Where In Blogosphere is Ivan B ???

What am I doing here? I have a pre-imminent retro date with a snow bank off of I-90. Why am I smoking and drinking, simultaneously watching one monitor of the Tight White Right Alito coverage and another of the Suns beating the crap out of the Laker’s? You can still find dive bars like WEED’S, a stone’s throw from Steppenwolf here in Chi-town. Not the case in Manhattan. Despite the seedy appeal of my present environs, I hate most sports almost as much as I hate Fox News . . . yet here I sit.

American political ears only burn when it comes time to elect a President. Unless, of course, you are Gay or Christian. Then yours might get pricked up when someone on the Supreme Court dies leaving you to vie for Jane Roe or Henry Wade or Harvey Milk, depending on your disposition.

Appointments to the Supreme Court seem to be the last throwback to the Royalism of our European Forefathers. You maybe get the same reverse feeling as when going to see a play in London and you have to pay for programs or matches when you buy cigarettes or packets of ketchup at Mickie D’s . . . these things we all take for granted here.

Then there is Steve Nash, a late blooming Canadian star-athlete whose politics are as agreeable as his skizelles on the court. The only reason I notice this guy is because he used to play for the Spurs, JackDaniel’s™ favorite college b-ball franchise. Regardless, Texas has been doing well recently as her Away Message can attest: “How does it feel having a Longhorn’s penis in your mouth?”

Nash is also a short white guy, which might also be giving rise to my sudden bicameral political/sports fetish. Or maybe its the ghost of Hunter S. Thompson pulling me out of my Prozac induced slave mentality . . . forcing me to question not only my own complacency but yo ass as well. Yes YOU muthafuka . . .

Unplug your iPod, put down the pipe and stop sweating your neighbor’s car or your parents’ lifestyle that is inextricably linked to the pros & cons of whatever ethnicity with which you are cursed. Shaq’s knees are toast and Kobe is all alone out there, now having graduated from the Sports Section. Obey Your Thirst has a whole new meaning, huh? Hope your making lots of cake so you can fly your teenage daughter to Europe to score some RU-486.

OK, Boppers let’s get down to it . . .

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