God Bless You, Mr. Artest
Blogging’s been light on account of my wicked-ass cold. On the bright-side, when the shit comes down and Waterworld happens, I’ll be all set when the universal currency becomes dried snotty Kleenexes.
So, what’s up?
I’m actually glad Ron Artest flipped his lid at the Palace Friday night. For once the nation is abuzz about a sports controversy that is actually worth debating, and one that’s actually about sports. The puritanical letter-writing-campaign coordinators are surely miffed that no one gives a shit about Nicolette Sheridan pretending to be naked anymore. And, for that, I think we all owe Ron a cup of beer.
Also, if it weren’t for all this hoopla, I’d have never known that R-Ar has a hip-hop record poised to drop. Finally my pockets will be freed from the firey wrath of my money!