Sweet Sixteen

Don't break out the cake with 16 candles yet, but labor and management spent a Long (Duk Dong) 16 hours meeting Tuesday, on the 110th day of the lockout, co-existing with the aid of George Cohen, a federal mediator. We assume the time was well-spent; that players and owners discussed dividing the league's revenue 50-50 and didn't go catch a midnight screening of 50/50*. If we learned anything from My Super Sweet 16 (besides that being wealthy and white is every bit as wonderful as we imagined - the only thing better is also owning an NBA team), it's that the number 16 signifies defiant demands and bratty behavior. We think the talks transpired thusly:

Players: We want a pony.

Owners: We already gave you a pony.

Players: No, that's a miniature horse. We want a pony!

Owners: Oh. Well, what's the difference?

Players: GIVE US OUR PONY!

Owners: Now, hold on. A pony is a big responsibility. Do you promise to take care of it?

Players: Yes.

Owners: Will you feed it and clean out its stall?

Players (impatiently): Yes, yes.

Owners: And you'll do this using your own money?

Players (shocked): What?!

Owners: The money out of your allowance that we give you.

Players: I hate you! This is the worst lockout EVER!

(Players storm off)

Mediator (wistfully, to Owners): They grow up so fast, don't they?

Owners: Yes, they grow absurdly fast and abnormally tall. That's why they play pro basketball.

Mediator: You realize this lockout is going to leave fans more depressed than Jerry West, right?

Owners (snidely): They can always turn to hockey. Hahahaha!

Mediator (somberly): You heartless sons of bitches.

We wonder: were there more shaved heads in the movie or in the negotiating room?