Hova Knows Best

I love this fucking country...

One thing you gotta love about America is that it is so easy to find redemption. Life in the land of Apple Pie isn’t like the movies, where the wayward protagonist may have to run up a mountain and destroy communism a la Rocky IV or sail to the Worlds End to bring back witty Jack to once again walk along the path of righteousness (or at least improve your PR). Nope, all it takes is 2 little words: “I’m Sorry.”

“What you want me to do, I’m Sorry!”

Yup! In the land of some free, home of some brave, those who get the fact that the easiest way to find your way back in the good graces of the huddled and scolding masses are those who beg us for our forgiveness. We don’t care what you did, as long as you feel kinda bad about it, or at least tell us you feel kinda bad about it, we’ll let it slide. We’re not seeking to Kill Bill, we’re more like

It worked for Kobe, Bill (for Monica and Rwanda), Laura Bush (she actually killed a guy), the Catholic Church, Jerry Maguire, Julia Roberts in Closer, John Edwards, Alan Wong, Mel Gibson (eventually), and KKKramer. There’s nothing we love more than seeing those who once were on top apologize for falling off their pedestal. After they complete their round of humility, we’ll pick them up by their bootstraps and start a slow clap for them. As long as you can still score 81, we won’t be mad, we’ll just be impressed.

Those who don’t accept their plate of humble pie are doomed to swallow a bucket full of doo-doo butter. Mike needs to apologize for Jesus Juice. OJ needs to say “I still believe that they deserved to die, and I Hope they’re burning in Hell, but I’m sorry that I did it (and got caught)” Hillary needs to say “umm, I’m sorry for the yellow pantsuit.” White people need to apologize for slavery. Black people need to apologize for the Ying-Yang Twins and anything else that shows up on BET Uncut. Mike Vick, Barry Bonds, Britney, Paris, Alan Wong, John Kerry, the people behind Spiderman 3, and Osama Bin Laden. Jack Bauer needs to apologize to Audrey, and Lindsay needs to apologize for this.

And this.

The list goes on…
Some people need to be sorry for ever existing.

The only person who seems to be exempt from this is R.Kelly, who’s album just went #1 on the charts despite that he has a habit of going #1 on little girls. But, then again he did give us “Trapped in the Closet,” which was fucking genius, so who cares? After all, he is the Pied Piper, Black, handsome and rich, plus he sings, and is a flirt. I’ll keep steppin.

See, America doesn’t need to export democracy, it just needs to export forgiveness (not Christianity, though). Then, maybe everyone else will forgive us.

Thriving in the Chamber of Fear

What the fuck is this?

LeBron James is going to the finals. Nobody thought it would happen except for him. With a ragtag bunch of shifty miscreants and overweight and overwrought fans digging their soles on his back, he climbed the ladder and threw it down like Bill Walton told him to. Those who opposed him (read: Tayshaun Prince) cowered in his path like a Yorkshire Terrier walking into Michael Vick’s house. He elevated his game, elevated his sport and elevated his city to a euphoria unfelt before. In the kinescopes of history, this fact isn’t a big deal. It won’t bring about peace in the middle east, lead to a cure for AIDS or do much to get me laid, but it is still something worth mentioning. At 22, he is cementing his place in the grand halls of people who we call legends by executing the kind of performances that we’ll inevitably hear about on Sportscenter 30 years from now. Pantheon type shit.

Across the country, at the same time, those who only dream of being legends watched and reveled in the exploits of someone who is the same age but walks on a different earth. As we cheer him on, we curse him, because, well, fuck! He was born 6’8” and 240 lbs. He has “Chosen 1” tatted between his blades. He’s been touted since he was 11. He is a God amongst Men. His flaws on the court are constantly scrutinized, but in due time, he overcomes them. But, in spite of this, one inescapable fact remains…

He looks goofy as hell when he smiles. Deal with it.

We dedicate this blog to the flawed deities that we idolize (and mock) and impractical dreams that we hold ever so loosely. We have our tragic hero (see the title) and our smug humor (see the post above). We’re outside the Pantheon, looking in through the greasy windows. When you’re on the top of the mountain, everyone can see you. When you’re halfway up, there are a lot of places you can go. We can be our own heroes. We got nothing but words and time, and although we can’t dunk like LeBron, we can write about whatever the fuck we want. That is, until we go corporate.

Read on.

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