my poor tummy.

That's a muffin.

2. When you order anything on the menu, you get everything. Want eggs? Comes with a side of pancakes. Want pancakes? Comes with a side of eggs and bacon. Want a seafood sensation? No you don't.

3. They have a bakery in the restaurant for desserts.

4. It has the same name as my favorite member of the Celtics starting five: Kendrick Perkins. Why do I love Kendrick Perkins? Kendrick Perkins's mentor is Kevin Garnett, who's completely and utterly insane. Some announcer once said that Kendrick Perkins is a monster of KG's creation:



Kendrick Perkins has a scowl on his face at all times. He doesn't just scowl when things go wrong. He scowls when they go right, too. I'm sure he was scowling during the video, but unfortunately the camera didn't catch it.

This brings me to the main point. Kendrick Perkins needs a nickname. Each of the other members of the starting five have nicknames. Ray Allen = Jesus (Shuttlesworth). KG = The Big Ticket = The Kid (I suppose KG is a nickname of sorts as well). Paul Pierce = The Truth.

Aside: How did Paul Pierce get a nickname as awesome as The Truth? After the Celtics beat the Lakers 112-107 on the ides of March, 2001, Shaq (then a Laker) pulled a reporter aside and said: "Take this down. My name is Shaquille O'Neal and Paul Pierce is the (expletive) truth."

Rajon Rondo = ET.




Three Celtics bench players even have nicknames. Glen Davis = Big Baby. Stephon Marbury = Starbury. Brian Scallabrine = The White Guy. It's time we got Perk a nickname.

Take this down. I'm The Honest Bro and Kendrick Perkins is (expletive) Breakfast All Day.

Wait. His name is Kendrick Perkins, and Perkins is a restaurant where they serve breakfast all day. That's it? Basically. But there's a little more. Kendrick is pear-shaped and has a sort of sloth-like mannerism. He is a man, I imagine, who quite often does not wake up in time for breakfast at a traditional hour. Plus, Kendrick would appreciate Perkins's mammoth muffins. Proportionally, a mammoth muffin for Kendrick would be akin to a normal muffin for me. Kendrick does not like undersized items. Here's an example, which happens to be the complete Personal section of his Wikipedia page:

"Perkins is a practicing Roman Catholic.[3] He was an altar boy in his youth, and it was often problematic to find an alb to fit him due to his height."

Breakfast All Day. B-A-D. Try it on for size. It works well in many basketball scenarios.

Block: "Bam! Have a pancake!" Or: "Breakfast is served!"
Dunk: "Breakfast ALL DAY!"
Assist: "Side dish!"
Jump shot: Kendrick Perkins does not shoot jump shots.
Ejection: Make a mental picture of this:



Appendix: Two tidbits from Wikipedia and one shameless brag

From Wikipedia:

1. KP's Wikipedia page lists his role as the team's enforcer.

2. Perkins was involved in an unusual scenario in the final seconds of regulation in Game 6 of the 2005 Eastern Conference first round against Indiana, Paul Pierce was ejected but Pierce was owed free throws because he had been fouled before the ejection. Under NBA rules, Indiana coach Rick Carlisle chose to select Perkins (who had not played in the game) off the bench to shoot the crucial free throws (the game was tied). Perkins missed both, indirectly leading the game going into overtime, in which the Celtics eventually won.

Shameless brag:

On their return to trivia night, the aptly named "Back like Jordan wearing the four-five" (which the DJ turned into "four to five" at one point, obviously not thinking of how difficult it would be to wear a range of numbers) emerged victorious. The victory was not without peril.

BLJWTF-F was tied for the lead at the end of the third quarter at 69 points. They missed only one two point question through the fourth quarter, yet found themselves down by eight heading into the final two questions. That's mathematically impossible, but not mathematically impossible enough to throw throw BLJWTF-F off their game. Betting the maximum amount of 10 points on each of the final two questions, BLJWTF-F sealed the victory with two clutch correct answers, bringing their score to an astronomical 128 points.

Unfortunately, BLJWTF-F did not claim the award for coolest team name. That went to "My couch pulls out but I don't".

Post match interview with BLJWTF-F enforcer David Steinberg:

THB: Strong performance, you must feel great.
DS: You're on the team, too. So you know how it feels.
THB: Heck yeah I am. We played trivia every week for the whole fall, and the best we did was fourth place. We rarely broke 100. What made the difference tonight?
DS: The absence of Armeen P. Think about it. This is the only time he didn't come.
THB: Interesting angle. So Armeen P's effect on our team is roughly negative 30 points. Anyway, how will you celebrate?
DS: I was going to use the gift certificate we won. But you taped it to the wall, and I'm not sure we're going to be able to get all the tape off without ripping it.
THB: Well, good luck with that. And great work out there.

FMoDscars

FMod = Free Movies on Demand. If you're not familiar with this section of your cable box, it could be bad sign. You might be a person who always thinks they're really busy all the time. Once you take a brief timeout, you'll realize most people hate you.

Aside: Someone once told me that the Chinese sign for "busy" is a combination of the signs for "heart" and "dead". If that's true, it would support my previous point. But I'm skeptical because (a) the person who told me was from Cape Cod and (b) if you ask me, there's a whole lot of BS translations (transliterations?) of Chinese signs flying around out there. The only person I'd really trust to translate a Chinese sign is a tattoo artist. "Oh is that really the sign for 'Star Princess'? It looked different in the Oxford Chinese-English dictionary. What, you say the dictionary is wrong? Ok...yeah, right there on my lower back. Great."

Or you could just be someone who can afford movie channels, Netflix, or real on demand. In any case, here are the top five films you're missing:

(Note: "Hackers" belongs on this list, but I omit it in this list since I spent so much time talking about it last time.)

Honorable mention: 3 Ninjas: High Noon at Mega Mountain



I'm 99% sure this belongs on the real list (if only for the title). But I've never been able to get past the first ten minutes (I've tried three times). This is Hulk Hogan playing a character named Dave Dragon. Dave is rich and crazy (it's good acting from Hulk). In the first ten minutes, he kicks the crap out of a few of his servants for no reason. I wish I could tell you what happened in the rest.

5. Sniper



The tagline is "one shot, one kill, no exceptions". Veteran sniper Tom Berenger has to teach some young softie what being a sniper is all about. Besides the "one shot, one kill" mantra, Berenger passes along such gems as:

"Ain't no room for Peter Pan on this hunt."
Or "Don't take a piss. Bugs will swarm up through your d***. Good night."

It's a classic plot, lacking just that bit of tact that would land it on the vaunted Blockbuster shelves.

4. Mean Guns

I'm just going to give you the plot synopsis straight out of IMDB:

"A gangster boss (Ice-T) has a list of about 100 people who have screwed up at one point or another. Rather than outright killing them, he decides to have a little fun by putting all of them together in a high security prison, unarmed, and dumping bucketfulls of guns, ammo, and baseball bats on them and letting them kill each other. The final three who survive are given a prize of 10 million dollars. Let chaos reign."

Ice-T's character is named Vincent Moon. The self-proclaimed "ultra cool opening to Mean Guns" is apparently so raw that I'm not allowed to embed it. Here's a link. It sets the stage for the high drama that follows.

3. Surviving the Game



This is a whole different ball of wax. Ice-T shows his versatility. Whereas he orchestrated the murder game as Vincent Moon in "Mean Guns", here Mr. T shows his range, playing the prey of the manhunt. Initially.

Because the manhunters didn't just send any old homeless guy into the Montana wildnerness without any food, water, or weapon. They sent Ice-T as homeless Vietnam vet Jack Mason, who "knows he's going to die someday. But today is not that day". Nor is the next day, as we find out after he's forced to spend the night in the wilderness.

Judging by the life expectancy of the homeless (especially those who are about 50 years old and likely used a lot of drugs in Vietnam), Jack's day is not actually that far off. But fortunately he hung in there long enough to give us this "TNT presents" epic.

Along with two of the top five, Ice-T also bags the FMoDscars Lifetime Acheivement Award for having all of his films appear on FMoD simultaneously. Implying there was a point when no one was willing to pay to watch a single Ice-T movie.

2. Maximum Overdrive!

Emmmmmmmmmmmmiiillllllliiiiiiiiiiiooooooooooooooooooooooo. This was almost numero uno. Machines turn on humans, but fortunately Emilio is there to save the day. From his post as a short-order chef in a truck stop. He's got an earring.

We, the viewers, know it's on like Donkey Kong when an ATM switches from having a normal "Deposit, Withdrawal, Enter Pin" ATM screen to a screen that says, simply, "F*** you".

The people in the movie aren't as quick on the uptake. Or as swift in flight.



What you see at the beginning of this clip is a rain of Coke cans. The Coke machine (not pictured) just finished off some other numbskull who stuck his face in front of the dispense area. You see the Coke machine unloading what's left in its clip.

1. Hard Target



You might pick up on the fact that this has the exact same plot as "Surviving the Game". Substitute JCVD for Ice-T. A few things put it in the top slot:

1. That silky, luscious mullet.
2. The iron-like strength of the girl's near uni-brow.
3. The mummy from The Mummy, with hair.
4. The villian's move at the 8:56 point of this clip. Start it around 8:30 (sorry, this scene is only available in the larger clip). I think this is my favorite clip in any movie ever. To set the backdrop, the crew who's trying to kill JCVD just let him escape somehow. Now he's slipped away into the Bayou (where he was born), and the bad guys are worried they won't be able to catch him.



Hey random minion who's not really responsible for this screw-up at all: "Get in the f-ing truck!"

Answer honestly: would you prefer to...ride a skateboard everywhere or rollerskate everywhere?

Yes, this question is real. Somewhere, in the depths of the Molson corporation, there are two guys: Guy A, who came up with this question, and Guy B, who saw the question and thought: "Like it".

Quick aside: Is there just one guy who thinks these questions up and decides which ones to put on the bottle? If so, Guy B needs to enter the picture quick. Could there be more than two guys on this task? If so, real life = The Office, and Dunder-Mifflin might be better at selling paper than Molson is at coming up with either-or questions. You might also ask: how do I know Guys A and B (and any other alphabetic guys) are guys? Trust me, they are.

A few observations:

1. Guy A and Guy B are at least 50 years old. I mean, "ride a skateboard"? I don't think anyone has ridden a skateboard in the last 10-15 years. Try "skateboard". And rollerskate? When I just typed "rollerskate", it appeared underlined in red. I think dictionary editors, who have a real pulse for the times, removed that one following the 1950's.

I just took a quick spin through Molson's web page. Here's Big Important Guy, who heads up Molson's marketing. About what I expected. Big Important Guy, at their HQ in Montreal: "That's what those young-uns are into these days, eh? Whatever happened to tapping a solid pine for a drip of maple syrup. We were all abooot that in my day." (Yes, "eh" and "abooot" were all I could come up with to rip on Canadians. Not my best work.)

2. Bring the question into this millenium. Still, skateboarding vs. rollerblading? Most beer-drinkers have graduated to driving cars. Are they going for the same target audience as Mountain Dew? Namely, that spoiled 12 year old with the brand new Airwalks whose mom always packed him Doritos or Cheetos in his lunch. Kid, please don't lick that neon orange cheese residue of your fingers. Please don't do it. Oh man! You did it! Here, wash it down with a Molson. Yeah, sorry, all out of Dew.

3. On Saturday, I visited Armeen P's unbelievably non-humble abode. His dog Chip needed to use the bathroom and almost chose to do so on Armeen P's porch. In the nick of time, Armeen P chased Chip into the lawn. However, a nugget had peaked it's head out of Chip's (non-bleached, I think), errrr, a-hole. Forget skateboarding or rollerblading. Not Xtreme in this day and age. Nugget-half-out-racing? That's Xtreme. ESPN could combine the X Games and the Outdoor Games on this one.

"Stuart, which lab do you think will make it further?"
"I don't know, Kenny. The consistency of Chip's nug looks a little soupy from here, and I think that's going to cost him down the stretch."
"Astute. I didn't realize you were even looking at the race."

Irony: at the midpoint Armeen P's recent party, he moved all the guests downstairs. Why? Let's just say 60 minutes opened his eyes to some new extra-curriculars - see previous post.

So what's the answer? If you don't know, you haven't explored the Free Movies on Demand (FMoD) section of your cable box (like Big Important Guy, who's distressed by the end of analog TV). Because there's an FMoD classic that's basically dedicated to answering this question. Meet "Hackers". Starring Johnny Lee Miller as Dade (with two hacker aliases, "Zero Cool" and "Crash Override") and, oh yes, Angelina Jolie (with hacker alias "Acid Burn").

Watch closely. At 0:37, you get a fleeting glimpse of the arcade where Zero Cool/Crash Override and Acid Burn hang out. Yes, it has built in ramps to allow easy access on rollerblades. At 1:12, take note of the villian's mode of transportation. We get a candid glimpse into Zero Cool/Crash Override and Acid Burn's dating life at the 1:47 mark. Pick you up at 8? No need, I have my own ride. Finally, hackers of the world unite - in their mode of transport anyhow - in a brief clip at 2:10.



I agree, Angelina should have kept both the boy-cut and the "Acid Burn" moniker. What's the lesson? Skateboarding = evil. Rollerblading = the future. And the future has never looked better. Especially when you see Dade the Blader (my preferred nicknamed over Zero Cool/Crash Override - it almost rhymes) and Acid Burn's intense aquatic make-out session

Sorry, it's against my religion to embed two Hackers clips in a single post. This is good though. Fast forward to the 1:20 or so mark. My main man, Dade the Blader locks it up my hacking into the city's power grid and programming the city lights to say "Crash and Burn". Cue some really nice background music ("Love you today" is the refrain, and there's some feathery electronic instrumentation.) And them blam! Mashing face!

Check your FMoD - it's worth the hour and a half. Or, it appears you can watch this movie on YouTube in 11 segments. Hackers must have pirated the video! Can Warner Bros really be upset? It's the future they imagined, sort of.

This post got me thinking about two things: (1) terrible movies and (2) awesome nicknames. Accordingly, you have two posts to look forward to: (1) FMoD Oscars and (2) the christening of a new nickname for my favorite Celtic, Kendrick Perkins. It's better than "Beast". In my opinion.

I guess you're not The One, Dave

Dear Reader,

I am sorry to dwell on this topic. You don't care. You just want something entertaining. I'm sorry. I'm stubborn. I wish I had the self-control of this guru (the handsome guy in the black polo).


Watch CBS Videos Online

What would I have done? "Chhhyeah, I know what beirut is. A good way to get my daily value of H20. My nutritious breakfast. Do I know what breathing is?" So I need to write this article. Not for you. For me.

In my article "The Lakers reached the 2008 NBA finals: impressive or not?", I made a three part argument:

1. Impressive feats must be difficult.
2. Odds are the best measure of difficulty we have in sports.
3. The Lakers odds to make the 2008 NBA finals were not very low. Therefore, the Lakers making the 2008 NBA finals was not impressive.

In response, Mssr. David Steinberg (MDS) seems to have gotten angry and banged his fist on his keyboard semi-randomly for 6-7 hours. I can extract a few main criticisms from the written diarrhea:

1. You can't apply odds to sports.
2. Your argument implies that favored teams cannot be impressive. Since that's not true (see the 1996 Bulls or Tiger Woods for counterexamples), you're wrong.
3. Your assumptions that lead to 49.7% odds for the Lakers reaching the 2008 NBA finals are wrong.
4. Your joke about igniting the party wasn't funny.

Response to criticism 1: Odds apply to sports. Period. This is why there's a spread when you bet on sports. The line adjusts the odds so that the both teams have 50% odds of beating the spread. Suppose there weren't spreads (implying both teams have a 50% chance of winning straight-up). I would make money by betting on the Lakers to beat the Clippers. I would be right more than 50% of the time. I would have a deeper understanding of reality than everyone else - like Neo! - and I would make lots of money.

Basketball, and most sports besides track, are intricate and complicated. But you can approximate the chances of one team beating another based on the available information. (Thought: if MDS doesn't believe in odds, why aren't I betting against him all the time? I could steal those mega-bucks he's raking in from the credit-score ads on this side of his blog.)

A clarification: odds do not mean the outcome of a game is predetermined. On a given night, the underdog can beat the favorite. They can even outplay the favorite. Odds simply give an indication of how likely that is to occur. When the odds are long, it is more difficult for the underdog to pull it off. They need to play near perfectly to pull it off. They need to put in an impressive performance to pull it off. The longer the odds, the more impressive the performance needed to win in the game.

A second clarification: when a non-favorite wins, that is not necessarily impressive. How long do the odds need to be for a win or accomplishment to be impressive? That's a matter of taste. How difficult does a feat need to be to really impress you?

Response to criticism 2: MDS misrepresents my point. In a single game, the outcome of the favorite winning is not impressive. That does not mean the win cannot be impressive. It can be impressive in at least two ways:

1. The favorite can win by an impressive margin. The Celtics played the Nuggets in Denver on Monday. Is the fact that they won impressive? I don't think so. The odds that the Celtics would win (away and without KG) were probably in the 40-60% range. What impressed me was the margin of victory. What are the odds that, under those circumstances (away and without KG) the Celtics beat the Nuggets by 40? I won't bother guesstimating. But they're low. The win was impressive because it was such a drubbing - the Celtics put in an impressive performance.

2. A team (which could be the favorite) can win from improbable circumstances. What's a good example here? Let's stick with the Celtics. Is the fact that they won Game 4 of the 2008 NBA finals (an away game) impressive? Not very. Their odds of winning were probably somewhere in the 30-50% range. Fast forward to the third quarter when they trailed by 24 points in the third quarter. At this point, their odds of winning were very low. If you played the game from that point, the Lakers win almost every time. It's difficult for the Celtics to come back from that position. But the game is only played once, and the Celtics were gutsy enough to win it. That's impressive.

(There are lots of similar examples: Tiger Woods winning the 2008 US Open by coming from behind on broken leg and torn ACL, Nadal winning the 2009 Australian Open against Federer on hard courts in five sets after playing a 5+ hour match two nights before, and, yes, Kobe scoring 15 in the fourth quarter to help beat the Spurs in the 2008 playoffs).

In addition, a favorite can impress by winning consistently. A good example is the 1996 Bulls. Take any single game. The outcome of the Bulls winning, with arguably the greatest team ever, is not surprising or impressive. (They could win in impressive fashion in either of the two ways above, but the outcome itself is not impressive). The fact that they won 72 games is impressive. Why? Although they are favored to win each game, the Bulls also have some chance of losing each game. That chance is not insignificant - they're playing other NBA teams, as MDS is quick to point out. To win 72 out of 82 games requires a 88% winning percentage. That means the 19996 Bulls either had a 88% chance (on average) of winning each game, or it means they beat the odds by consistently performing on such a high level.

Finally, individual plays and players can impress in all kinds of ways. They can make really difficult shots. They can make difficult shots consistently. They can perform athletic feats that we thought weren't possible. They can perform well in the toughest/most critical of circumstances (when most would be unable to succeed). They can do all three:



Response to criticism 3: Who cares? Make the assumptions much lower. Assume the Lakers have a 60% chance of beating the Nuggets, a 57.5% chance of beating the Jazz, and a 55% chance of beating the Spurs. They still have a 28.5% chance of making the Finals, and their odds are still better than any other team in the West. The outcome of the Lakers reaching the 2008 Finals is still not that impressive to me. If you had to guess who would make it, you would guess the Lakers.


Response to criticism 4: It was funny. The kitchen smelled like gas. One of the hosts said, "Oh shoot, you're leaning the stove." "Just trying to ignite the party," I shot back, without a moment's hesitation. I counted 3-4 chuckles, ranging from polite to almost-genuine, out of the 5-6 people in earshot. And MDS himself gave a chuckle, nay a short chortle, if I remember correctly. He might say he was laughing at me, not with me. Impossible. Because I was laughing at my own joke.

That's it. I'm done. Stay tuned for fresh material and topics you actually care about, coming soon.

The Lakers reached the 2008 NBA finals: impressive or not?

"Hey Honest Bro", you say. "I thought you were going to take on tough questions. Both this and your last post have answered really easy questions".

"Blame Molson for the last one. Blame Mssr. David Steinberg for this one. (I will call him Mssr. to frenchify/emasculate him through the rest of this post)"

"You're making excuses. Have you gone soft? Have you - errr how do I say this - fallen off?"

"Now all I get all day is hate mail sayin' THB fell off.
What, 'cause I been in the lab with a pen and a pad
Tryin' to get this damn blogpost off.
I ain't havin' that. This is the millenium of Aftermath.
Ain't gonna be nothin' after that.
So give me one more blogpost with 20-30 hits,
and forget answering Q's, you can have it back."

A snippet from my latest hit "Forgot about THB". Why am I taking the time to answer this obvious question? Last night (this morning in fact!) between 0100hrs and 0225hrs, Mssr. David Steinberg and I had a stately, civilized debate on the title question. I won, but there were no witnesses to convince the stubborn Mssr. David Steinberg of this, well, undebatable outcome. Now I appeal to you, scores of faithful readers: kindly inform Mssr. David Steinberg that he is a blithering fool.

So that you have the context, let me describe the debating styles of the two participants:

Mssr. David Steinberg (MDS): a proponent of the brute force style of arguing. His motto: if the opponent is never allowed to complete a sentence, the opponent will struggle to put together a coherent argument. This kill-every-sentence tactic is key because MDS fails to make much of a coherent argument himself. Brandishing the volume and intensity of his voice like a large club, MDS is not afraid to employ any and all guerrilla tactics, such as personal attacks, changing the subject of the argument, and telling me that math is false.

THB: a true finesse player. Battle-tested with years of combat against the guru of brute force argumentation (THB's very father), THB has learned to wait patiently for the occasional calm in the storm of the brute force debator. Presented with this opportunity, THB will use a reserved tone of voice to belay his argument in a clear, coherent manner. THB is even prone to support his argument with facts and logic rather than merely increasing the volume of his voice to match the absurdity of his claims.

I will begin with an answer to this question that makes sense. Then, I will do my best to reformulate MDS's view in standard English sentences. Finally, I will relate the conclusion of our discussion.

Section I: THB's viewpoint

The Los Angeles Lakers making the 2008 NBA finals is not impressive. In no way, shape, or form. They had Kobe Bryant, who should have been league-MVP-runner-up to Chris Paul. They had a starting five team built around Kobe, including proven NBA players such as Derek Fisher and Lamar Odom. They had the best bench in the league, including Farmar, Ariza, Vujacic (the most odious player in the game today), and Luke Walton. Many would be borderline starters. They had Phil Jackson, who may go down as the most accomplished coach in NBA history. And then they added an All-Star center in Pau Gasol without giving up a thing. In short, they were stacked.

That they emerged as clear #1 seed heading into the playoffs surprised no one.

What about their competition? In round 1, they faced the Denver Nuggets. The Nuggets limped into the playoffs with a team that clearly didn't work (i.e., they had two ballhogs and no defense). They were dead meat. The Lakers swept them. Only one game was within 10 points. In round 2: they faced the Jazz. It was a good team playing against a stacked team. The Lakers won comfortably in six. Finally, they faced the San Antonio Spurs. The aging Spurs had played two tough series against the Suns and Hornets, and their marquee finisher Manu Ginboli was playing on a badly sprained ankle. The Lakers were younger and better to begin with, and the Spurs were handicapped. It showed. The Lakers won in five.

Was the Lakers' run impressive? That depends on your definition of impressive. I submit my definition:

im.pres.sive (adj): amazing observers by doing something very difficult

Why is it more impressive when a Cinderella team like George Mason reaches the Final Four than when a favorite like Florida wins the tournament? Degree of difficulty. Florida accomplished more, but it was more difficult for George Mason to reach the Final Four. How do we measure difficulty? Through odds. If you play any match-up in sports a hundred times, each team will win some number of those games - 50 in an even match-up. To reach the Final Four, George Mason had to win four games, and their odds of winning each game was less than 50%. Their odds of beating UConn was probably something like, I don't know, 5%. To string four improbable victories together is extremely difficult. It's very impressive. Florida had to win six games to gain the national title, but they were favored in every single one, even the final against UCLA. They had a team full of future NBA players.

Some rough sample math with made-up-but-probably-not-entirely-unrealistic-odds:

Probability of George Mason winning making the Final Four (multiply the probabilities of their winning each game): 40% * 30% * 15% * 5% = 0.01%. One in ten thousand.

Probability of Florida winning the NCAA tournament: 99.9% * 95% * 80% * 75% * 70% * 60% = ~25%. One in four.

That's why George Mason's run is more impressive. And probability shows us why the Lakers run to the NBA finals in not impressive. As you increase the length of a series, the chances of the better team winning increase. If one team beats another 75% of the time, they will win a seven game series 92.9% of the time. That's a big part of the reason that the probability of the Lakers reaching the NBA finals in 2008 was 49.7% (I prove this in appendix). Yeah, that's as impressive as getting tails when you flip a coin.

Note: I don't like the coin-flip analogy since "tails never fails" in practice, but it works in theory.

Section II: MDS's viewpoint

THEY'RE ALL NBA TEAMS. WINNING A SERIES AGAINST ANOTHER NBA TEAM IS IMPRESSIVE. THAT'S IMPRESSIVE. THEY ALL PLAY IN THE NBA. THEY'RE ALL GREAT BASKETBALL PLAYERS. THAT'S IMPRESSIVE. I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU CAN SAY THAT'S NOT IMPRESSIVE. YOU CAN'T APPLY MATH TO THIS. ODDS JUST DON'T APPLY. I DON'T CARE HOW THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS IN SPORTS GAMBLING. YOU CAN'T APPLY ODDS. THEY'RE NOT PLAYING LOUSY TEAMS. EVEN IF THEY HAVE MORE TALENT, THEY'RE STILL PLAYING NBA TEAMS. IT'S HARD TO DO. IT'S IMPRESSIVE WHEN ANY TEAM IN PRO SPORTS MAKES A FINAL. THAT'S IMPRESSIVE. WELL, EVEN IF THE LAKERS HAD GOOD ODDS, IT'S IMPRESSIVE THAT THEY COULD FOLLOW THROUGH. IT'S IMPRESSIVE THAT THEY COULD MAKE GOOD ON THEIR ODDS BECAUSE SPORTS AREN'T AUTOMATIC. THEY STILL HAD TO DO IT. IT'S IMPRESSIVE. YOU'RE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT. YOU'RE AN IDIOT. YOU PROBABLY BELIEVE THE BULLS WINNING THREE TITLES IN A ROW IS NOT IMPRESSIVE. WHAT'S IMPRESSIVE THEN? NOTHING TO YOU. YOU'RE ABSURD. IF THE LAKERS HAD GOOD ODDS, IT'S IMPRESSIVE THEY WERE GOOD ENOUGH TO GET THOSE ODDS. IT'S IMPRESSIVE THEY HAD THE MONEY TO PUT TOGETHER THAT GOOD OF A TEAM. IT'S THE NBA. YOU STILL HAVE TO BEAT GOOD TEAMS.

(Now imagine I typed this all again, only in bold and in a larger font.)

Section III: Conclusion

THB: I don't find it impressive when a team follows through on good odds. It's not automatic, but it's not impressive either. It's fairly likely to happen. More likely than not.
MDS: IT'S IMPRESSIVE. WHENEVER A FAVORITE WINS, IT'S IMPRESSIVE. ALL THE TEAMS IN THE NBA ARE GOOD. IT'S IMPRESSIVE WHEN A FAVORITE FOLLOWS THROUGH AND GETS THE JOB DONE.
THB: Say the Celtics were to face the Bobcats in a seven game series. Would you find it impressive if they won?
MDS: YES. IF THEY IT WERE THE PLAYOFFS, THE BOBCATS ARE STILL AN NBA...

At this point, I walked away to brush my teeth and go to sleep. I reduced his argument to pure absurdity. The Celtics would have a ninety-something percent chance of beating the Bobcats in a seven game series. I was satisfied that I reduced MDS to absurdity. If he's impressed when a Ray Allen free-throw goes in, more power to him. MDS is blessed (doomed?) to travel this earth wide-eyed.

Plus, Mitalee called, so I had to switch from my arguing voice to my girlfriend voice. I was too tired to switch back afterward and refute more of MDS's rubbish.

Appendix

Theorem: Based on reasonable assumptions, the Los Angeles Lakers had a 49.7% chance of reaching the 2008 NBA finals

Here are those reasonable assumptions:

1. The 2008 Los Angeles Lakers would beat the 2008 Denver Nuggets 75% of the time on a neutral court. Carmelo and AI just didn't work. On offense. Nevermind defense.

2. The 2008 Los Angeles Lakers would beat the 2008 Utah Jazz 65% of the time on a nuetral court. Again, the Jazz are good. But the Lakers are quite clearly better. Kobe trumps Deron Williams. Gasol trumps Boozer. The rest of the Lakers trump the rest of the Jazz.

3. The 2008 Los Angeles Lakers would beat the 2008 San Antonio Spurs 60% of the time. The Lakers are a deep team in their prime. They're rested. The Spurs are an aging team with a thin bench, extremely thin with an injured Manu Ginobli.

Note: if someone has NBA2K9, I'd be interested to know how close my estimates are (I think you'll need 2K9 to have Gasol on the Lakers and AI still on the Nuggets). Play the games computer v computer 10 times each.

Probability theory yields the following three results (using the probabilty mass function):

1. The Lakers had a 87.4% chance of beating the Nuggets in a seven game series.
2. The Lakers had a 80.0% chance of beating the Jazz in a seven game series.
3. The Lakers had a 70.1% chance of beating the Spurs in a seven game series.

To get the probability of three discrete events occuring in sequence, you multiply the probability of each event occurring. 87.4% * 80.0% * 70.1% = 49.7%. Therefore, the Lakers had a 49.7% chance of reaching the NBA finals.
QED.

My calculations are included here for reference.