Upon occasion – especially while watching the Wizards – I think to myself, “Self? You could do better than these guys, right? Sure, you’re not as tall as most of these guys and you have trouble going to your left, you tend to get wheezy after just a couple laps up the court, your sweat makes people not want to talk to you, you choke on the gum you’re chewing 3/4 of the possessions, and your on-court communication consists mostly of reciting lines from ‘White Men Can’t Jump,’ but still, the Wizards are awful.” Now I know you think it’s weird that I address myself as Self, but if I didn’t do that how would I know who I’m talking to?

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Amidst all the tomfoolery, rigmarole and other old-timey adjectives my grandfather uses when he throws his shoulder out churning his Victrola, connected with the pending blockbuster trade that need not be discussed until it is official, a story likely to get lost in the shuffle is Cleveland’s loss of yet another roster bulwark (another grandpappy word) Anderson Varejao

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Tyreke Evans dropped 32 points on the Clippers in 40 minutes, but couldn’t drop a free throw that might have saved the game for ‘em. Then he dashed to the locker room and dropped a bombshell that he’s considering having laser surgery that will heal his foot and lay him low for the next 3-4 months, or as simplists like to call it, the rest of the season.

Please, blog, may I have some more?