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Conorama

Expounding on Nothing

Impartial Observer

 
It seems that the Sacramento Kings have a really bad case of LAKERITUS. They were blown out, and injured. This cannot be reality folks. Someone help our guys out!

 
C-note has noticed that sometimes I spell it like "Geez" and sometimes I spell it like "Jeez". Hmmm. What was I thinking? So for all of the "geezes" (or jeezes), just substitute "SHIT MOTHER" in it's place. That is one that I learned from my Granny Betty. Yep, she was a little fiesty.

 
All of the public service vehicles in my area, i.e., sherrifs, parks dept., beach patrol, etc., are now sporting a bumper sticker that reads "Don't Abandon Your Baby". Is there an epidemic of baby abandonments that I don't know about? It's creepy.

 
Damn, my team is getting killed in the playoffs. Jeez, I saw a lot of really weird calls, but maybe that's just because I'm a fan. Still, I have to wonder because there were a lot of things that just weren't called. I understand that they have said that they don't know how to officiate Shaq, but still, take a breath and just imagine if they never called these same calls against your team, which they would never do, but it's hard to watch your team's players get hacked and whacked over and over and nothing is ever called (oh, except offensive fouls). Maybe my team is just the shits, but geez, they are the defending champs, even though Fox and George are out, still, can we get an even bout? Can we even play a game here? I understand that we are barely hanging on by the skin of our teeth, but this "new" form of officiating is really getting me down. You might feel the same when your team faces the same thing. On the other hand, if they were really champs, they would overcome all of this. Harrumph.

 
I knew Mr. B's friends could potentially be trouble. Sure enough, there they are, laying all over Mr. B's sofa, looking floppy and innocent, but NO. Cleverly hidden underneath are the four missing bags of herbed soup crackers I made for Mr. B's lunch this week. BUSTED! That means you Woody.

 
Mr. B's favorite new request: "Coke Ice, Please".

 
Unless Conor can get a tune out of that Indian flute soon, I'm going to have to club him with it.

 
Bill Walton is a DUMBASS. (I learned the word dumbass from my Dad.)

 
Bill Walton's commentary is like listening to a post-lobotomy patient on acid. Excrutiating.