Ok, I feel like I’ve been shanked in both sides of my mouth. Yeah, I woke up at 5 in the morning in agonizing pain from my wisdom teeth removal on Friday. So guess what I’ve decided to bust out? An open letter, this is one I’ve been looking forward to for a very, very long time.

Dear Adam Morrison

First off let me just preface this by saying that you might want to get your pacifier, bib, and get in your Earl Boykins booster chair because this one will probably require some rehabilitation you mullet wearing trailer park moron. (I’m trying to do this one without swearing). Ok fuck that, you mullet wearing trailer park fucking douchebag!

There, now let’s get rolling.

For starters, I would like to address the commercial that you did for ESPN prior to the 2006 NBA draft. It showed you on a basketball court, talking about some other shit that I really don’t remember, but the one thing that I do remember is the following…”Yeah I cried, so what?” You also went on to say that you would do it again. You want to know what the so what is?

THE GAME WASN’T OVER!
THE GAME WASN’T OVER!

I remember watching it vividly as I had picked UCLA to win the National Championship. I’s sitting in the living room comp on the desktop and watching the game on the black and white (Yeah, we still have one of those) that was atop the dresser next to the fruit bowl. UCLA was coming back, and once they did, I was jumping for fucking joy at the thought of them possibly getting closer to fulfilling my late 8 AM change right before the deadline for tournament pick em. Once they took the lead…You started crying.

AND YOUR TEAM STILL HAD A CHANCE TO WIN THE GODDAMN GAME! Ok, I can remember a particular instance in my childhood of basketball and where I cried. Only time I ever did. We both had great defensive team and shut the other team down to 15 points and 13 points (20 minute game). The reason I was crying was because the coach’s kid got to take three, yes three, three point shots at the beginning of the game and that probably cost us the game. However, I cried on the way to the car after the trophies had been presented. NOT WITH TIME LEFT IN THE GODDAMN GAME! I HAVE MORE SENSE THAN YOU DO AT THE AGE OF 8 THAN YOU DO AS A COLLEGE PLAYER!

I even vividly remember you morons trying to put up a shot just so you could at least have a glimmer of hope, but the game was over. You destroyed your team’s confidence. You want me to tell you what I would have done if you were one of teammates and I saw you doing that shit? I would have smacked you so hard your jaw would have been hurting for the next week, and then asked the coach to bench your sorry ass because you don’t have the mental toughness, or the ability to remain clutch when your team needed you. You are the goddamn top scorer in the nation, but dead fucking last in mental toughness. It’s 90 percent mental dumbass, not NINEYWAHHHHHH! MOMMY THEY GOT A SHOT OFF WITH TIME LEFT OFF THE CLOCK, WHERE IS MY BOTTLE OF SHUT THE FUCK UP?!

You remember what happened when Duke had time left on the clock against Kentucky? End of argument, I win, you lose, go back to being breast fed. Maybe your hair and moustache will eventually be able to touch at the rate you are going.

Shit, valium and percocet are starting to kick in. Ok, gotta keep my viciousness going.

Then to top it all off, the people who run the Charlotte Bobcats decided that they wanted to take you with the third overall pick in the draft. Now, everybody is saying that this is a good move and ya da, da, da, da, da. Meanwhile, I’m screaming at the television throughout the draft that we should have taken one person…Brandon Motherfucking Roy. Wanna know why? He was a four year starter and was considered in the upper echelon of college players, but he wasn’t getting as much pub since he didn’t go to a big time school like you or JJ Redick did (Hey JJ, how’d those shanks and salads feel on Christmas by the way?). You know where JJ is now? On a team that has some sick offensive talent and soon to be the most dominant big man in the league, Dwight Howard…And you happen to show up in my fucking state.

Bloody brilliant

Hey Bickerstaff, I didn’t know you let Randy Moss’s once in a blue moon weed influence your decision making process.

Hey Jordan, I love you to death and you are the reason that I wanted to become a basketball player (Before I moved to New Jersey), but why the hell do you love this guy? I don’t give a damn if he can score and I don’t give a fuck if he’s big. Let him get pushed around a little bit and he’ll end up being somebody’s bitch each and every night he steps out onto the floor.

We have a big man already, he goes by the name of Emeka Okafur and recently the motherfucker went for 22 and 25! TWENTY FIVE REBOUNDS! Can you even count that high you imbecilic cockbag (Credit for word goes to an old boy of mine)?

You might have gone for 30 points and 6 rebounds yesterday (9 for 17 shooting by the way, nice effort jackass) but would you like to explain to the court what you did against the Los Angeles Lakers in a triple overtime game against them recently?

1 FOR 15!

IN 27 MINUTES!

You should be disowned from the team effectively immediately for that shitty performance.

Dammit, medicine is working better. Ok, come on, I can get through this.

You want me to tell you who our starting 5 should be? Aite, roll it! This is pending on health, but even then we have a backup point guard.

C- Emeka Okafur
PF- Sean May
SF- Gerald Wallace
SG- Raymond Felton
PG- Brevin Knight

Let me run down what all of these guys are capable of doing.

Emeka Okafur- He can get points, he can get rebounds, and he’s a pretty decent big man for somebody who is 6 feet 10 inches tall.

Sean May- In the amount of time he has been given on the floor, he has shown that he can rack up the points, boards, and be a good stats guy.

Gerald Wallace- I was able to get him in the 10th round of my fantasy league last year and the guy did not disappoint. He’s a freak of nature who can get you steals, points, rebounds, blocks, and a bunch of other shit. He recently dropped 40 and 14! That’s just ridiculous for anybody.

Raymond Felton- Assist guy and he can get the points, not to mention some steals.

Brevin Knight- The primary assists man, see steals as well. Shit this medicine works fast.

You need to be coming off the bench for maybe about 15 minutes per game, maybe 12 if we are lucky.

In conclusion, we should have taken somebody other than you. I swear if you cry after we lose another game, I will personally come up there now that I can drive a car on my own (Have for a while but don’t feel like driving two hours to Charlotte), and beat you senseless.

And in conclusion…LOSE THE MUSTACHE AND THE FUCKING MULLET!

Woody Paige, you are also one of my boys, but he will not be the next Larry Bird, I’m sorry. He will be the next Sam Bowie.

I know this one wasn’t epic all the way through, probably not even epic at all, but the medicine has worked and I’m back to a happy place.

The next person that I will get sometime before Thursday, since that is when school starts…TERRELL OWENS! THE SEQUEL WILL COME OUT!

However it will probably not get me any literary awards for excellence.

Happy New Years Motherfucker
Chris

Somebody take me out with a parting message to Adam Morrison.

Ashy Larry: YOU GOT OWNED BIATCH!

[HONK, HONK]