However, nothing will ever erase “The Bounty Hunter” from your memory. If you saw that one, it’s staying with you forever. Horror.

Aside from being visually masterful and emotionally mesmerizing, it was one of the most creative and intriguing films that I’ve seen in a long time. That’s why Chris Nolan is brilliant, because he wrote and directed this epic. His mind is the scene of awesomeness. To be able to pen and produce something so novel and original is truly impressive, especially in a day and age where seemingly every obscure comic book is being optioned into a movie and every mildly successful 80′s movie is being remade to make a quick nostalgic buck.

However, if there’s one aspect that Nolan’s film lacks, it’s dialogue. Conversations between characters in “Inception” aren’t that substantial or intricate at all compared to other aspects. They just fill the space and lay the groundwork. There are only a couple of poignant lines of dialogue which ground certain foundational pillars for plot purposes. So if you’re expecting “Casablanca” or “Godfather” type dialogue, you won’t be getting it here. But Nolan’s cinematography and score are enough to create moments which soar even without meaningful conversation. These moments are fantastically dramatic, tense, and entertaining.

What I take away from “Inception” is the notion that ambition or fiction must be grounded against perspective and reality.  And also, that relativity is singular. Perception may not always be reality. And consciousness is fleeting, but purpose rarely is. But more importantly, after a while, what you believe, feel, and want may be more important to you than what you know. But on the other hand, what you know may be more important to you than what you believe, feel, and want. So really – what you know must be grounded against what you feel, and vice versa. What a paradox.

Since the last thing I want to do is ruin this film for you by creating unmeetable expectations through over-hype, I’ll say that the movie was just alright.

But in all honesty, until you watch it, your life is incomplete.

But he’s no Michael Jordan. Not many kids want to be like Lando. He’s not revolutionizing his sport in this country or the world or redefining the landscape of sports in general. He’s merely the best player in a horrible league: Major League Soccer.

Despite Donovan’s employment by the Los Angeles Galaxy of the MLS (which touts the highest payroll of any team in America), he still is a hobo compared to his counterparts in the English Premier League, which boasted an average player salary of $1.8 million in 2009. The MLS average salary in 2010 was $138,169. Sucks for Landon.

But his stock is soaring after his great performance in the 2010 World Cup. The richest soccer club in the world, Manchester City of the English Premier League, has been rumored to have significant interest in Landon and could offer him a yearly salary in the range of $4 million. Man City has invested $250 million in its current squad, including $11.1 million per year in Emmanuel Adebayor and $10.5 million per year in Carlos Tevez, the 6th and 8th highest paid futbol players in the world.

If Man City offers that $4 mil per year to Landon, it’d be a huge increase over his current salary of $2.13 mil. (He had been making $900K for the last 3 seasons with the Galaxy.) However, since the Galaxy has Landon under contract for the next 4 years, Man City would have to be willing to pay a hefty transfer fee to get Donovan, which would be payable to the Galaxy and the MLS – 50/50. Estimates of this transfer fee are in the neighborhood of $12 million.

By all assumptions, Donovan would fare well in the EPL. In January 2010, the Galaxy agreed to loan Donovan to the Everton club. He played so well that Everton wanted to extend his loan, but the Galaxy declined so it could get its star back for the 2010 MLS season.

But does Landon even want to go to Europe? He’ll be a periphery player at best in England, whereas he is the revered golden boy for US soccer, trying to increase appeal and relevancy to the American fan base.

He will likely have more endorsement opportunities coming soon, so Man City’s doubling of his salary may not be a huge plus for him. He currently has deals with Gatorade, AT&T, and the Mexican lottery. But anyone who has seen him speak knows that he lacks the innate charisma of a Michael Jordan, the huggable teady-bear-ness of a Shaquille O’Neal, or the shameless promotion of sex appeal of a Danica Patrick or David Beckham. Unless he’s just scored a goal, Landon is mostly a stoic bore.

He can’t even make a love-child/secret baby story interesting, where a UK woman claims she’s pregant with Landon’s baby. This was potentially interesting because Landon is still legally married to his estranged wife. But his wife apparently has stated that she is aware of the allegation and is “extremely supportive of Donovan.” Are you kidding me? Kobe’s wife would be driving around in a Lamborghini made out of one thousand separate 4 million dollar diamond rings, and then would have made Kobe tattoo her name across his forehead. Landon then said, “I was informed of the possibility during the World Cup, and if I need to take responsibility, then I will provide the appropriate support.” Kudos to him for being a responsible human being, but he sure doesn’t know how to utilize free publicity. He didn’t want to talk to his lawyer first, didn’t want to tip toe around the possibilities to let the media speculate for a week or two. He didn’t schedule a press conference or say anything remotely entertaining. He just wants to play soccer. BORING. American sports fans appreciate the backstory/sidestory/substory just as much as the game itself. This just shows that Landon isn’t ready for the big time; he handled his situation with too much class. Compared to the Tiger Woods drama, Landon’s secret baby story is like watching grass grow … on a soccer field, while people are playing soccer. An intensely boring game of soccer.

Moreover, Landon’s 28 years old and in the middle of his playing prime. He shouldn’t spend his top-earning years stuck in the mud for American soccer. He owes it to himself to achieve some success outside of the US. And right now the best chance for that lies with Man City and the EPL, not with the US National Team. He’ll be considered old for the 2014 World Cup in Brazil. Clint Dempsey will also be pushing it at 31 years of age. And Tim Howard will be 35 by then. This core dodged a bullet to get out of group play this year. And that bullet’s name was Slovenia. Slovenia for crying out loud. How can Landon and the US expect to be competitive with the the rest of the world with an aging core and a disinterested home front?

So, Donovan should do what every other professional athlete does – go and get paid while the suitors are still knocking at his door.

Loud noises.

His popularity is at an all time high right now. Strike while the iron’s hot because soccer in America will not catch on. The pace is slow. Goals and entertaining plays are too few and far between. It’s boring compared to basketball, football, and even baseball. (Even with baseball, anything can happen on any given pitch, and sometimes in between pitches.) Soccer is people running around with a turnover every 10 seconds. It’s like watching the traffic of NASCAR, but instead of cars, there are people; and instead of car wrecks, there are goals.

With regards to money and advertising, the MLS’s best pitchman is Landon Donovan, who is a dull stiff for the aforementioned reasons. And American futbol’s biggest draw (and highest paid player at $6.5 million this season), Dave Beckham, is 35 years old – in the twilight of his career. And he just tore his Achilles Tendon which caused him to miss the World Cup. And he’s British. Thus, the MLS has no likeable frontman (no Tiger Woods, no LeBron James, no Derek Jeter, no Peyton Manning, no Roger Federer) to sell its sport, so companies aren’t going to back the MLS.

Also, it’s not even efficient for companies to sponsor and advertise during soccer matches. There is only one place for commercials – during a short halftime which is sandwiched by two 45-minute periods of uninterrupted play, unlike American football, basketball, and baseball where sponsors and advertisers can peddle their products substantially with regularity. And a thin electronic banner streaming company logos along the length of the field isn’t going to entice big business to invest in soccer. Not even allowing sponsors to print their logo/name across the chest of each player’s jersey is sufficient. American businesses prefer 30 second commericals or 1 minute super commericals with talking pictures. This is where we can see Michael Jordan play 1-on-1 with himself, Nike’s Write the Future, or the LeBrons.

But maybe it’s very disharmony with good advertising is what makes soccer pure – as big business hasn’t completely corrupted, watered down, and cheapened the game yet. But if Landon stays in the MLS and magically becomes likeable, maybe we’ll see an advertisement in the goals’ netting, some paint on the grass in the goalie box, or a moving off-sides line a la the technology the NFL and the NCAA uses to mark the first-down line in football.

So, Landon can either stay in the MLS to attempt to increase the sport’s popularity in America, or he can take the huge pay day in England. I’m guessing he’ll stay and try to be America’s golden boy of soccer. It would be a boring choice for a fittingly predictable person.

BAM.

Last night was Game 6 of the 2010 NBA Finals. The Los Angeles Lakers were facing elimination, trying to force a Game 7. And they managed to peel themselves off the ropes from their Game 5 no show, leaving no doubt that they can hustle with and dominate the Celtics on any given night.

Game 7 musts for the Lakers: 1. Win the rebounding battle. In the first 6 games of this series, the team that has hauled down the most rebounds has won the game. Although this is a pretty obvious correlation, it’s representative of the focused aggression needed to grind out a win. Which leads us to…

2. Andrew Bynum has to have the game of his life. He played only 15 minutes in Game 6 as he re-aggravated his knee injury mid-game. He’s listed as questionable for Game 7, but he’ll undoubtedly play since the Championship is on the line. And with Kendrick Perkins, the Celtics’ enforcer with the least natural talent of any player in the league, going down early in the 1st quarter with a knee injury, the Lakers absolutely have to capitalize on Boston’s lack of size inside. Perkins will probably start and try to play; a knee sprain isn’t going to keep him out of a Game 7. But assuming that his minutes are limited, the Celtics will insert Sheed and Big Baby into power forward for extended minutes and will probably shift KG into center. Thus, Pau and Bynum have to play balls to the walls. And it’s shamefully selfish to demand that a 22 year old kid with a torn meniscus and his whole career ahead of him to play through injury. But in all seriousness, he has to take one for the team. He’s playing for his own legacy, Phil’s legacy, Kobe’s legacy, the Lakers’ legacy, and the Celtics’ anti-legacy. Fight through the pain. Do whatever it takes. If you have to, channel the that pent up anger of Kobe demanding your ass to be shipped out. Channel your suppressed rage of Rihanna picking Matt Kemp over you. And know that if you play well, the ridiculous rumors of Chris Bosh coming to the Lakers will disappear. Do it for the team, Andy.

3. Lastly, Kobe needs help this one last time. That means Odom, Pau, and Bynum need to box out and rebound. Artest needs to make his 3′s again. Please, Ron, make your 3′s and keep suffocating Paul Pierce.

My biggest fear for Game 7 = with the Lakers leading midway or late in the 4th with the Larry O’Brien within their grasp, Paul Pierce fakes another career-ending knee/leg/back/mind/spirit injury, killing the Lakers’ momentum and, God forbid, comes back to drain a hundred 3-pointers to clinch the Championship for the Celtics. Should this happen the skies will rain blood for a thousand years, and Marlon Brando will turn over in his grave as Paul Pierce will have to be worthy of being called the greatest actor of all time.

Some things to think about: Phil Jackson has never ever coached a Game 7 in the Finals. In 2008, before the Celtics beat the Lakers in the Finals, Boston had won 3 straight series by way of Game 7′s on their way to the title. The Kobe-Gasol Lakers have won their only Game 7 encounter, which was in 2009 against the Rockets. Also in ’09, the Celtics won their opening series against the Bulls after a Game 7 win, but lost in Game 7 of the Conference semi-finals to the Magic. Experience in these pressure filled, do-or-die situations definitely goes to the Celtics. But anything can and will happen in a Game 7; they’re unpredictable. (Vegas has the Lakers as a 7 point favorite.) Let’s hope Kobe and the boys bring it so we can all celebrate their 16th Championship at home.

But we can expect to see some action and drama tomorrow as the USA and England compete in their first matches of the tourney. Vegas odds have England winning this one, a familiar occurrence in the lopsided rivalry. And even before this match has begun, the Brits already have the upper hand.

The injured David Beckham and the rest of the English team arrived in South Africa dressed to kill (their opponents), sporting some swanky, seamlessly tailored, three piece suits.

The short, old, bald dude in the back can't even suck in his throat fat enough to fasten the top button of his shirt. And he still looks better than the Americans.

Meanwhile, the American team stumbled off the plane in generic, unflattering track suits stylishly accented by the Nike logo, and creatively complemented with sneakers and baseball caps. And yes, they are in fact carrying their own luggage. At least they left the Crocs in the States. Or so we hope.

American fashionistas.

But that’s enough about clothes. Here’s Vegas’ guide to who will win the Cup…

Group A

South Africa 150/1 — Mexico 66/1 — Uruguay 50/1 — France 20/1

Group B

Argentina 6/1 — Nigeria 100/1 — South Korea 300/1 — Greece 150/1

Group C

England 8/1 — United States 50/1 — Algeria 500/1 — Slovenia 200/1

Group D

Germany 14/1 — Australia 150/1  — Serbia 66/1 — Ghana 66/1

Group E

Netherlands 9/1 — Denmark 150/1 — Japan 300/1 — Cameroon 100/1

Group F

Italy 14/1 — Paraguay 80/1 — New Zealand 1000/1 — Slovakia 250/1

Group G

Brazil 4/1 — North Korea 2000/1 — Ivory Coast 50/1 — Portugal 25/1

Group H

Spain 4/1 — Switzerland 200/1 — Honduras 1000/1 — Chile 40/1

And for your comedic enjoyment, the brilliant Stephen Colbert offered his insight into the World Cup (and Michael Jordan).

A week ago, Detroit Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga was robbed of a perfect game on the admittedly blown call of an umpire. Soon after, MLB commissioner Bud Selig decided not to overturn that blown call which would have awarded Galarraga a perfect game, an ultra rare feat accomplished only 20 times in over 100 years of pro baseball. Some people disagree with Selig’s reluctance to change the on-the-field call. But he refrained from overturning the call not because it may have opened up a can of worms regarding blown calls in the past (having to retroactively fix blown calls from previous games). Rather, the can of worms that Selig is trying to trying to side step is the setting of a precedent where the commissioner’s discretion after the fact can trump an umpire’s in-game call.

Proud Parent - Manny Ramirez

Ladies and gentlemen, our very own Manny Ramirez is trying to get preggers. Today it was made public that he tested positive for HCG – a female fertility drug. Will it be a boy? Will it be a girl? Will it be eight boys and girls? Octo-Manny … wouldn’t that be something special? But what I don’t understand is why Major League Baseball punished this baby lover with a 50 game suspension and partial salary forfeiture of $7.7 million for trying to get knocked up? I mean, the miraculousness of child birth is sacred and cherished, and for the MLB to deem HCG a banned substance is cruel and insensitive to Manny’s fatherly dreams.

HCG, which is known to be used by former steroid users, restarts the body’s testosterone cycle and boosts sperm count. By the way, this is the only statistic that Manny is trying inflate by using this substance. But back to the important issue not to be ignored. Manny is trying to be a father, people. Yes, 2 boys have already been born from the fruit of his juiced loins, but he wants more. He needs more. He just wants a baby girl in the Ramirez clan – just a daughter to push on the swings, jump rope with, and teach how to dreadlock her own hair like his. Is that so criminal of him? Are we, the people of America, so cold and short sighted as to dismiss him as a liar and a cheat for one positive test of a fertility drug? Who are we to cast a judging eye onto a good man who just wants to be a papi. I for one will not condemn him for yearning to experience the joys of childbirth yet again. I mean, he sacrificed his reputation and $7.7 million for another offspring. Is he not allowed his happiness, America?

Also, the MLB’s punishing of Manny brings up an incredibly important social issue. Professional male athletes sometimes get a bad rap as being philanderers and womanizers who seek to spread their seeds and have love children with loose and tawdry women. Its dealing with Ramirez is obviously a case of the MLB banning HCG and the like to prohibit players from becoming illegitimate baby daddies. Yeah, the testosterone part is important too. But what’s paramount here is that the MLB is taking a stand against unplanned childbirth. And I call that being a responsible organization with family values. Furthermore, it’s quite amazing how the MLB has family values in mind while still being so anti-children in Manny’s case.

Now trusty Juan's gotta pick up the pieces ... as usual.

In a related topic, in celebration of Cinco de Mayo, the Dodgers organization promoted their newly named section of seats in left field – Mannywood, in honor of former fan favorite Manny Ramirez. Little did those fans (and the rest of the baseball world) know that the slogan on the promotional shirts that were printed and sold in Mannywood that night would forebode the Dodger fan’s worst fear. The shirts read “I was in Mannywood” in Spanish. “Was” being the painful word. Unfortunately for the Dodgers, the Mayor of Mannywood will be perennial under-performer Juan Pierre for the next 50 games. And even more unfortunately for Mannywood is that it doesn’t exist anymore. The Dodgers felt it appropriate to rename this section “Dodgertown.” That beat out “Juanwood” in the emergency brainstorm session? Boooring.

Estoy viendo los Lakers.

Mexico is dying. It’s rotten and diseased. And while everybody knows what’s wrong with it, no one can do a thing to help it out of its existential cesspool. It’s the Rush Limbaugh of countries right now…except that we kind of care about Mexico. Its troubles are twofold.  America’s controversial war on drugs allows drug lords to flourish should they be industrious enough (which they are) to traffic their product into the States for deep-pocketed consumers. Also, Mexico’s failure to provide its citizens with security for so many years has given these cartels free reign over las ciudades as political assassinations and corruption are regular and rampant. The police force is underwhelming and serves as target practice for the bad guys as its officers are inadequately trained, shockingly undermanned, and easily corrupted. But what can be done to alleviate this madness? The U.S. could decriminalize all drugs and regulate their sale in this country while taxing all transactions and profits made from them. That would bring in a constant revenue stream and might even serve as a Heimlich thrust for this choking economy. But the key is regulation, which is always difficult to achieve effectively on a national scale. “I want to control it as a business. I don’t want it near schools. I don’t want it sold to children. That’s an infamnia,” as one portly mafioso once said. But it’s not as easy as saying words with conviction, as we’ve seen with the unfortunate rise of underage alcoholism and smoker’s lung. Legalization of at least some drugs should be allowed, though, like marijuana. I personally have never tried it; but it seems to me that it’s the one drug that never killed anybody. Plus, if there’s anything that Michael Phelps has taught us, it’s that you can smoke the mary jane and still win 14 gold medals by the age of 23, rise to international super-stardom, and also enjoy Lil’ Wayne’s music without people ridiculing you for it. Taking another pull out of Phelps’ stroke, you can also eat 10,000 calories a day as long as you swim 10,000 yards every day. This guy really reaches for the extremes when following the adage, “balance is everything.” What a role model. Be like Mike.

Back to Mexico. The new found attention that this flavor-of-the-week news story has garnered will buy President Obama some time wherein his economic plan can begin to take effect and the stock market can clutch onto any vine to pull itself out of this recessional quicksand. Take people’s minds off of the economy is the subtle agenda. Obama has just wrapped up a media blitzkrieg by appearing on The Tonight Show and 60 Minutes and by holding a nationally-televised press conference trying to give us a little peace of mind as he tries to assure us that he’s the steady hand on the rudder of recovery. A bit of levity and some charisma go a long way in getting everybody to breathe easier for a moment about financial ruin so that brainiac Barack can have some time to get us back on track.

But really, the crap-fest in Mexico reminds Americans that even though we’re going through rough times, other people have got it rougher. Murder, crime, drugs, beheadings, kidnappings, political assassinations, watching this on TV. So let’s all count to ten and chill out a little bit regarding our financial woes. At least we’re not living in Mexico.

Twittering will let you type messages of 140 characters or less on your personal Twitter page in order to broadcast a message to the world while also communicating with specific people. Each person’s page is essentially a bunch of Facebook-like status updates organized as a blog page. Each page can be updated by entering a new tweet through a computer or cell phone. Twitter’s main stream popularity really sky-rocketed after President Obama’s first address to Congress where several congressmen and senators twittered not about the historic speech that they were witnessing, but about trivial things. At one point during Obama’s speech, Texas representative Joe Barton issued a snarky tweet, “Aggie basketball game is about to start on espn2 for those of you that aren’t going to bother watching pelosi smirk for the next hour,” referring to House Speaker, Nancy, who was sitting in plain view directly behind the president during his address. Since then, Twitter has been blowin’ up with media attention. Now, most people are amused by it or just don’t get it; some have even gone so far as to deride it with put-downs and nasty words. Similar in that regard to the crime against humanity called Crocs, Twittering is sometimes perceived as being loud and unnecessary, but won’t fizzle into irrelevancy because it’s being pervaded into our lives with such rude and unrelenting persistence.

But from the way Twitter markets itself though its demo video, it’s supposed to invite your family, friends, and acquaintances into your life, your real life that apparently happens between emails and phone calls and blog posts. So actually, the really important stuff in your life isn’t what you deem worthy of the extra effort to type a thought-out and purposeful email. Rather the important stuff lies with those little things you should choose to tweet about whimsically, such as: i am drinking root beer, my dog is flatulent, at work … bored, in class … bored, at dinner … very excited, don’t know where my phone is, can someone tweet it? Needless to say the tweets end up being just random thoughts or brief opinions about occurrences that other people are supposed to be amused by. Twittering seems like it’s for any of us who has concise thoughts to divulge, but no one immediate nearby to divulge them to. Twitter is almost like an imaginary friend who’s always there to listen. This begs the question: do we really need to be saying something all the time? Apparently we absolutely do.

For example, take senior U.S. senator and national disappointment – John McCain. All I know is that his Twitter page better be connected directly to his Blackberry. Because if I’ve been refreshing his page every 5 minutes, checking for updates, to read the John McCain’s authentically dry, snide, coma-inducing remarks and it turns out to be somebody else’s maverickiness that I’m absorbing, that would be quite angering. I need my daily dose of bitter-old-man hatefulness  from this adorable Vietnam war veteran. I crave that frequent sensation of apathy and disinterest whenever he tweets about pork barrel spending and earmark reform. Let’s examine 3 particular tweets from March 10. Prefacing these 3 posts, McCain lists, in his noble opinion, the top 10 pieces of pork for that day. Who knows if he’s actually researched and looked closely at all of this so-called pork; but some of them don’t sound like pork, at face value at least. Like this $50,000 worth of spending for the City of Charlotte for gang prevention – maybe gang prevention is defined as pork from McCain’s senile disposition, but it sounds alright at first glance. Now, other particular spending doesn’t seem so sound, like $1,284,525 for Rolls Royce; that seems no bueno, especially with the added gravity of it being on his Twitter page. And I just gave myself that rush of apathy and disinterest! Who needs John McCain after all? Anyways, back to those 3 special tweets. From what I can piece together, he was gleefully frustrated with other members defending their porky earmarks. And due to the awkward pause he himself created through his statement about the increase in earmarks from 1991 until now, Mr. McCain felt it appropriate to tweet a link to a 4-second-long YouTube clip of crickets chirping.

Perusing John’s tweets got me thinking about what Twitter pages would have to be created for me to take the plunge into this unappealing network. Not that the doyerfan doesn’t keep me chomping at the bit for more fresh updates, but the following would really make Twitter entertaining. And until these are created, I don’t see it happening. I’ll share those later. Until then, watch Adolf share his thoughts and enamorments of Twitter.

The King posted his 22nd career triple-double versus the Clippers.

On Tuesday night, we witnessed one of the most dynamic and well-performing teams in the league visit one of the most poorly run and blatantly wretched franchises in the history of athletic competition. The Cleveland Cavaliers and King James entered Staples Center to face the floundering Clippers with a chance to claim a share of the league’s best record thus far, while the Clip Show came into the game tied for the 2nd worst record in the Association. But until it dawned on the Cavs how much humiliation a loss to the Clippers would mean for their friends and families, we observed two very contrasting teams play equally poorly for 36 brief minutes, only to have them regress to their rightful roles in the end. Or as the always eloquent voice of the Clippers – Ralph Lawler solemnly proclaimed, “the Clippers get their heart breaken again.” Bingo, Ralph.

The Clippers showcased a surprising starting lineup, in that the oft-injured Chris Kaman played his first minutes since 48 games ago. Baron Davis, Al Thornton and Eric Gordon also started with Marcus Camby playing 6th man, while Zach Randolph and his groundswell of lethargy rounded out the starting 5. On paper, this roster doesn’t look completely pathetic. But the inability to keep players healthy, a doofus for a head coach and an owner with Barack-ish patience (that prevents him from firing the general manager/coach) have earned this squad of losers its current hole in the ground at the bottom of the league.

Bron, snapshotting his Cavs' flyness

The Cavaliers’ offense crippled itself with poor shooting throughout the first 3 quarters. Mo Williams, Delonte West, and even LeBron James uncharacteristically failed to see their shots touch net during this span. It appeared to be one of those nights where a great team just can’t buy a bucket. Following a rousing pep talk from the King during the half-time break, the Cavs descended even further into embarrassment throughout the 3rd quarter. The Clippers had built their lead up to an almost untouchable 19 points; but when a team as regrettable as the Clippers are out in front of one as sound as the Cavs, evidently no lead is insurmountable. LeBron took over in the 4th with his versatile onslaught of making shots, sinking free throws and dishing to fellow Cavs for open looks. He finished with an impressive stat line, garnering a triple-double in his 2nd straight game. His 32 points, 13 boards, 11 assists, 2 steals, 2 rejections and 12 of 16 makes from the stripe as the spearhead of his squad’s destruction of a 19-point deficit only proved that the Cleveland Cavaliers are f’real.

Making Los Angeles’ 4th favorite basketball team look foolish in all departments, from game play to general management to fan base to a broad business model, were those Cleveland Cavs. Led by an authentic superstar and coupled by a general manager who nurtures a winning attitude, the Cavs needed only 4 seasons with BronBron at the helm to reach the NBA finals. And in an effort to retain the future of basketball in a Cavs jersey after his contract expires in 2010 and in order to prime the franchise for another title shot, the management further complemented its basketball Jesus with role players and play makers, the most catalyzing of whom being Mo Williams aka Bron’s Scottie. The Cavalier front office seemingly has the foresight and good judgment to complete the right deals and pursue the most fitting talent to put its team in a winning position. In contrast, the Clippers franchise has won only 3 playoff games since 1993 and just one playoff series in the past 20 years. And this explosion of accomplishments all occurred in just one post-season – 2006. How long can this franchise continue to coast on the overstated achievements of this lone, at best satisfactory season? Hopefully forever, because that’s all it has going for it, aside from those offensively entertaining commercials featuring Baron Davis and Marcus Camby urging us to “play loud.”

From its lifeless acting to its listless play on the hardwood, the forlorn Los Angeles Clippers is an entire organization of losers. Beginning at the top, owner Donald Sterling doesn’t know how to get the most bang for his buck. I mean, Elton Brand, Corey Maggette, Chris Kaman, Baron Davis, Marcus Camby, Zach Randolph, Michael Olowokandi? Be assured that these are players who have accomplished next to nothing with regards to individual accolades and even less when it comes to team achievements. The Kandi Man excluded, they all played integral roles for their respective former teams and had to scratch and claw to secure even an 8th seed in the playoffs. And Clipper management thought it a sound investment to unite these underachieving, overrated ne’er-do-well despondents to contend for a championship? I’m beginning to suspect that this is just a ruse in Donald Sterling’s nefarious design to re-create some hoops-version of the Cleveland Indians a la Charlie Sheen’s cult classic Major League. But there probably won’t be a Disney ending to this Clipper script if they continue to bungle and botch 19 point leads in the 4th quarter at home.

Mike Dunleavy Sr., seen here with his openly incestuous perv of a son, Mike Dunleavy Jr.

But most of the blame for the toilet bowl that is the Clippers has to fall to Mike Dunleavy Sr., who serves as head coach and general manager. In a rare position to fill both roles, Dunleavy wouldn’t be criticized if his team didn’t fail at such intense levels. And despite twice taking his former team, the Portland Trailblazers, to the Western Conference finals in the late-’90s, Dunleavy is failing his current team. Through 474 games at his current posts, the Clippers have amassed 284 losses and only 190 wins. Sure, numerous player injuries exacerbated the Clippers’ woes. But at some point Sterling has to say enough is enough and cut Dunleavy off. His contract expires in 2011; so maybe Clipper nation can breathe new life then. Or, Dunleavy could spare his unborn grandchildren any further associational humiliation, based purely on their familial ties, and retire from basketball immediately.

That game was a snapshot of the Good, and also the Bad and the Ugly. The Good: Cavs owner Dan Gilbert, GM Danny Ferry and head coach LeBron James. This organization has willed itself into fighting form through good judgment and sound planning across the board. However, this franchise’s one downer is still the god-awful name of the place that they call home in downtown Cleveland – Quicken Loans Arena. Compared to Portland’s Rose Garden, Detroit’s Palace of Auburn Hills, or even the old Great Western Forum in Inglewood, saying the words “Quicken Loans Arena” makes my tongue contemplate suicide. I can see why Clevelanders have dubbed the QLA, “the Q,” for short. Much snazzier. Meanwhile in Palookaville, the Clippers demonstrated The Bad, like really really bad … bad ownership, bad management, bad coaching, bad playing, bad shooting, bad passing, bad defense, bad attitude, bad doing, bad saying, bad thinking, bad being, bad wanting to being. You get the idea. And symmetrically enough, the one glimmer of positivity for the Clippers is the place that they call home in downtown L.A. – Staples Center. The Ugly: Zach Randolph.

Really, in that single game the Clippers instructed the world on how to drive a basketball franchise into the ground, while the Cavaliers demonstrated how to embed feelings of existential angst and everlasting envy in an opponent. With under 20 games remaining in this regular season and seemingly no winds of change to be signaled for at least another year, these two ball clubs will continue to align with their respective paths, so long as the Cavs retain LeBron James and the Clips continue to employ Mike Dunleavy Sr.

Aside from performing a viciously sexy pop-n-lock routine with America’s best dance crew, O’Neal lit up the hardwood every time he touched the rock. His highlight of the night was most certainly his pass between Dwight Howard’s legs to Chris Paul to preface a Shaq-sized all-handed slam. And after accepting the co-MVP trophy with Kobe, he even assigned new nicknames for himself and his former first mate – The Big Legendaries. How poignant. He’s as wise as he is large. This adds to a several other titles self-proclaimed by Shaq, signifying his playful relationship with the media. Such notables include: Shaq Fu, The Big Aristotle, The Big Baryshnikov, The Big Deporter and Superman. (We’re lucky that Shaq didn’t let Kobe pick out another nickname. “Wilt Chamberneezy” is, frankly, just lazy.) On a side note, how did Dwight Howard get away with so arrogantly claiming the nickname “Superman” from Shaq? After all, the Superman logo and the words “Man of Steel” were tattooed on Shaq’s arm long before Howard donned the red cape for last year’s Slam Dunk Contest. I guess when your name is Dwight, like Schrute, you want all of the aliases you can get, only Howard’s nickname should be the Man of Steal because he has verbal larceny in his heart.

While we’re on the topic of nicknames for NBA players, Man of Steal would be apt for Chris Paul, especially since CP3 isn’t much of a nickname at all. And like Paul, Kobe is one of the few superstars in the league without a cool go-to moniker; Black Mamba is still not cool. Also, putting the first letter of a player’s first name in front of the first syllable of his last name does not constitute a nickname, prime examples being T-Mac, D-Wade, D-Will, D-Rose, K-Dur, B-Roy, J-Rich, D-Fish. Practically every player’s name can be made to sound catchy by employing this generic formula. Let’s pack a new lunch. We can start with some of the more hilarious names currently in use around the league: The Machine – Sasha Vujacic, Ason Kidd which humorously notes Jason Kidd’s lack of a Jump shot, DaWhite Howard – David Lee, The Goods – Lamar Odom, and Veal – Brian Scalabrine. But the most B.A. nicknames in the Association are still Allen Iverson’s The Answer, Shawn Marion’s The Matrix, and LeBron James’ King James. And as homage to how spectacular of a player ‘Bron will be, all of us now have nicknames just for saying “present” at the dawn of the LeBron James era.  Apparently we are all witnesses.

Back to the co-MVP award… Did anybody else get goose bumps seeing Kobe and Shaq hoist a trophy together over their heads? Standing side by side again as winners, those two were nostalgia personified for Laker fans everywhere. No matter which team or players you root for, you have to give pause and respect to one of the greatest tandems in sports history.

Shaq’s playing days won’t be soon forgotten by the game of basketball or by the world of sports. And let’s not overlook his titanic impact on the music and film industries with critically acclaimed albums such as You Can’t Stop the Reign and Oscar-contenders such as Kazaam. Perhaps he’ll rediscover those endeavors, continue business ventures, serve and protect as a police officer, seek political office, or just linger as a sports analyst or special commentator. But once he hangs up those size 23 sneaks, the game just won’t be the same. For so long, his childish smile and contagious enthusiasm buttressed by his lioning dominance on the court solidified him as the most instantly charismatic personality in sports. We’ll miss him as he passes the baton of likeability to LeBron. But as King James is still a work in progress to achieve that ultimate strata of magnetism, we’ll have to make do with his SNL hostings, Dwight Howard’s one-trick-ponied Soulja Boy dance, and Jeff Van Gundy.