You Can Call Me Modern Urban Norman Rockwell

Notes while watching TV all day Sunday:

-Frankly, at this point, it won't matter even if the Suns somehow put it all together and win the championship. The party's over. The team that almost single-handedly revitalized NBA basketball (as a team sport, not as a league) has been turned into every other boring-ass NBA team. Hooray.
Seriously, fuck this team. They looked awful today. I've never seen them allow another team to dictate the pace so thoroughly. Even when they win, as in Friday night, it's completely soulless. Clearly, even if you buy the whole you-don't-need-five-men-to-run-a-break thing, you do need Marion to make it work as we'd grown to know it. Now we've got Shaq (whose range is now down to dunks and dunks alone; he can't even hit two-footers anymore) playing by the basket, which pushes Amare out to 12-15 feet, where he doesn't command double-teams, which keeps guys like Bell from getting open shots, which immediately kills their effectiveness. So, outside of the occasional Amare dunk on some dude's face, there's absolutely nothing fun about Phoenix's new brand of game. And since Golden State and Denver aren't ready for prime-time, I am losing all my excitement for the Western Conference playoffs (past the first round).

-And while we're at it, I don't even want to think about what I'm going to do if the Pistons win the East. There's just absolutely nothing positive that can come out of a series of them vs. anybody (short of the aforementioned Warriors or Nuggets).

-It's legitimately unbelievable how far Tracy McGrady has fallen from the public consciousness. He still has the most effortless shot in the game, and he's an excellent playmaker. But it's just impossible to care at this point. It really doesn't help that Houston is the single least exciting team in the league. I can (and have) gone entire quarters without actually noticing a single basket they scored.

-Along those lines, when I first heard it, the Gerald Green trade to Houston was my favorite deal of the trade deadline, for the dual purpose of allowing him to finally get minutes and to liven up the Rockets. However, Green came into the league as the next T-Mac; if the genuine article can't make the team even halfway interesting, baby-T-Mac probably won't help much either. Especially if he can't get any minutes. After a three-day back, I'm re-starting the campaign: FREE GERALD GREEN!

-I wish I could get a prop bet on how long until the first Jews-in-Hollywood joke complements of Jon Stewart. I'm taking the under.

-Oh, there it is.

-Fun facts you had repressed that you re-learn while watching the Oscars: Cuba Gooding Jr. won an Oscar. Really. Cuba Gooding Jr. This show no longer has any credibility.

-Uh-oh. Owen Wilson hasn't been taking his anti-depressants. Lock the windows and hide the razors. He can, however, read the teleprompter, as long as you don't ask him to pretend otherwise in anyway.

-Tilda Swinton, huh? Good performance, not mind-blowing. But she almost redeemed the Academy with her fantastic shout-out to Clooney's early work as Batman. Method acting at its finest, indeed.

-Sarah Polley's still alive?

Everybody Pay Attention To Me!

Hey guys! Did you see that? Did you see me on ESPN?! Cot damn, look at how I yelled at that McNamee boy! Don't I look tough? Look how well I read that strongly-worded, pre-written statement. Hoo-hah!

Dan Burton 2012! Fuck an Obama!

The Big Man Moves Super Bowl Roundup

So the Giants are Super Bowl champions. No, no, that's no good. Let's try that again.

The Patriots lost! Woo-hoo! Karma's up in this bitch!

Better. Back to it. The Patriots, who previously had the NFL on smash, got ghosted. Justin Tuck decided to channel his inner-Osi (thankfully he did it metaphorically) and put it straight on Goldenboy's chest. And most importantly, in the eyes of fawning Jersey douchebags and NY media-types everywhere, Eli spent the latter part of Sunday developing Grown Man Status (and then, of course, giving it right back). Not one to get caught up in the hype, Steve Young summed up what everyone was feeling: "Like a foundry forging steel, Eli Manning took every arrow, every shot."

Oh, word, Steve? Like a bear to the sand, Yao Ming's translator called, and he wants his wack-ass similes back.

Resident Giants fat man Shaun O'Hara let us in on his jolly, saying, "it really was a sweet moment I'll remember forever. I'm sure our party was more fun than the Patriots." Shhh...nobody tell Willie Andrews. To be fair, the Giants' probably did have one hell of a party. Michael Strahan, preach:

"Trust me, that is the best team we played, the Cowboys." Holy shit, don't tell Willie that either! He'd be pissed, but mostly just cuz he wants whatever Big Guns was taking at that party.