OKC To Get an NBA Team - Gravy Train Doesn't Give a Shit

I'm not brainless. I know "Sonics to OKC" is a good year old. See, I have even designed my own logo.

But watching the NBA playoffs this year reinforces my belief that professional basketball sucks.

Wait...

I'm sorry. I can't lie. I haven't been watching the playoffs. I watched 2 minutes of highlights Monday morning during a Saved By The Bell commercial. But that was 2 minutes too much. Inevitably, any NBA contest where one of the first 3 quarters is compelling ends in a blowout. 99.7% of the time, one can tune into the final 5 minutes of an NBA game and see all one needs to see. Reminds me of the WWE and Guiding Light. All that drama that took place the first 110 minutes means nothing.

And even if those first 3 quarters of basketball meant something, what would it matter? It is the same shit over and over and over and over... you get the point. Example: Spurs v. Hornets. To best illustrate the Spurs' offense, a simple analysis won't do. I bring you "Spurs' Offensive", by Gravy Train:

Rebound
Set up Half Court
Offense
Parker with ball; Duncan
picks guy guarding Parker
Parker shoots or goes to bucket or
passes to Duncan who shoots bank shot
The End

So pretty much all I have to do is tell a bunch of tall black guys to play basketball, and I'm a brilliant millionaire? Seems a little...oh, what's the word...easy. Maybe a little racist as well.

I think the worst part is not that OKC will subjected to such an exciting and inventive sporting event, but rather that said sporting event will be played by super athletes like Collison, Sene, and Ridnour. Not exactly Bird, McHale, and Parrish. Or Duncan, Parker, and Gilobli. Or Run TMC. Or even Brewer, Erdmann, and Stone.

iPhone -- Patience Is A Virtue

As an avid Mac-lover, you'd think I'd be one of the millions of iPhone-lugging lemmings schlepping around this great planet. Alas, no. Last summer, as people were browsing the Web, watching movies and using widgets on their iPhones, I remained strong.

You see, while the EDGE network works great in Dallas, for the most part it just isn't that fast. I wanted to be able surf at high speeds on my iPhone even when not connected via Wi-fi. But now, my patience has paid off.

Rumors are abound that the second-generation iPhone, rumored to leverage the speedy 3G network, will be announced by the end of June -- if not sooner. Additional rumors include real GPS capabilities, increased storage capacity and a new form factor. I've even heard some rumblings that it'll include an on-board breathilizer, but that's just wishful thinking on my part.

Why do people think an announcement is imminent? First, the current iPhone is mysteriously "unavailable" on the online Apple Store. Second, AT&T issued a mandate that no vacation would be authorized between June 15 and July 15. Possibly to meet the demands of the iPhone rush? Perhaps.

I do know this: I'll have this version of the iPhone. Does that make me a douchebag, gheyboy, metrosexual or any combination of the above? Possibly. But like my affinity for Coldplay, I just don't fuckin' care. Steve Jobs could release a cardboard box that says Apple on it and I'd probably pay $50 for it.

So, in June, or whenever this next alien gadget is released, I'll have it. I probably won't wait in line at all hours of night, but I'll have it. Until then, I'll just have to let GTA IV continue to consume my life. See how bored I get in the summer? Eff.

Know How You Know the Monkey's Gay?

He likes Coldplay. Yes, call me every ghey moniker in the book. I still like Coldplay. And I was pretty late to the party as I didn't really catch on until like 2005 ... and which point they already had two amazing albums.

So, ever since taking in the release of 2005's X&Y, I've been awaiting Coldplay's fourth album. And now, it's only weeks away. Finally. Titled Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends, the album drops June 17. The super group released the first single, Violent Hill, on April 29. Since that time, the track has been downloaded more than two million times.

I've actually seen them in concert twice in Dallas -- once at Smirnoff Center (now called the SuperPages.com Center) and again at the American Airlines Center. I was pretty angry at the first of the two as they A) Ran out of beer 2) It was 174 degrees outside III) I had to move the next day. But I digress.

The iTunes Music Store is not only taking pre-orders for the album, but is now selling its second single Viva La Vida. The release of Viva La Vida on June 12 follows the success of X&Y, which sold more than 10 million copies since its 2005 release.

"Violent Hill" -- Released April 29
Click here.

Update: Apparently the Coldplay camp removed the songs from YouTube, and now the links to the iTunes Music Store don't work, so you'll have to be happy with just Violent Hill from the Coldplay Web site for now. Suck it.

Women Shouldn't Judge Other Women

Guys know what makes a female attractive. Most guys, that is. Dirt Monkey seems to have a problem discerning what is and what is not an attractive female.

Example A: Dare Danner (named changed to protect me from a restraining order), a beautiful young vixen from a city named after her, and card carrying member of the Chi Omega sorority at the University of Oklahoma.

Though she is/was incredibly hot, ol' blind eyes here didn't find her to nearly the hottie your's truely did. Such disdain for hotness confirmed my earlier suspicions that Dirt Monkey has shit in his eyes, or is gay. Not ghey. But seriously gay. Like Liberace gay.

In addition to liking men, most women have something else in common with Dirt Monkey: an inability to judge which women are hot, and which women are not. There are plenty of examples. Julia Roberts and Kate Walsh, just to name a few. My wife and I watched Top Gun last night, and another monster who falls under the "she's hot!" category per women came to the forefront: Kelly McGillis.

We all know she looks like shit now. Its been 22 years since Mav and Goose felt the need...the need to get oiled up with Val and Mr. McGillis and engage in one of the more homoerotic scenes in cinema history. She's like 51 now. And unless you are Christie Brinkley, you aren't hot at 51. Sorry old people who read this blog. But let's not kid ourselves, she wasn't hot in 1986, or 1983, or ever.

"What makes McGillis ugly", asks my wife last night.

Ok. Here we go.

She is the anti-Julia Roberts. Julia has 78 teeth, Kelly has/had 6 -- 3 on top, 3 on the bottom. How else would one explain the Mariana's Trench(es) between her incisors?

She has eyebrows. And by eyebrows, I mean she looks like an 84 year-old Jewish clog maker. Not only are her eyebrows populated by Little John and his band of Merry Men, they extend a least 8 inches from her nose to the outside of her head. After all, Hammerhead's eyes are located on the side of her face. In all fairness, though, she needs the huge eyebrows and 6 piano keys -- she has a medicine ball on the top of her neck. Its like Kevin Mench and Rosie O' procreated a Jack in the Box.

Yeah, that's attractive. I think I need to take a shower.

Where's Rocky When You Need Him?

There are beatdowns. And then there are some effin' beatdowns. This story out of Philadelphia falls into the second category.

I don't know the backstory to this. In fact, I'm just too lazy to do that much research. I do know that three suspects stopped their vehicle after a police chase in Philly. After that, 15 police officers lay down a beating for the ages. Think Rodney King on speed. Then set on fire.

Unfortunately for the po-po, WTXF-TV in Philadelphia had the ghetto bird recording the whole incident. Oops.

You can clearly see cop after cop run to the scene to get his licks in. Kicks. Punches. A baton. A police dog on the perimeter. What, they couldn't round up an elephant to join in? No fire-breathing tigers to "subdue" the suspects? I just think they weren't trying. Fuckin' Philly.

Anyway, according to The Associated Press, the 15 officers have been removed from duty pending further investigation.

The video, shot by a WTXF-TV helicopter, shows three police cars stopping a car on the side of a road. About a dozen officers gather around the vehicle and pull three men out. About a half-dozen officers hold two of the men on the ground on the driver's side. Both are kicked repeatedly, while one is seen being punched; one also appears to be struck with a baton.

Hell, and we thought the Norman PD was bad. Last time I had a run-in with them I was only jumped by five officers. Pussies.

School is Out

Thank God.

No more hour long waits to eat in Norman on a Friday or Saturday. No more ZERO parking spaces on Campus Corner at 5 pm on a Wednesday. No more traffic jams on Lindsey street at 2 pm on a Saturday. Norman had its annual Katrina - it is a city that instantly loses 20,000 poor people each and every May.

Yeah, there are bad aspects of a summer in Norman. Less ass in Target. 103 degree July afternoons. Less ass in Wal Mart. Red clouds of dust all August. Less ass in Walgreen's. Broken down a/c units in Shadowlake Village. Less ass.

But the positives outweigh the negatives. Namely, the ass that does stay around campus is definitely over the age of 18, and will almost surely wear next to nothing any given weekday afternoon for a quick beer/Mike's Hard Lemonade run to the local Cum and Spit. I welcome the Gap for Kids shorts the 20 year old former Plano East tennis player wears to Target for that SPF 4 skin cancer cream. I relish the Tommy H bikini...still wet...under the white wife beater worn to 7-11 for the Mic Ultra 6 pack.

So cheer up, fellow Normanites. All is not lost with the transposition of some of the finest slits this side of Alameda. Continue to enjoy the afternoon trips to Target on Robinson. Pick up some Pei Wei takeout for lunch. Grab a tall boy from 7-11 on your way home. The ass may have decreased, but said ass quality?

What is "increased" for $400 Alex!

Etta James = Freak, Sex Fiend

So, I took my ex-non-girlfriend-female-person-human-I- wish-I-had-sex-with to see Etta James at the House of Blues in Dallas on Wednesday. I assumed, at 70 years old, James would sit in a chair, soulfully sing "At Last" and "A Sunday Kind of Love." The older crowd would sway, play remember-when and I'd be home by 10 p.m. That couldn't be further from the truth.

You see, the one thing I did learn is that Etta James is an absolute freak. Yeah, every spoiled, 20-something daddy's girl wants "At Last" played at their wedding. If they only knew what James was all about. (And, ironically, James said she hates that song today and hated it the day they made her record it ... but it makes her money, so she goes along with it.)

OK, where was I? Oh, yes, James' freakiness. In the very first song, she made a hand-job gesture, continually licked her lips, grabbed her breasts and said her number was 777-6969. It was akin to watching your grandmother sing a 2 Live Crew track. Yeah, that sounds about right.

In fact, she continually grabbed her "bosom," as The Dallas Morning News referred to it in their review. She had to have at least made the hand-job gesture five times. I honestly lost count.

I truly feel embarrassed for someone who brought their mother to that show thinking it would be a sweet, bonding experience. Possibly. If you were Jenna Jameson and mother.

I did capture video of part of her second or third song, a Johnny "Guitar" Watson cover, "I Want to Ta-Ta You Baby." That is, however, until she pointed me and another guy out for recording -- you can actually see her do it near the end. (At first I thought it was a cliche peace sign, but that guy came up to me after the show and said he got caught too.)

Honestly, I think she only played two or three of her original recordings. Her one-hour, 15-minute show primarily consisted of covers from artists, for the most part, I was too young to remember.

Even more awkward, two of her sons were in the Roots Band, which performed with her. But to have your mother up there talking about all the sex she has -- or had -- would be enough for me to quit my musical career and take up, well, anything else.

I will give it up, for 70 years old she didn't look that bad. But it was just too much to overcome. You go in expecting a nice, romantic night ... you leave being lyrically ass-raped by a card-carrying member of the AARP. Ah, senior citizens, gotta love 'em.

Editor's note: Apologize in advance for video quality. The pussy-whipped dude in front of me kept hitting me with his wife's giant purse she made him hold the entire night.

Karl Malone is Normal

In the sense that having sex with a 13 year-old is normal.

(excerpt taken from The Buffalo News)

If you never heard of Buffalo Bills rookie offensive tackle Demetrius Bell, you’ll be rooting for him when I tell you his story.

Bell was a seventh-round draft pick and two-year starter at Northwestern State, the same Louisiana school that produced cornerback Terrence McGee.

Bell is the son of Karl Malone, but the Mailman had no role in Bell’s success except passing along athletic genes.

The two have had very little contact during Bell’s life. His mother, Gloria Bell, reportedly was only 13 years old and Malone a college sophomore at Louisiana Tech when Demetrius was born. Malone might have served jail time had her family asked the district attorney to file criminal charges.

I went to college where the basketball program had its share of decent basketball players. I don't recall any of them having trouble getting laid. For example, a certain forward whose name rhymes with Deduardo Dajera, and who plays for the NBA's Duggets, got my Tri Delt sloppy seconds. A certain center from Benks, Oklahoma, whose first name closely resembles Benzi, messed around with my defiled Theta hooch. So that's an ugly Mexican, and a goofy South Tulsan pulling prime arse, because we all know Gravy only pulls pulled prime arse. How can those goofs pull decent college wool, and a future millionaire HoFer like Das Mailman is relegated to the Ruston Jr. High football queen?

I'll take $360 billion in 10s, please

I'm not a smart man. Nor am I a rich man. But that combination has never had me go so brain dead to pull a stunt like Crowley, Texas, resident Charles Ray Fuller. This 21-year-old financial wizard decided he wanted test the wits of a Fort Worth Chase Bank. How, you ask? By attempting to cash a $360 billion dollar check, that's how. Genius.

Obviously educated by an elite Ivy League institution of higher learning, Fuller said he was given the check by his girlfriend's mother to start a record label. I'm guessing if you have $360 billion in the bank, you're all set with cash. That's just how I roll, but whatever.

An excerpt from the story in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram:

Employees at the Chase Bank at 8601 S. Hulen St. grew suspicious after seeing all those zeroes (10 to be exact) and called the check's owner. The woman said the suspect, Charles Ray Fuller, 21, of Crowley, is her daughter’s boyfriend and that he did not have permission to take the check or cash it.

It gets better. Apparently when Fuller attempted to execute said ruse, he also brought two ounces of weed -- likely for Josh Howard -- and a .25-caliber handgun. This cat is L-I-V-I-N.

Screw work. Fuck the job. I'll just write myself a check with a dozen or so zereos. High-rollin'. You can read accounts of Fuller's well-though-out scheme at DallasNews.com and Star-Telegram.com.

Kelly Clarkson Needs to Eat a Sandwich

And not her usual 3 double cheeseburgers plus a 32 ounce coke. Look, she's never been the thinnest chick in the world. And I would probably still pound her. Well, maybe not. Then again, she is rich. But does that really matter when you are nailing 185 pounds of south Ft. Worth pride? I guess not. The wife and I were watching the Reba and Kelly Crossroads on MTV this weekend. A little ghey? Oh yes. But being ghey and married really isn't all that different. In any event. Kelly Clarkson has officially gone from PFI (potential for inflation) to just I. I have heard of the freshman 15, but who knew lovely Ms. Clarkson would invent the 4th album 35? It sucks because she could be attractive, and I want to pretend like I would have sex with her. But its not easy when you are imagining that former cute freshman from Walker 6 West who still tries to fit into her Arlington Heights pants. Reminds me of putting queen size sheets on a king size bed.