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TheRobe
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Name: Andrew
Gender: Male
Interests: I write. I watch movies. I whittle. I whine. I wear clothes. Sometimes. I wax philosophical. I wax on. I wax off. I wonder. I wander. I pay taxes. I sharpen axes. I occasionally eat at Rax's. I sing out loud. I pray out loud. I talk to myself, but not just myself. I'm optimistic and I can't help it. I've never known an optomitrist, or how to spell optomitrist, so if I ever knew one, and had to write him a letter, I would be in trouble. If I see a penny, nickel or dime on the ground I won't even slow, but if I see a quarter I'm going for it. That's about it.
Plus I do other stuff.
Plus I don't actually whittle.
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  HomersHungry
Member Since:
3/16/2004
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| Yesterday morning I was taking a shower, trying to wake up, singing a little diddy I wrote while I shampooed my hair:
I'm the coolest person
To ever take a shower
If you don't believe me
Just ask Bill Cower
And things were going good. I had coffee brewing. I was happy with my song. And then, suddenly, without warning, and for no reason whatsoever....
I started dry heaving. Awful, gut-wrenching dry heaves that doubled me over and twisted my stomach into knots. This went on for 15 minutes, with an occasional break every few minutes, just long enough for me to stand up straight and think, "What in the hell is going on?" And then, BAAAAAAAA! [wait, that's a sheep noise]. BUUUUUUUUUUUGH! GUUUUUUUUUUUUU! AAARRRRRRRRRRRGH! I guess they're tough to recreate in print form, but whatever, loud and disgusting sounds.
When it finally ended (having not puked at all, just dry-heaved), I gingerly rubbed my stomach and braced myself for more. But it was over. I stepped out of the shower and dried off, feeling weak and confused. I didn't know that my roommate Randy was awake and in the next room. I stepped out of the bathroom and he said, "Dude, what in the hell were you doing in there?"
I was dry-heaving. What else?
By the time I got to work I felt fine. Very bizarre. I blame Bill Cower.
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| I made up my own palindrome. It is dedicated to my good friend Ragusfo.... Ragusfo Edams, are macdad cameras made of sugar? | | |
| "That's right, interactive cable's gonna save the world."
What movie? | | |
| I'm coming out of Xanga hibernation to write an article to all those Iverson detractors.....
Since the Iverson trade, I have read every analysis I can find on who got the better deal. What shocks me the most is the amount of critics that call Iverson a has-been, a former great player way past his prime. Do they ever actually watch the NBA, or bother with statistics? It seems that all these past-his-prime arguments are based on nothing but the mistaken notion, and one that has been popularly for about four years, that “any day now” Iverson’s body will break down completely. After all, how can a guy that small take so many hits and keep playing at the same level? Honestly, I have no idea. But people forget that he is a freak of nature, a guy who could get completely hammered at a bar, smoke an entire pack of cigarettes, and get up the next day and score 35 points. (Let’s be honest, he probably HAS done this). Sure, Iverson has lost a little bit of his quickness, but it has been the kind of gradual decline experienced by most hall-of-fame caliber players . Let’s look at some numbers:
In 2005, Iverson’s last complete year in Philly, he averaged 33 ppg on 25.3 shot attempts. In 2006, playing 50 games for Denver, he averaged 26.3 ppg on 20.2 shot attempts. While he dropped 7 ppg, he also took 5 fewer shots per game. In 2007, he averaged 26.4 ppg while taking only 19 shots per game. So his scoring decrease occurred after his transition to Denver, where (fittingly so) he took over 5 shots less per game.
Also, an important factor to look at when examining a player’s scoring fluctuations, is how the rest of the league compares. This lets you better account for the small rule changes and mindset shifts that occur from season to season, and gives you a clearer picture of how a player is progressing. In 2005, at 33ppg, Iverson was 2nd in scoring behind Bryant’s 35.4, and ahead of Lebron’s 31.4. That’s three players averaging more than 30ppg. And Gilbert Arenas was damn close at 29.3. The next year, after taking 5 fewer shots per game, Iverson still wound up in 7th place with 26.3ppg, during a season when only one player, Kobe, managed to average over 30ppg. Finally, in 2007, Iverson was 3rd in scoring at 26.4 after further decreasing his shot attempts.
Iverson has also maintained over 7 apg for six years running now, and over the past 2 seasons has had two of his best field goal percentages.
When it comes down to it, last year Iverson was 3rd in the league in scoring at 26.4, 9th in assists at 7.1, 8th in steals at nearly 2 per game, and 1st in minutes at 41.8 per game! And this guy is supposed to be a has-been? There was only one other player last year who finished in the top ten in all four of those statistical categories, and his name was Lebron James. But who knows, maybe Lebron is past his prime, too.
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| For the past three days I've had the song "Everybody's working for the weekend" by Loverboy stuck in my head. I didn't hear it on the radio, nobody sang it.....it just came to me, without provocation, from the great beyond. At first I thought it was a gift from the Heavens. Picture me strolling around, bobbing my head to such a bizarre, kickass tune. The world was brighter, people were nicer, nothing could go wrong. EVERYBODY'S WORKING FOR THE WEEKEND! Yeah! But unfortunately for me, I didn't know ANY OTHER line from the song other than, "Everbody's working for the weekend." So I just kept singing that over and over and over again. After about 24 hours it started to wear on me. I was still bobbing my head, but out of compulsion. It was starting to feel more like a curse. Everything grew darker, people turned meaner. I started wondering, "Why the hell is everybody working for the weekend? These people should get a break every now and then!" Then last night at a wedding reception, I thought that if I talked to the DJ and requested the song, if I actually heard it and danced to it, it would break the curse. But it only intensified it. I saw a Twilight Zone episode once where a food critic was eating at this Chinese restaurant, and he kept eating and he kept eating until he was miserable and sick and puking. And he kept eating. Turns out he was in hell and didn't know it. Am I in hell? Because honestly, it makes sense that in hell everybody WOULD be working for the weekend. All that being said, the song does kick major ass! | | |
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