Let’s just get it out of the way now: I don’t follow college basketball. Every year, a new line of freshman enter the league and I think, “It would really be helpful if I knew anything about these guys.” Then a squirrel passes outside my window or a dust particle hitting the sunlight catches my eye and I’ve already forgotten what I was just thinking about.

Please, blog, may I have some more?

By now you, you’re undoubtedly getting fat off the meat of yesterday’s trades. You’ve unbuttoned your trousers, leaned back hard in your chair, farted a little (admit it, you did), listened to Grandma asking if you’ve heard about “Carmen Anthony,” all while digesting that which went down and that which still might might go down in the waning moments of the trade deadline.

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?