By The Intern
Page 2 (via; SOUND) -- Video of TNT's Top 10 in-game dunks, which only leaves me angry at the league for eradicating excessive taunting. For instance, Shawn Kemp's spectacular two-handed point at Alton Lister? Those days are gone forever. (Pablo M.) -- The founder of Domino's Pizza is building a Florida town centered on strict Catholic principles, including bans on abortion, pornography and contraceptives. I bet it's all just an elaborate ruse for the return of The Noid. -- As Matt D. puts it, "Best. IMDB. Photo. Ever." (Andrew T.) -- Real money salary estimations for TV Dads. Anyone else baffled as to how they arrived at a precise figure for Fred Flintstone? I declare shenanigans. (Scott in Chapel Hill) -- Julio Franco was already my all-time favorite jacked 47-year-old with opposite field power, namely because he comes to bat to a Christian rock ballad and once uttered the words, "I don't need steroids; I'm juiced on Jesus." But this article takes him to another level. I live in awe of the man who proclaims he "would have thrived in biblical times" with complete sincerity.

TUESDAY (Ronald B.) -- Although the recent entries are a bit intense, MC Hammer takes the early lead for Best Blog by a Man Who Once Popularized Parachute Pants. At the very least, Hammer gets major points for signing off, "Hammertime … from my sidekick." (Seth in San Francisco) -- A Romanian soccer player responded to news that he had been traded for a large lump of meat by fleeing to Spain to work construction. And honestly, I can't think of a more appropriate reaction. (Matt in Austin) -- I love Bode Miller's staunch refusal to show the slightest humility, rationalizing away his failed Olympic showing with nonsense statements like "I just want to go out and rock. And man, I rocked here." You get the feeling Bode could go home drunk with a groupie, pass out within 10 seconds, maybe even vomit on her floor for good measure, only to roll over the following morning and high-five her while proclaiming himself a stallion. -- Barry Bonds is now demanding that media members sign a waiver before interviewing him, one that would allow him to use footage of them in his planned reality show. A waiver, huh? That puts him one step closer to the inevitable taking questions from a king's throne while first requiring tokens of homage. "What have we got here … fine Irish whiskey? Whiskey!?! Barry's a vodka man, you fool! Off with his head." (Dustin in Chicago) -- profile for "Death Ring," a 1993 film starring Mike Norris (son of Chuck), Chad McQueen (son of Steve), Don Swayze (brother of The Swayze) and some dude named Billy Drago. This is easily one of my five favorite films of all time, even though I'll likely never see it and had no idea it existed until this morning.

Remember Eugene Edgerson, the throwback sixth man on Arizona's 2001 national runner-up team -- a walking, talking tribute to ABA pioneers like Dr. J and Artis Gilmore? For those that don't, his entire game consisted of diving for loose balls, chasing down rebounds and setting more screens in one half than most of us will in a lifetime. But the clincher was that he insisted on dressing the part, complete with Afro, headband, gigantic knee pads, knee-high striped socks and ridiculously awesome retro sneakers (for more, here's a great rundown on him). If Eugene had ever released an instructional DVD, I think it would have actually killed me.

During that 2001 tourney run, my roommates and I lived for Eugene Edgerson. We used to cheer every magnificent pick of his with the joy of … well, morons who howl with delight at the sight of a grown man setting unnecessary back screens. But at least we knew genius when we saw it.

It was also well-documented that Edgerson planned to teach kindergarten when his playing days were through -- only adding to his legend. So I just assumed he was off somewhere reading Dr. Seuss to a bunch of wide-eyed 5-year-olds, hopefully while still wearing the headband and knee pads.

Not so. Turns out he's in his third year with the Harlem Globetrotters, where he still rocks the ABA look, still plans to teach and is a team spokesman for some kind of character education program. As if that wasn't already the greatest news imaginable, the Globetrotters come to Atlanta on March 11. I plan to attend.

This world could use more Eugene Edgersons. (Matt B.) -- Jerome James unwisely proclaimed that bringing Theo Ratliff to the Knicks would have been "a waste," implying that he's somehow got the whole "inside presence" thing covered -- which is the equivalent of a stumbling drunk waving off a designated driver. It's almost as if he got jealous of Isiah and Co. getting all the negative attention. (David in Claremont, Calif.; SOUND) -- A tribute celebrating 20 years of Europe's "The Final Countdown." Ten times funnier if you're picturing a George Oscar Bluth magic show right now. -- A heckler taunted Steve Francis about where he plans to go next, to which Steve shot back, "To the bank" (next to last paragraph). Well played. -- Simmons has few rules in life, but this is one of them: Any time the son of a guy from his old basketball draft in Boston starts a blog about baseball cards, we have to link to it.

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