NBA Commissioner David Stern sent out an edict (more of a request) to his players this week in which he said he wants guns left at home. Huh?
What brought this about was an incident this month involving several Indiana Pacers. Seems these nice upstanding young men were at a titty bar until about 3am, got into some sort of an argument, and decided to take matters into their own hands. Of course, the argument followed them to the parking lot where their posse, weed (which belonged to the posse, wink, wink) and guns happened to be. Shots were fired, blah, blah, blah.
I'm not implying all NBA players love titty bars, guns, weed and their posses. But there is a lot of this shit going on. How does this relate to the average Joe on the street, or more importantly, me?
Well, on a personal note, I love titties, but I avoid titty bars. In the deep south, they're referred to as "titty flops", because the titties flop. You leave one and your drunk, broke and horny. Trust me, I don't need their help in any of these three areas.
I don't own a gun, because I'd probably shoot every dumb fuck in traffic. Keep pulling out in front of me and I'll get a gun, dumbshit.
Weed isn't a big deal to me. I'd rather hang with a stoner than a drunk, if you must know the truth. Drunks get aggressive and annoy me. Stoners sit on the couch and watch Star Trek for hours at a time.
And finally, I have friends. I don't call them my posse and I don't like moochers, which is what an NBA posse is.
Stern, the poor shit, has to put up with this crap all the time. When was the last time you heard of the NFL or MLB commissioner asking their players not to pack heat? Never, because it doesn't happen.
Shit, I need a shiv.