dr. doooom's answering machine

Hey hey hey whuddaya say. Oh yah you don’t exist, that’s cool, I can take it, or give it, or dish it out for the mailman to pick up at noon. It’s all irrelevant and there’s a refund policy posted on the frigerator.

This could be the last post ever. But I doubt it. But I don’t categorize it as an impossibility. Not to drama the sitch, but it’s all become quite obvious to moi as of late that the entity herein has hit a level of matterability in the low negative 800’s. and this ain’t golf kids, this ain’t something for your grandma’s babysitter to watch on the toob and wherewithal as to the baggy pants unification theory.

Lots of ishes could have led to this, but I regret nothing. Every tangent I flew into, whether it was Jim Aparo, the LA clippers, fake bruce lees, any and all of the above and the non included, were what made this this, and includes rationales for the by people who know what salsa should taste like argument, with which I wholeheartedly agree.

There will be some sobbing and gnashing of teeth, especially at the mansion of mr. Sterling, who doesn’t know it now, but is due a visit from the tooth fairy, nothing to do with said enterprise enveloping within a situation of which none are aware or care to become cognizant going on within said environs, but still I thought it warranted mentioning.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Posted 3:01 AM by Alfred

Well, I was correct, there was heartbreak in the desert tonite, but it didn’t belong to the people of phoenix nor their native suns. The chill at the marrow belonged solely to the second class citizens of the greater los angeles area and one lone gunman on a small yet vastly populated island in the middle of the pacific ocean.

As I sit here at the twilight, nay, the sundown, of what was arguably the greatest season in los angeles clipper history (at least the second best season, of that no argument can be made, I was alive yet unaware of my environs for buffalo’s 1976 swing) I feel a profane mix of pride and hope tinged with a sadness reserved for opportunities missed. This was LA’s series to lose, and lose it they did. But you have to, despite the pain of the cliché, give credit to the suns, who simply refused to be outplayed tonite, hitting everything that was even remotely open, assisted in no small part by what seemed LA’s poorest defensive effort of the series.

It’s just baffling the degree of hesitation combined with defensive confusion that the clips exhibitied this evening, but I’ll leave such discussions to the experts. What I will say is that despite the feeling of horror and letdown I feel at this moment, this was a hell of a run, and an unexpected one at that. Gracias to dunleavy, cassell, brand, mobley, maggette, the whole damn team, every last one of you, down to the equipment manager and the executive chef, for putting on a hell of a show to the clipper faithful.

The bandwagon may have filled up, and some will stay & some will depart, but there are a core group of us out here, the clipper nation, as we seem to have been dubbed, and we are strong, and we are patient, and we are ecstatic that you have finally chosen to provide us with the product we have so illogically waited for.

Monday, May 22, 2006

Posted 2:24 PM by Alfred

Game 7 tonight. As I’ve said repetitively, check the files, heartbreak in the desert, I said it before the Denver series, I said it before this series, when the playoff lineup was in place, I said, heartbreak in the desert, game 7, it was known, unknown to others, known to me, I prognosticated said ideologues with an accuracy better than that of nostre damus, and shit, save for a few mathematical errors, holmes could be right as well. Yup. Heartbreak in the desert for the suns, for their fans, for the gorilla, for cedric ceballos and his sad attempt at a Mohawk, for all who don’t understand that what was a team of density has discovered destiny, that the clips are going to go in there, take care of business, and then move on to texas to take on whoever emerges. From there, my skills at foreseeing the future end, I’m afraid. Of course I hope and yearn for clipper victory, but the crystal ball saw game 7 in phoenix and clipper glory, beyond that I predicted a matchup with dallas, but even that grows foggy. Either way, the trail leads to texas, and once you’re in the conference finals, well, hey, you’re in the conference finals, and any damn thing can happen. ‘specially when you’ve got sam cassell and the forbidden macadamia romp. Mahalo, aloha, arrividerci guido, etc.