recognize

So I don't really feel that thankful this year. I know I should, but I don't.

I'm thankful my pops is still breathing air and telling stories, but I am angry he's had to suffer through such a painful and fucked up year.

I'm thankful my home life is peaceful and satisfying, but I am pissed off that my 65 hour a week job keeps me from getting much of a chance to enjoy it.

I'm thankful I can still play basketball, but I am depressed by how bad I have gotten at it.

I'm thankful that I have a slick lookin' iPhone, but I am irritated by the numerous ways in which it sucks.

I'm thankful that I finally got to grow a moustache, but i am disappointed by the fact that I had to remove it before it became a man.

One thing I am unreservedly thankful for is that I am now the official reigning champ of the punching game we have at work. I hit that thing with an 889 the other night, breaking the year-old record of 888. Then a few minutes later, I socked it with an 890. To get an idea of what an 890 is, it is estimated that Mike Tyson's most devastating knockout punch ever would have registered merely an 862 on our game.

So that feels pretty good.

I think if I ever get stinking rich, like at least 80 million in the bank, I will commission a miniaturized reproduction of the famous Larry Johnson-Alonzo Mourning fistfight from the '98 playoffs. It would have little figurines of all the key participants and a perfect little Madison Square Garden court. Of course, the centerpiece would be the Alonzo Mourning figure, complete with Jeff Van Gundy clinging to his leg:

You could come over and we could look at it whenever we wanted.

I will also give you ten dollars if you can dig up Gus Johnson's call of that fight, in which he described Van Gundy as "a little warrior."

Man, remember when the Knicks were relevant?