ChillSpot Online: Our Art is Life

Okay, the Cavaliers lost to a better team. I can accept that. But something inside me just won’t let some other things slide, so I’m about to put them all on blast, partly for therapy, partly cause I feel like it.

- LeBron not congratulating the Magic or talking to the media
Who gives a shit? Alright! Let’s take this from another perspective. You go to work. The job hires another person who does exactly the same thing you do, only they’re younger, prettier, stronger and smarter. When that person gets the promotion you thought was yours for years, what do you do? This is your LIFE remember? You might pretend to be gracious, but in reality, you want that person to get sucked into a jet engine, right? Well, for LeBron, basketball is a JOB. Not a game, but a JOB. So he didn’t feel like kissing ass while the opponents rub their balls all over him and the fans cuss him out? So WHAT! Here’s LeBron’s take on it …

“It’s hard for me to congratulate somebody after you just lose to them,” he said. “I’m a winner. It’s not being a poor sport or anything like that. If somebody beats you up, you’re not going to congratulate them. That doesn’t make sense to me. I’m a competitor. That’s what I do. It doesn’t make sense for me to go over and shake somebody’s hand.”

- The other players
They all suck. Fuck the sugarcoating, they suck as a unit. They suck individually. They suck. Watch me break them down:

Mo Williams
A nice player when surrounded by other stronger, taller players, but not a second star. And now, a choke artist who sounded glad just to be there.
Delontae West
A really good seventh man, but not a starter. Defensively strong, but only an inch taller than Gary Coleman, who is the same height as Mo Williams. The NBA is a big man’s game, these midgets get stomped. And not an offensive force … a lot like …
Daniel ‘Boobie’ Gibson
He has become just like many other “shooters” to come along since LeBron came into the league. Remember Jason Kapono? Trajan Langdon? Shannon Brown? Damon Jones? Luke Jackson? Dujuan Wagner? J.R. Bremer? No? They’ve all come and gone since 2003. And they all were supposed to do the same thing Boobie’s not doing - spread the damn floor! So Boobie, minus a ridiculous night a few years ago against the Pistons, you’ve taken your place along those other names in Cavs history … welcome home kid.
Sasha Pavlovic
The poorest man’s Larry Hughes. Sort of can shoot. Sort of athletic. Sort of a good defender. Add all that together and you know what you get? A DAMN BUM.
Anderson Verejao
He’s what the Bulls’ Joakim Noah aspires to be. A cracked out flopper, a nuisance, a benign Dennis Rodman, who has very few skills beyond that.
Ben Wallace
A walking corpse of his former self. Can no longer bang with the bigs. Hustles no more. Is allergic to offense. And is the price we paid to get rid of Hughes. $20 mill… Without his afro he’s not even fun to look at anymore.
Zydrunas Ilgauskas
He’s like your old uncle. He’s cool, you give him mad respect for all he’s done, but you pity him because he hasn’t quite figured out that he ain’t the pimp he used to be. Big Z is a center, who doesn’t play in the middle anymore. Remember when he had post moves? Gone. What about when he could get 6 tap backs on rebounds to keep a possession alive? Not so much anymore. He’s a hindrance to the game unless he’s hitting his long range shots, but he doesn’t even do that so much. Hang it up big guy. We’ll put you in the rafters, for whatever that means…
Wally Sczerbiak
He’s never EVER been a good fit. He never hit threes like he was supposed to, so he should easily (and rightfully) fit into the category with Boobie, but for the fact that he was expected to do more than hit a three. He’s tall enough to be helpful, but he’s about as athletic as Joey Chestnut, you know, the champion eater? Fortunately his contract is up. See ya.

I won’t rip Joe Smith, he’s been ripped enough as a former No. 1 pick.

Does that cover everyone who matters?

Oh the coach!

Mike Brown
He’s a great cheerleader, which is good for a coach who wants to keep his job. But his skills as a motivator are still up in the air. Notice how much the networks showed Stan VanGundy? Never once did you see a Mike Brown huddle shot. Why? Because it’s not good TV, which means it can’t be motivating to a player? Okay, so Tony Dungy, former coach of the Indianapolis Colts, didn’t yell and scream, but he has something Brown lacks: presence. He seems like he really has no idea what he’s doing, still, and he’s now got Coach of the Year on his resume…

The future
The Cavs need more athletes. Preferably in the 6′6″ range, with speed and a jumper. And one decent big man (like hmm … Carlos Boozer?). The Magic series, as Charles Barkley said, was too hard for the Cavs to win. LeBron had to use too much of himself to carry the team, which was too willing to ride along on his coattails. Hence that game six stinker(?) where he seemed unfocused, and still had 25 7 and 7. All in all, the team overachieved, so there’s no need to be mad that they lost without a title. Cleveland is Cleveland, after all, so people will say this was a bad year, but it was the one of the greatest sporting seasons the city has ever seen, so savor it, and beg for changes or it’ll be more of the same next year.

Hey beautiful!
I was just thinking about you.
How pretty your skin is in the morning,
how your eyes glow in the sun,
and how sexy fine you are.
You’re the woman of my dreams,
and I am totally in lust with you.
I would let you eat my pussy,
while I was eating yours.
I would do your nails for you,
And bathe you in Moet.
I’d buy you the finest things,
Cars, you’d have three.
Clothes? Only the rarest ones for you.
I’d give you gifts just for winking at me.
Did you just wink at me?
Aww, here, have a tennis bracelet!
It’s not enough carats? Really?
I’m sorry … I thought 5 would please you.
Let me fetch someone to make this better for you.
Please don’t be offended by this,
But I’m gonna kiss you.
I’m gonna kiss you right on the lips.
Those soft supple lips.
Muah!
So sweet.
Is that a blemish on your cheek?
Oh shit! Baby, lemme put some concealer on it.
Wait a minute. Baby, your panties.
They’re cutting into your waist. Didn’t you used to wear small?
Did they shrink in the wash? They did.
I know it. But your belly IS hanging over them a lil.
Girl, don’t worry about it. Niggaz love a little pouch.
What you say? They love YOUR pouch?
Well no shit! Your toe nail clippings are worth more to men
Than most women’s whole bodies, naked!
You are an angel, and any man who don’t see that
Is too dumb to ever deserve you. Most men are too dumb.
They don’t know who you are. And that’s their own problem
And their own loss.
You think it’s weird that I’m in your head?
I know, it is huh. How we always seem to be thinking
The same things, we crave the same things,
Take the same things from men,
All that? It’s like we’re the same person.
But I don’t believe I could love myself as much as I love you.
It’s just not possible. Did I tell you I love you?
I love you too.

I was THIS CLOSE to my dream.
This close to my hope.
But I wasn’t really close at all.
There was an invisible chasm between me and them,
and I didn’t notice it till I was plummeting off the edge,
my face flapping in the wind, my eyes watery and red,
and the only thing left was the inevitable collision.
The only thing I’d expected to collide with was bliss,
A single kiss after the pastor pronounces us man and wife,
No strife, no stress, just me and he,
Arm in arm, the world in awe …
All that is in the hopper now,
How can I walk away from my dreams
And be forced to face my nightmares?
It’s there too, still taunting me,
Years after grinding me into a paste for his bread.
He’s still tormenting me, and I can’t shed him.
Why? Why does he matter? Why does he affect me so?
I don’t know, or maybe I don’t care to.
But I know I might have just watched my husband
Walk out of my life, and at the very least,
our bond may never be the same
Even if he does come back. I’m still getting used to the idea
Of him being gone …
And here this fool is, STILL pulling me under water,
Still muffling my screams for freedom,
Or is that my OWN hand over my mouth?

Look. I know this little series has been all O network and shit, all women all the time, but I got shit on my mind too, and Spike TV won’t quite get it. I thought I’d submit this so that someone out there might learn from it, or be inspired in some way by it. Well, naw, that’s bullshit. Really, this is my confession, except that I’m bragging, so I guess I’m not really repenting, but moreso acknowledging the abomination within me, in hopes that putting the words into space will calm it a little…

I devour women. Not in the Dalmer sort of way, but more in the psychological Hannibal Lecter (okay so maybe that’s not a great example?) sense. It’s like they WANT to be ruled by me. So I let em walk off their own cliffs. This is not without backlash … sometimes they awaken and are a little pissed about how they played themselves, and then they come at me. It takes more energy to contain their misplaced rage than it ever did to attain their weak minds in the first place.

So basically, I’m tryin to change my diet. I’d like to slow down and chew my food, and actually appreciate the care that went into making it. If that means I eat less, then fine … cause I’m damn tired of indigestion…