Thank God the Game Is Saturday and Cyber Bullies Ain't Our Problem!
-
So this existential, electro-chemical basketball doubt flashes through my neuropasta: OMG, its Thursday afternoon! Is KU playing TCU tonight, instead of Saturday afternoon at 1 PM Central Daylight Sun Dial Time? Is this one of those weird Thursday night games we do for the gamblers and I’ve forgotten about it?
I’m ancient. So far around the bend I’m in the home stretch to Heavens Gate, Anti-Wyoming. I’m lucky if I can remember which drawer in the chifforobe has the Ex-Officio synthetic briefs I’ve migrated to and which has the retro tech cotton tubes covering up the old black alligator skinned box with my grandfathers gold cuff links and stick pin I cherish but never look at. i’m getting almost as old as he was when he was old. But even death cannot distract me from missing a game.
My palms sweat at the key board. You see: I am committed to doing a bunch of stuff with the significant other tonight thinking the game isn’t till Saturday. So if it is? OMG! What have I done?! I’ve already told her I had eatten some bad crab meat last week to get out of duties that would have kept me from another recent game I forgot the tip off time for. She won’t believe another lie this soon. Hell, she didn’t buy the last one.
So real quick I click on a KU hoops site I used to work out at, because I recall they used to post the date and time of the next game at the top of their page, which I wish KUBuckets did but can understand why it doesn’t.
Tap, tap, tap. Click.
Window boing.
Ahh!
All the tension goes out of me, like it does when once every six months I actually do look under the tube socks to make sure the old cuff links are still there–still as gold as ever.
The game really is Saturday. I don’t have to start lying about not feeling good to get out of these commitments, so I can watch the game. I can just get the duty out of the way and be ready for Saturday. Thank god for micro favors!
But then I see a headline criticizing (bullying?) cyber bullies for bullying (criticizing?) The Designer after the Bill Self circulatory stresser–the 1 point, hair plug killer loss to West Virginia in Hugginsville aka Morgantown.
Why, I wonder, are pro journos critting their own cyber bullies? Why don’t they just give them the flipping boot?
And are cyber bullies really getting that bad out their in the commercial iGyms I’m not moving words in anymore, because of KUBuckets.com aka our eeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini, net invisible, bully free iLocker Room full of stinking retro virtual Bikes hanging humid in the iLockers of the mind?
My first impulse is curiosity. How bad can this cyber bullying of The Designer really be? Can it be worse than what The Designer catches at practice, or what he hears when he misses an assignment running by Self in a loss? Or the trash he hears out on the shellac from long and strongs? Or what his mom and dad say, when he drops laundry and stays out late with his pals on the holidays (like I used to back in another century, when dead persons voted and eVoting machines didn’t just have backdoors to Excel spread sheets for operators to just key in another zero or two to, by god, in the old days you had register the dead people and stuff the ballot box one at a time)? Anything is possible, I suppose. The latest Western renaissance is at least late in a late Baroque phase, and some say there are hints of some spent twilight creeping in to the fresco al a Photoshop.
I start to click on some threads to see how bad it is out there in answer-the-marketing-questions-or-don’t-get-your-Jones phase space?
But then I think: why click at all? WTF do I care about pro journos critting their own cyber bullies and about cyber bullies brain dead posts that trigger the critting? I mean, I still really enjoy it when those wonderful pro journos are doing their thingz about the gamez, and the playuhz, but, well, like I sez, sometimes I can’t tell which drawer is which in the chifferobe, and, like, my own private atomic clock is clicking’ down, and, so, I REALLY ain’t got time for cyber bullies, or critting them either.
Ain’t my problem.
Ain’t on my iDocket.
Ain’t getting paid no pre-selected Presidents to put up with’em for clicks.
I’m just a sclerotic board rat trying to squeeze in a few more work outs before the final buzzer–before the big hard drive demagnetization.
I just wanna know when the next game is and read something intelligent, or funny, or authentic takes from someone like myself, only smarter, trying to get through another solar day, before the next clash of the titans in the valley of the shadow of Daisy Hill.
Don’t want me no cyber bullyz.
Just want to mind me my own monkey business and to type what I type and try to barter me some of what I know about the sacred wood for some of what others know about it in hopes of getting a little deeper insight into the greatest game ever invented a’fore I leave this mortal Cloud encompassing this oh so real and finite coil within.
Go ahead, you white jet MOFOs up their in the once saintly sky, spray your scuzz clouds, bounce your microwaves, and poison me a few games earlier than I would gone with out the atomized barium lung baths.
I just want me some dots and an iLocker Room to connect them in.
Here, I get me my dots without cyber bullies, and without pro journos critting the cyber bullies giving them head aches,
Props to @approxinfinity and @bskeet.
So help me, James.
-
@jaybate-1.0 Hi Jaybate, just came across this, but if must admit I am tired and need sleep before I try to digest this post.
RCJH
-
@jaybate-1.0 cyberBullies be beatdown burros born to bray, born to beef, bound and born to barf bullbits.
-
@jaybate-1.0 Basketball prose at its finest. Thanks Jaybate!
-
Wonderful pictures. Re-read the same and saw different ones. Reminds me of when I was first turned on to Kerouac. Thanks for writing.
-
I’ll take trash talking from other team fans, what makes my blood boil is when a supposed Jayhawk is trashing Perry, Jamari, Cliff, Brannen or anyone with the guts to be brave enough to play here and keep the streak going under the weight of all the great Jayhawks that have worn the uniform. People trashed a walk on, in Conner Teahan who red shirted and sat on the bench for four years to start several games as a Senior and be 4 for 4 from the three point stripe to help beat Mizzou in the last game of the Civil War.
-
@wrwlumpy “…last game of the Civil War.” Oooh, NICE!
-
@wrwlumpy thanks lump!!
