It was impossible for me to accept the reactions of the
posters when I first posted (and hitting that POST button for the first time IS
SCARY!!). I applaud Footie for
trying. I jumped back away, steaming
mad, too, for awhile too before trying again.
Again, my second post was also arrogant and I got called out and completely
pissed off at the posters' reactions here. Fuck them. It
took me a third try to just gave up and surrender somewhat and admitted stuff and came
out with it and then cleaned out my house and threw everything into the dumpster behind
my crappy neighborhood the Indian restaurant (that uses frozen corn in some of
the subjees to stretch it. Take that
shit back to Nepal!!).
Anyway, Roarkie, first let me say that the reason you can’t score on FK is
not because of his defensive techniques,
[and please stop your whining and read the life story of
Brandon Jennings in this week’s newspapers.
He tagged along with his cousins in Compton to the basketball courts AT
FOUR YEARS OLD and wanted to play and they told him the only way you could play is if you stop crying
and start getting tough. He got stomped
on and learned to stomp back at a very young age and now is close to the NBA
Finals – okay, the Eastern ones anyway.
He's listed generously at 6 foot 1, but is really about 5-9. All his cousins are laying on their couches in Compton laughing and reliving their
tales of their little cousin who is now badgering the Celtics to the point of frustration]
The reasons you can't score on his are because (1) FK sweats like a fuckin
pig. Honestly. He wears no shirt in the post so his sweat is
right on you and so disgusting. He does
this on purpose. He’s always on the SKINS
team. He really should see somebody
about that faucet coming out of his sweat glands; and (2) you travel every
single time you touch the ball, shuffling those size 14 boats of yours and (3) you shoot like mother.
I hope FK comes back in his own damn time when he feels like
it and when he’s ready to just say:
Okay, I get it, you guys are really a bunch of ex-losers but a beloved
group (the kind of premies, when I was a honcho, that I used to AVOID LIKE THE
PLAGUE) But, in a way, I like all
people, so that’s not really true. I’m a
people person, but I just wore a tailored suit and ate toe jam on toast all
day, got a bit of a paunch and got sucked in like everybody else. I thought I was on the outside looking in,
watching Huntley and Brinkley and Casey Stengel on my 10-inch bathroom TV while
leaning on my baragon in my fancy hotel beds, but now here I am on this site
and ready to barf a bit and maybe laugh a bit and like you,
trying to make out of what happened in my past. Some of the insights people have here are GREAT, FK.
Mike, let me say, seriously, on other thing. Your post mentioned your beloved son, whom I
have known since you held him in your long scrawny arms (and it goes without
saying that sorry, kid, that you look like your father) (and by the way can’t you get to a gym and get in playing shape? As you know
those muscles are vanishing at an astonishing rate – might help that crappy
hook shot of yours – the jumper’s not too bad, but again, the constant
travelling. Why don’t they just get rid
of dribbling for gosh sakes in the NBA AND COLLEGE, where it's an art like dancing?).
As far as moving into an ashram or residence and giving up
my entire twenties, unlike you, my friendly local householders, who I longed to be and so wished to be one) one thing I regret forever -- and that is not having
a child or family of my own. I gave away up some of my very
most creative and energetic years of my life to this guy go bring peace on
earth, I mean as it turned out prosperity to the Hans Family (houses around the world, a fine
dining restaurant and bar in the bush of Australia, the finest travel and accommodations
around the wrld that stuffed envelopes in a darshan line can buy). I along with your friends created a city in Florida twice where
20,000 people for two weeks came and one was born even.
I created a fine dining restaurant in the bush of Australia with my bare
hands and Australian friends, making sure everything was just so, and what a beautiful accomplishment
for of us who worked there in the beginning years in the last 90s. The dedicated chefs, line cooks, waitstaff, back of the house, etc. With worked with pride. It's something I took with me.
But, Mike, I don’t have a family, really. I missed all those lessons. I’ll never get them. And now, I am having some family issues, like
I said way down below in a recent post (about Manchester by the Sea; I'm going through more Kleenex than a darshan recovery room). And
it's all connected to the fucked up-ness that occurred by moving into an ashram
and following FK’s directions at 21. That’s
right, FK’s – not GMJ’s, but FK’s. That’s
how it came down. From him. It had the SANT JI signature, but it was from FK. But, I don’t blame him, however, because, like me,
he was just going along with the program – really, hoping to bring real peace
to everyone. Like us all. Dedicated to peace. Again, I regret greatly not
having had a family. I did propagation
of another kind.
Please work on your movements while pivoting on one foot,
around and around the stationery pivot foot.
It’s the key to success on the basketball court. It will also prevent you from starting your
dribble before lifting your pivot foot, which we all know is the definition of
travelling. Like getting a running start
before you start dribbling like every NBA and college guard. It’s horrible watching Issiah Thomas WALK
EVERY SINGLE TIME. Again, DEMAND that FK
wear a shirt when he plays you.
Gross
Finally, Five Thirty-Eight has declared Lesley’s chances of
being misunderstood at nearly 57% -- the highest of any regular poster here. [Sorry, Les, we kid because we love -- I WISH I
lived in Australia so much, after my five visits and work all day long in the
hot sun, I just loved it. Though, they don't seem to get along with all races too well.] -- Love to you and your friend, and I hope he takes his time and visits us again. It is NOT easy. -- OTS
