Ball Don't Lie - NBA

You know, when J.E. Skeets first called me to breakdown the Carnival of the NBA for you today, I was honored. I mean, here's a man who sneezes basketball, a man who breathes URLs, asking me — a professional comedian of the highest caliber — to recognize the NBA blogoballer's latest and greatest efforts. It seemed odd at first, until I remembered just how lazy he is. Steve Kerr would have never done this to me!

But alas, here I am, caffeinated, jacked and positively radiant because I exfoliate with a microbead body wash. Daily. And here are your links. I suggest you click on them like the mindless zombies that you are. What? You are! Enjoy, non-humans. Don't eat me.

Here's the deal, I'm the best there is. Plain and simple. I wake up in the morning and I piss excellence ... like the 1992 Dream Team. You know, the same team that set into motion a chain of events that is destroying the NBA. Yeah, that one. (Note: Christian Laettner never pissed excellence. His urine was always cloudy.)

I don't know who blackened your soul a long time ago, but may God have mercy on it. It's one thing to drop your agent, but to drop your agent and then talk smack about your current boss' mother? That's cold, Ron Artest. Ice cold.

Grief is nature's most powerful aphrodisiac. That, and Zebraphobia will give you a rash.

Oh, it's the deep burn. Oh, it's so deep. Oh, I can barely lift my right arm 'cause I did so many. I don't know if you heard me counting. I did over a thousand. WhatIfSports.com's TXL computer calculates the greatest NBA champions ever by having them "play" each other 100 times over.

Everybody panic! It's just like the Titanic, but it's full of bears! Sadly, the more things change in Indianapolis (hello, T.J. Ford), the more they stay the same (Shawne Williams is a caged animal).

Let the dirt just shower over you. Then, when you're ready, get up, brush the dirt off your shoulder like a popular Top 40 song, shower, shave, and then put on a rookie caricature t-shirt available in The Blowtorch's online establishment. Oh, Danilo Gallinari! Lookin' good, cowboy!

You—you're crazy, man. You're crazy. I like you, but you're crazy. David Friedman, sans 'stache, talks with ESPN's Fran Fraschilla about Team USA's Olympic gold chances.

I'm so excited I can't feel my arms! Jose Calderon, your time is now.

What is that haunting aroma? College Wolf and colleagues discuss Kevin Love's dominant Summer League performance and what his future holds.

I'm still down here ... and I'm still in quite a lot of pain. Maybe someone in the lobby could call an ambulance. Oh, the pain is really quite severe.  I... I've fashioned a makeshift splint. The Olympic chances of Andrew Bogut's Australian Boomers.

You're my assistant. You're supposed to back me up and go get me juiceboxes whenever I want. Now go get me a juicebox! Carolyn at And One offers up a refreshing taste of Robert W. Peterson's book "Cages To Jumpshots." Apparently, if it wasn't for some janitor, we might very well be playing "boxball" today.

That's how you do it. That's how you debate. RaptorsHQ takes an in-depth look at Bryan Colangelo's run in Toronto, and whether he needs this Jermaine O'Neal deal to be a success to reclaim some of his shimmer.

All we are is dust in the wind ... If Dennis Velasco owned an NBA franchise he'd name it the Johnny Awesomes, which would still be cooler than OKC's final six choices.

I just like to smile! Smiling is my favorite. John Phillips believes the Celtics taught us lessons far beyond how to play basketball.

Dear Mitch, if you're holding this letter you already know. The house has been boarded up. The doors. The windows. Everything. We're at the Comfort Inn. Room 112. I love you. Frank. PS: Mitch, please don't trade for Ron Artest. I still love you. Sincerely, With Malice.

Two questions: Does somebody need a hug? And do consistent minutes make a player consistent?

With all due respect, I didn't realize you'd gotten experimental surgery to get your balls removed. That's how most Clipper fans feel about Elton Brand. Sixer fans? Not so much.

I remember Boston, and that victory was as sweet as the cream pie for which the town was named. Green Bandwagon kicks back and reviews Doc Rivers' 1993 book "Those Who Love the Game."

Get back, I'll windmill ya. Second year Knicks forward, Wilson Chandler, impresses new coach Mike D'Antoni by exacting his vengeance by proxy.

And that is all. If bloggers reading want to get involved with the Carnival of the NBA, join the group at Ballhype. You can also get information on upcoming (and past) editions of the carnival at blogcarnival.com. High fives and hugs go out to the carnival's ringleader, Matt of Blog-a-Bull.com. He's neat. God speed.

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