Life sucks without a decent Internet connection.
I haven't touched a keyboard in two weeks, much less written or read about basketball. Come to think of it, the only basketball-related activity I've participated in involved Celtics Blog's Steve Weinman kicking my ass in a game of full court five-on-five at the local recreation center. Balls.
I find it incredibly ironic that the enormous density of my daily worldwide information intake can be essentially erased by the absence of bold coloring in five little tiny bars in the upper right corner of my Macbook computer screen. This, of course, means that not only can I not receive information, but I cannot transmit information as well. As modestly as I can put this, though I may be perfectly capable of writing interesting entries, and though I own a 1700 dollar computer, my contribution to this blog can be completely nullified by the appearance of two seemingly harmless words: "Not Connected."
Imagine that. In the most technologically sound age in history to date, a lack of Internet connection can prove fatal to the job security of a perfectly functional human being. Talk about putting all the eggs into one basket. What if the Internet were to just stop working one day? It wouldn't necessarily be a victory for AI, as most Sci-Fi movies like to think, but it would indeed be an embarrassing loss for mankind.
If you doubt the power of the Internet, you may reference the crazy train of thought above. I'd never bore you with that kind of gibberish had I not been placed in such a difficult situation. Now, for my sake and for yours, I must move on to basketball.
Thankfully, I haven't missed much. Allen Iverson made some noise as a potential Rockets signee, but when you think of Daryl Morey's hypothetical list of players NOT to sign, A.I. figures to be included.
The one piece of information that I did happen to catch while I was disconnected came not from the Rockets, but instead from Los Angeles, where a certain someone just doesn't know when to shut up.
You've heard the phrase "hindsight is 20/20," in that we see people for who they really are only once they have left us. Ron Artest decided to open up his mouth this week, and while he may have thought that he was the one who saw things clearer from afar, it happens to be us Rockets fans who can now see what kind of person Ron is.
Here's the quote:
"Houston did me dirty. I can't wait til next year when we go to Houston. I'm not shooting. All defense. Somebody getting locked da [expletive] up."
Some people just aren't worth a rebuttal. Really, I could label Artest as a back-stabber and go into why he low-balled Houston and whatnot, but in all honesty, I don't think that was his intent here.
Ron is a competitor with a fiery attitude. Did you really think that he was going to leave without saying a "proper" goodbye? We've had this coming since the minute he signed with L.A.
Ron is not an NBA general manager, nor is he a statistical genius with a degree from M.I.T. To Ron, it makes absolutely no sense to pay Trevor Ariza, an athletic, efficient, young small forward, more money than an aging, washed up nutcase. Why? Because that nutcase is Ron Artest. No matter how close to finished the Rockets consider him to be, Ron will always look in the mirror and see a first-round draft pick and an All-Star. The dude has an ego. Big surprise.
What makes me giggle, however, is the statement that Ron made about not shooting. This is coming from a guy who did nothing but shoot (and poorly at that) during last year's playoffs. Did he suddenly realize how erratic his shooting stroke is? Why the change of heart? It's just more proof that Ron Artest is impossible to gauge as a person, as a teammate, and as a basketball player.
That's all I've got for now. As for later, I don't know much yet. College is definitely going to affect my schedule, but I'll be scrambling to buy NBA League Pass in time for the season. You may see less of me around here, but I won't be disappearing for good.
And for the record, I don't think I've ever used such a straightforward post title.