... best believe I'd work on nothing but this kind of thing all day:

I'm sure I'm the nine-billionth blogger to embed this particular video, but as the Mash Out Posse hold a permanent number-one seed in my Bracket of Everything, I felt it had to be done.

Meanwhile: I'm still cooking up a master plan. 50 Cent's pre-shooting masterpiece "Your Life's On the Line," mashed up with some old-school Law and Order action. If any of you skillets has the wherewithal to make this happen, holler at your boy.

That's me, babbling about the radio controls, mere minutes after I'd given the SmartCar's speakers a workout with the mp3 of "Praying for Time" that I carry with me at all times, in case this sort of opportunity presents itself.

I scooped the Sporting News, and the Cleveland Scene! Latecomers to the genius of Mr. West, both! And not a K-Dubs shout-out to be found, from either ... For shame.

(I know: no one's really surprised to learn that the Scene is behind the times on something. "Breaking! Art Modell is an asshole!" "Some dudes like fat chicks!" Riveting, truly. Plus I already scooped the HELL out of them on The Kickdrums ...)

It does hurt me a little to make respectable journalists (or even Sarah Fenske) look bad. So in the spirit of consolation, I offer the following:

1. Props to Ye Olde Pee Dee, for their their fine early discussion of Delonte's magical growth spurts (apparently, calf raises and PB&J are the key); and

2. This keen "insight" gleaned from last night's Game 1, guaranteed to surprise absolutely no one: Mike Brown is a lousy coach.

No need to thank me, skillets. Seriously.

With apologies to Bill Simmons: I have very few rules in life, but this is one of them. Any time a heretofore-unkown R&B singer introduces me to a major advance in the field of relationship forensics

in the same weekend that the Cavs win on a clutch shot by a nearly-unknown LeBronninite,

leading me to unearth the unmitigated philosophical genius of Delonte West,

I have to write a blog entry about it. These things, as a wise man once said, can no longer be ignored.

Some things to ponder while we await tipoff on Game 5:

1. I think we can all agree that Shaggy's 2000 summer jam "It Wasn't Me" ushered in the new century by forecasting major trends in both political strategy and media theory. Senior administration officials, Swift Boat Veterans, and Rik Rok all agree: lie often, and lie confidently, until the lie becomes the truth. So is Shaggy more like the Rupert Murdoch of his time, or the Karl Rove? And what does that make our girl Riskay? Patrick Fitzgerald? Ken Starr?

2. Will taunting LeBron in a "mocking baby voice" cause him to put up 75 points, or merely 50? And which beat will Jay-Z choose for his Brendon Haywood diss track? (I'm keeping my fingers crossed for this one, because Dockers just reminded me that it rules, and because "you puny protozoa" would be even more hilarious, in this context.)

3. Can a man really drive his "drop-top Hummer" "butt nekkid," if he keeps his "ankle socks," his "knee-high Chuck Taylors," and his headband on?

4. There is no way Delonte West actually owns a horse, right?

A hundred things in that clip slay me, for real ... but look for this one on our inaugural line of kentertainment t-shirts (and headbands): "My freelance may seem crazy to other people." Word.

It's Cavs/Wizards, III: A Tradition of Excellence*!

To answer your questions, following a thrilling Game 2 blowout:

1. If LeBron James is Jay-Z and DeShawn Stevenson is Soulja Boy, then DJ is ... uh, Fatlip, maybe?

2. Yes, I am *very much* looking forward to losing another playoff series to Boston this month. Why wouldn't I be? (On a related note: I don't know for sure that pink KG jerseys are on sale, or even if they are an actual thing that exists, but I look forward to getting heckled by a USF student wearing one --- just as soon as the Celtics have won enough games to turn my local pub back into the Pig and Masshole.)

Happy Patriots Day, everyone!

* = excellent basketball neither guaranteed nor implied. Excellent entertainment, definitely.

I own four (4!) Killers CDs, including both studio albums, the official rarities comp, and a homemade collection of rare tracks ... and zero Joy Division records. This was clearly an oversight on my part.

People, people: see Control. See it as soon as you possibly can. I am not even halfway kidding about this.

--K

P.S. Long overdue shout-out: Dan and Deb are back in the U.S. and A. They are still completely awesome.

I'm sure there is some way in which this run is unprecedented. Since I moved to S.F., it's been: Ohio State basketball. Ohio State football. Cavs basketball. And now Indians baseball. All demolished in ignominious fashion, late in the playoffs. Each one re-breaking my beef-weakened Midwestern heart.

It's getting super-tiring trying to figure out new things to blame for each of these losses, but I'll give it a quick shot for old times sake. For the Indians collapse, I blame these guys:

That just can't be good karma.

Overheard (okay, spoken by me) at the Pig & Whistle last night:

"Hey, Adrienne, look at that. Some idiot injured himself arguing with an umpire! Who is that, anyway? It's a pretty nondescript white uniform, and I can't tell from the number ..."

"Oh, right. Of course it's Milton Bradley ..."

(I'll include the YouTube embed, but props to the guy who uploaded the clip to AOL under the amazing title: "Milton Bradley's Career In a Nutshell: Gets On Base, Argues, Gets Hurt." Word.)

Elsewhere in Cleveland Sports: the Indians made the playoffs without the help of the board game OR the breakfast cereal,* and the Browns cashed in their monthly entitlement to a Loss By Means of a Rule You Didn't Know Existed Until Minutes Ago But Now Think Should Be Reversed (TM). So ... there's that.

Postseason, baby! Go Tribe!!

--K

* = Though you might make an argument for the potential profitability of "Asdrubal O's." They're Asdrubal-icious!

Somewhere in between screening robot tragedies with hipsters and begging my tech guru to fix the engine on this here jalopy (1), I realized that I was letting one horrible injustice go unremedied:

Quoth cmiller: "I can't believe ... this exists. And that nobody's talking about it." So true.

Counting YouTube commenters, this makes 6 of us talking now. For the record, I agree with the dude that posted it: "this is why [Kells] is the king."

--K

(1) = an authoring software quirk that excluded me, and me alone, from the site. Only at kentertaiment ...

Someone has actually reached this page by means of a search for "Filliam H. Muffman fanfiction." Um ... you guys knew that was a joke, right? Right?

--K

(Yes, I DO know that the ol' post-about-a-wacky-referrers-log-item is the last refuge of the lazy blogger. Thank you for mentioning! Seriously: apologies for the recent doldrums. It's just that it's the end of a lease term, and we've been consumed by apartment hunting. But we move in to our new place very soon, and I just KNOW something interesting has been happening lately with the world's sea creatures ...)