Before you go judging me, let me say this: I am not a Minnesota Timberwolves fan. I don’t follow the Timberwolves, could care less whether they succeed in the NBA, and don’t usually absorb myself in their personnel issues.
But this is different. This involves a kid who made a stupid decision that screwed over America. Not just the Timberwolves. Not just the state of Minnesota. The United States of America.
If you happen to be American and love your country, then you should find it in your heart to hate Ricky Rubio. It’s patriotism.
Hating Ricky Rubio should be synonymous with fireworks on the Fourth of July, watermelon at summer picnics, and turkey at Thanksgiving. It should be second nature to all of us who stand and put our hands over our hearts when The Star Spangled Banner plays.
Continue reading Ricky Rubio Is A Punk-Ass Bitch That Hates America
Unless you happen to be the most punch-drunk Gonzaga Bulldogs fan around, it’s easy to hate Adam Morrison.
But I need to know who the scrub on the Cavs’ bench was who, immediately after Lebron knocked down the game-winning three, stood up, made the “count it” motion with his hands, and started walking like a pimp towards the screaming, yelling, insane mass of teammates that was jumping up and down at midcourt.
Needless to say they’ll find some way to screw this up.
This 
Ron Artest’s greatest enemy is himself. The only person who can take the man out of a ballgame, it seems, is Ron Artest. Possessing a manic personality that is as volatile as it is mercurial — one minute smiling, the next minute snarling — the Houston Rockets forward is an enigma that is equal parts blessed and cursed at precisely the same time.