Post by Bryan Styble
Thanks much for the endorsement, Darrell.
What's perhaps saddest about it is the gargantuan missed opportunity: Stern could have routinely acted in Pete Rozelle- or A. Bartlett Giamotti-like fashion by using the enormous penalizing power of the Commissioner's office to foster the sorts of personal and professional values that good men like David Robinson always upheld--it's no coincidence that Robinson graduated from the uber-discipliine Naval Academy--rather than letting all this insidious white-demonizing hiphop culture infest the NBA.
So rather than happily enjoying their rare good fortune to earn a literal
fortune playing a game they'd be anyway playing for free...these college-grad
(yet almost-always-semiliterate) NBA players--who as the ever-cloying Laura
Ingraham famously said oughta just shut up and dribble--instead just
simple-mindedly absorb Kaepernick-style agitprop and then luxuriate in the
positively preposterous mentality that they're essentially still slaving on a
plantation under some Simon Legree figure oppressively called an "owner".
To be clear,the cultural deficiencies aren't all the Commissioner's fault.
I remember Dajuan Wagner,who scored 100 points in a high school game and
as a college freshman was the NIT MVP.
He was born to a high school romance between parents who wanted him to
finish college,but his coach,who thought he should enter the NBA draft,
took away his scholarship rather than let him go on toward his BA.
In the pros he was no longer a dominating center but an injury-prone
substitute guard who was quickly overshadowed by LeBron James at the
team that had signed him and gotten his B.A. and N.C.A.A. before his
N.B.A. he would have developed better.
Post by Bryan Styble
And while mere idiot NBA watchers like myself, for instance, listen to rock, pop, reggae, rock 'n roll, soul, classic country, punk, New Wave, roots rock, classical symphonies, jazz, swing, barbershop, doo-wop, show tunes, folk, zydeco, world music, standards, novelty records and yes, even hiphop and rap...these freakishly-tall jock jerks who (I'm repeatedly and reliably informed) when out in public wearing those big, dumb-looking James-popularized headphones seldom can be bothered for even a quickly-scribbled autograph for some disillusioned kid, you can safely bet are digesting pretty much just one steady diet of music, an astonishingly angry genre whose non-melodic rantings, however artfully-rhymed, pass as song lyrics.
Because with rap, you don't have to carry a tune--just a chip on your shoulder.
The World Trade Center towers MUST rise again,
at least as tall as before...or terror has triumphed.