Cleveland’s PF J.J. Hickson looks deathly sick really. Matter fact, the 7.1 points he averaged over the last eight games and one lonely double-digit rebound game he had in that span is enough for me to officially call his time of death: November 30.

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Andray Blatche does not pronounce his name like Andre. Or even Andrei. It looks like that’s the pronunciation his mother was going for there. Like Toney Douglas. Or Corey Maggette. But, no. This is a whole new proper noun.

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Upon entrance into the 2010 season, the general consensus was that LeBron James was the NBA’s best player and Kevin Durant was fantasy basketball’s best option. It still appears to be that way by most accounts. It’s an opinion so common it feels like fact.

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Gilbert Arenas replaced the injured Al Thornton in the lineup on Thanksgiving and was the lone sweet helping of cranberry sauce in an otherwise turkey of a game for the Wiz. But Gil? Gil’s holding it down like a 40-year-old mom lookin’ way better than most of your 20-year-old friends.

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When I called the first Killers album “crappy,” I was wrong (shoulda saved that opinion for their last two). When I guessed that ‘Lost’ was all in Hurley’s head, I was wrong. When I said that no Ben & Jerry’s flavor could ever top Phish Food, I was wrong (shout out to Americone Dream!

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Growing up in Chicago, there are three teams I’m not allowed to like. There can be no rooting for the Pistons, the Knicks or the Pacers. This triumvirate were the biggest proponents of the Jordan Rules and basically were chok-full of a-holes and bird-like guys named Detlef during the ’80s and ’90s.

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Heat GM Pat Riley was undoubtedly pursuing Erick Dampier ever since it was apparent than Joel Anthony was going to spend the season getting tossed around by the opposition like the losing rooster in a cock fight. I mean, this old man has been wooed harder than the 70-year-old billionaires with profiles on eHarmony.

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Sometimes trades happen that you’re sure must have taken place because one of the GMs was having trouble with his fantasy team. And yes, of course franchise brass play fantasy basketball. How else do small market GMs expect to get their hands on guys like LeBron and ‘Melo?

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It takes a certain amount of cajones to win any fantasy league. Shouldn’t the amount be two? No more, no less? Uh, well, yeah. I guess I meant size. It takes more than one and fewer than three big ol’ cajones to win your league.

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I was among those who eagerly awaited the inevitable moment this season when Steve Nash went down with some sort of old man injury so that Goran Dragic could be taken out of the garage and driven around like Cameron’s Ferrari in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” Sure as shootin’, Nash’s groin laid him low.

Please, blog, may I have some more?