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WEDNESDAY, 5/18 -- I already own the Ernie, Kenny, and Chuck bobbleheads (free promo from a Hawks game a few years back). But if I ever got my hands on this, it would be all over. I can just picture my roommate walking in to find me staring at the bobbleheads, each placed in their respective chairs behind a makeshift desk, with the gigantic set prominently displayed in the background. When he would try to ask what's going on, I would angrily cut him off with, "CAN'T YOU SEE THAT KENNY IS TALKING?" Good thing I don't have the money for this. -- If Luke Perry wasn't the best man, then I say there is no God. - Former SNL head writer Adam McKay writes about the changing face of the NBA (thanks to Daven K. for this). The entire article is entertaining, although I got totally distracted by the news that Dirk is the son of two professional handball players. Somehow I didn't know this, and now my day is completely thrown off. -- I can't say it any better than Gregg B. did, so I won't even try: "When I first looked at this picture, I thought, 'Man, Joe E. Tata is on a new show!' I was shocked to see that it's Don Johnson (second picture from the top, under 'Just Legal')." -- "Mark Blount has nowhere to go but up this summer." Now that's an opening. Also, I realize that you Celtics fans despise Mr. Blount for being the anti-Duncan (worst hands in the league ... actually, maybe ever), but I think, deep down, part of you will miss him when he's gone. Let me tell you a quick story. Back when the marvelous Alan Henderson was putting on fashion shows for the Hawks, I cursed the man who was making millions to just wear expensive suits, year after year. But now that he's gone, part of me misses the jokes. It's the end of an era. Do with this information what you must. -- I'M BACK, JERRY! I'M BACK! If you don't think this is great news, then I don't want to know you. Ever.

TUESDAY, 5/17 -- Back when I was on the Bar Mitvah circuit, if you slow-danced with the girl who looked six years older than you while some lame DJ played "Save the Best for Last," it was a good night. Now kids get to slow-dance with Beyonce while listening to Justin Timberlake attempt to beatbox. The game has officially passed me by ... -- This is my "oh sweet mercy, a lime-green hatchback" moment. -- Cool article about television sitcoms reflecting the polarization of American voters. However, the more important question involves how "Everybody Loves Raymond" became the torch-bearing classic sitcom. It's sort of like when Fred Jones looked like the best player on the Pacers for those first few games after the melee decimated their roster. I will now only refer to that as the "Everybody Loves Fred Jones" era. -- I highly doubt it, but wouldn't it be great if this was all a clever ruse? Say this was just some regular guy who, instead of taking a conventional vacation, decided he'd rather mess with police and care workers for a few days. When the gig is up, I picture him saying something along the lines of, "I'm not the Dread Pirate Roberts. My name is Ryan."



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