I never finished this post but felt like throwing it up anyway.

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! BASKETBALL RELATED CONTENT! COVER YOUR EARS AND PUT GRANNY IN HER PANIC KNICKERS!

With that out of the way, let us proceed into a series of anecdotes that illustrates why "The GReat Narrative" is the only pseudo religion worth making up. Amen.

Rasheed Wallace had the day off Thursday. So did his team, the Detroit Pistons (though located in the suburban locale of Auburn Hills, Mi). Athletic careers consist of practice, patience, and preparation. Anyone can be good at hooping up in the moment, it's those that carry the torch through all waking hours that stand out. When Rasheed works he only averages about 33.3 minutes of clock in time per night. Those 33.3 are a one man parade of yammering, towel throwing, and dances as the volcanic center of a circle of men swirling in turn. He has his own dance. Students of dance would say "That is a very good dance."

And it is. He jumps in a small circle, waving fist crested hands to and fro in epileptic bouts of striation. (Author's Note: WHAT IN THE FUCKING SHIT FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKMISSILE IS THAT LAST SENTENCE?!?)

Through out his playing career, Rasheed has been a wonderful player, reinventing the PF position with an influx of finesse. Finesse and yammering. However wonderful Sheed is as a player, he is far outshone by his personality. Sheed's world is one big argument. He is frequently ejected from games for yelling too much. This temperament has adverse reactions for the team but even the misers in charge know enough not to siphon a man from his passion.

With his day off Rasheed did what most millionaires do...watching television. considering purchasing a power yacht, and smashing lizard heads with a pointy rock. Do not blame Rasheed for the lizard heads. It is a culture of lizard smashing that is the culprit. Don't let these Monopoly man antics fool you, on the day of March 4th, Rasheed Wallace was anywhere and everywhere, editing the universe to bring us closer together.

The day began at 8am by a telephone call from the telephone company. The reason was clear enough. They wanted money, when was the last time a customer service representative called you up just to talk.

People hate courtesy calls but I LOVE them. I attach a body to the disembodied voice on the other end of the line, wondering where they are and what their lives might be.