Hatering: USA beats Turkey 81-64

Don’t get me wrong, I love my country…is what we’re all conditioned to say. Claiming to hate your country is like claiming to hate Kevin Durant–a deviant thought, best to be kept secret until that transcendent moment when President Durant bans weekends by fiat. As a self-interested, yet self-pitying American, I want the best for America. But what’s best for America is so far from Istanbul, it might as well be exist in Constantinople.

Sorry, I was too young for the “miracle” of America fake-liking hockey. Sorry, I came of age in a time of job-deficient oligarchy, of 24-hour news squawking, of an American malaise so bad, it’s good we’re too dumb to comprehend the enormity. My future’s bleak, half my half-jaded friends twist in unemployment’s frigid wind–and I’m supposed to cheer our boys against Angola? Sure, why not? Bring on the distraction, hand over the Double-Down-scented-snuggie, let’s do this!

(Perusing roster, slumping shoulders, frowning, contemplating a sneering fart) Continue Reading…

Nothing. Really, I don’t care. My point is there is no point–this is sports evaluation nihilism, stop reading you idiot. Glad Steph made the team, enthusiastic about him existing in the presence of basketball greats like Tyson Chandler, thrilled about all the legal offensive goaltending, but…there just isn’t much to be learned about NBA basketball here. I do love these moments, though:

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