A grave manufacturing error has occurred at the assembly site of alternate realities. Who or what gave the green light on twisting fate into submission resulting in the squeezing out of a good Knicks team?
I watch an efficient collective of athletes defeat the Boston Celtics twice in the first two games of the playoffs and suddenly become paranoid. I'm the victim of inception with an Allan Houston bobblehead as a totem. It stands on a mantle defying me with its never ending enthusiasm, all the while reminding me of a past eternity where hope was nonexistent.
No longer rooting for the underdog makes me feel abusive. I'm on the other side of a previous masochistic existence like a twelve year old giving his father ten lashings for burning the Ellio's pizza. There's no knowing what would happen to me if the Knicks swept the Celtics. What if they win the Eastern Conference? My mind wanders towards future footage of Melo holding up the mythical artifact known as the Larry O'Brien trophy...
This is a bad mushroom trip.
Analyze a Knicks fan in its current state when you get a chance. Sweaty, mumbling, pupils dilated, responding to most questions with "I don't know, man..." A swift exit in the next round would do us some good because one cannot go from Corona Lights to crack without suffering a mutation.
Science.
-Alex Moran
No comments:
Post a Comment