Decertifiably Crazy

The NBA now stands for Needless Blood-sucking Attorneys*. The players' union suing the league is about as smart a strategy as stealing 7'6" Shawn Bradley's bicycle^.

Fitting, since the NBA season is in jeopardy, that Chris Paul went on Family Feud. Survey says: they stunk. The wheel of fortune did not spin his way and if the lockout drags on, players considering going on that game show might not be able to afford to buy a vowel. The fear factor of a lost season is increasing every day and we'd hate to see Joe Johnson embarrassing himself for a few grand in front of Joe Rogan (then again, we hate to see Joe Rogan at all). Something else for NBA players to consider is that most can't fit comfortably in the Cash Cab.

Our idea for a game show is: Who Wants to be a Millionaire, Again? It's either that or The Mark Price is Right.

*They're like vampires - they speak in archaic terms, have heavily-gelled hair and under no circumstances should you let them into your house.

^ Mitt Romney's just happy a Mormon is in the news.

Boomshakalockout!

If you were a youngster growing up in the '90s, regardless of whether you cared about the NBA, you were captivated by the 2-on-2 basketball arcade game, NBA Jam*, Midway's smashing, successful sequel to Arch Rivals. Beyond the sheer simplicity of its pick-up-and-play style, the appeal for hoops fans was the official license from the league to use the real teams' names, as well as the revolutionary incorporation of digitized faces of actual players (except Michael Jordan, who, to this day, is still an obstinate dick - only about the lockout, not his video game likeness). For the first time, it felt like you were controlling your favorite stars and, even more thrilling, inducing them to leap 30-feet into the air to execute a 360-helicopter jam or forcefully shove a foe down at half court to jar the ball loose, acts either impossible or illegal in real life.

Even though it's an unrealistic simulation - or precisely for that very reason - 1993's NBA Jam still ranks as one of the best basketball games ever created (sorry, Slam City with Scottie Pippen). Maybe it's our fondness for it, that causes us to find this work stoppage-inspired parody so hilarious. Like a meticulous musician, we can never have enough Jam sessions.

*Chances are, you were also captivated by parachute pants and sneakers that you could inflate.

Getting Over the Hump(hries)

On Halloween, Kris Humphries learned he married a witch. His inadvisable marriage to Kim Kardashian lasted a scant 72 days before she filed for divorce, which was just slightly more time than the E! special on their nuptials aired for. There are probably wedding presents she hadn't even opened yet.

You might as well go ahead and eat that saved piece of cake in the freezer, Kris. At least the dessert, unlike your wife, is sweet and has layers. Enjoy the treat because unfortunately, you got tricked.

Here's a fun fact: As of October 31, the lockout had lasted 51 more days than their matrimony - or, as Kim spells it, "matrimoney."

Hershey's Disses

This is the only Skor NBA supporters will be seeing for some time.

Some jokes for Halloween. You don't need taffy to be laffy.

Q: How is Billy Hunter similar to zombies?

A: They both need brains!

Q: What do David Stern and vampires have in common?

A: They both suck!

Q: What is alike about NBA players and mummies?

A: They're both wrapped up in themselves!

Q: What history do witches and NBA fans share?

A: They've both been burned unfairly!

Q: How is the lockout like licorice?

A: It leaves a bad taste in your mouth!

Q: How is the NBA like a ghost?

A: They both can't be seen!

Two Weeks Noticed

It's going to be November to not remember in the NBA because no games will be played. The commissioner and magician-in-training is expected today to make another two weeks worth of games disappear, forfeiting a fortnight for a second time. Instead of sawing a woman in half, he's performing the trick on the schedule, but unlike the lady, we can't be assured that the regular season will be put back together. David Stern is no David Blaine. He's much closer to Gob Bluth*.

If Stern keeps removing two weeks of hoops at a time, we can put two and two together to deduce that there won't be basketball in 2011 - and likely beyond. Hocus-pocus, both sides have lost focus and soon - poof - their popularity will vanish faster than Criss Angel's.

*Maybe management should seek out the banana stand. There's always money in the banana stand.

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?

Appetite for Self-Destruction

There's a "gulf" war in the NBA. David Stern casually canceled the first two weeks of the season like it was The Playboy Club. The move eliminates 100 games from the schedule, all but assuring that a full season's slate of games is now out of the question for the second time in league history. "We just have a gulf that separates us [management and labor]," Stern said, adding that axing more games is likely. The first cut probably won't be the deepest, disappointing Cat Stevens as well as the Bobcats.

82 is the number of games each team plays. 82 is also the atomic weight of lead, the heavy metal the league is now sinking like into a gulf. Speaking of elements, there is an element of conspiracy when players association executive director Billy Hunter flippantly said about games being sloppily deleted at the last minute like they were porn files on your office computer, "I'm convinced that this is all just part of the plan." Accusing the owners and commissioner of wanting to lose games as a negotiating ploy doesn't set a civil tone. Maybe Hunter should watch How to be a Gentleman. Wait, that's been cancelled, too.*

Stern went on to say, "with every day that goes by, we need to look at further reductions in what's left of the season." It sounds like a Guns N' Roses guitarist won't be the only guy nicknamed Slash when Stern's through. Except, unlike the band, we won't be welcomed to the jungle because the NBA doesn't have fun or - for the moment - games.

*Players without contracts can't even sit around and watch Free Agents, another fall TV victim.