All Over The Place

I didn’t catch last night’s Boston Celtics Milwaukee Bucks game, but judging from this section lifted directly from the online edition of the AP recap, things were pretty crazy.

Boston head coach Doc Rivers called the game "stinky."

"We cut our own self in the throat," [Boston forward Paul] Pierce said. "Things didn't go our way, and then we really couldn't stop the bleeding."

I’ve heard the cliché shot ourselves in the foot before many times, but “we cut our own self in the throat?” That sounds really graphic and not at all sports related. I imagine that would indeed cause uncontrollable bleeding and perhaps cause many onlookers to vomit out of disgust perhaps accounting for the “stinky” quality of the game that coach Rivers mentioned. I guess I just find it funny that Doc Rivers didn’t say that the game “stunk” or that the Celtics stunk up the joint. He just said the game was “stinky.” Plain and simple, “stinky.” Maybe that’s not really that funny, but for some reason right now to me it is.

Imagine the post game press conference

Reporter: Coach, talk to us a little bit about what happened out there tonight?

Doc: It was just a stinky game. Period. Stinky offensive effort, stinky on d, we were just a stinky team tonight.

I doubt that’s how it went down, but I’ll pretend it is cause it makes me chuckle.

Chuckles are somewhat unpopular gummy candies. (What in the seamless segue is going on here?) Giggles were marginally successful Oreo cookie knock-offs with one chocolate cookie side and one vanilla cookie side sandwiching the crème filling. I think both of these treats failed to make as big of a splash as possible due to their reserved names. I mean chuckling is a fine time and the schoolgirl in all of us likes to giggle every now and again, but a confection called Sidesplitters or Pantwetters would probably fly off of the shelves. I don’t know how many junk food purveyors peruse this site, but if that happens to be you, I’d advise you to cash in on this big money idea. As long as your taking my advice, I think Sidesplitters include encrusted caramel bits somehow and Pantwetters are marshmallow-esque of sorts.

The New York Times recently ran an article about the possibility that people suffering from brain damage who appear unresponsive may be able to process what is going on around them even though they cannot indicate that they are aware of it. The implication of the article is that these people who we’ve assumed are completely brain dead, may actually be able to hear and see what’s going on to an extent. Talk about a helplessly frustrating predicament. It reminds me of the classic book Sylvester and the Magic Pebble when Sylvester foolishly wishes himself into being a rock to avoid a lion or something and he ends up staying a rock for a year until his parents picnic up against the rock he’s become and while sitting on the magic pebble they wish he would appear and he does. Perhaps this new research will lead to some happy endings for brain damaged patients along the lines of Sylvester’s joyous reunion with his parents. Here’s hoping so.

(It’s quite possible that I misunderstood the times article, but I think the analogy is a fitting one, and if anyone has children or little nieces and nephews, cousins etc. I suggest buying them the book Sylvester and the Magic Pebble. It’s a valuable lesson about wishing you were a rock. One that ought not be missed.)

Have yourself a whale of an Ash Wednesday.