(Il)legal Disclaimer

"Illmatically I speak, with profess (confess one's faith in, or allegiance to)ngue in my cheek.
Nothing here is undated, or untimed; it's all legit and not a crime."

Blogger T-shirt; AmrBooty (not your Jon given name it's your Jmz given one), we need more. Lots more. Stock up on the Blogger gear while they got it. Otherwise, we make our own. Hyperwest + (High) Entropy + (High) Times = Nudream (and hopefully, a side of Salsbury Steak). Why find him? We can cook him up right now -- who's hungry? For our taste, for our delight, for our own reading pace. Ameer(beta) wants to disappear? Well heck, we got Ameer(version alpha) right here.

Thanks (all three of you) for getting me outta the car, you know which one. Not the yellow Mini. When're you gonna paint it green anyway? Why bother, let's get a fleet of supercharged, turbo, Minis. Why paint when you can buy (as long as it's not a black and white. SHAMU!). Buying is quicker. No? Then we can walk, and drive, in style. Converse and Mini. Why have it any other way? Play the iPod game? Random/Shuffle? Nah. Let's play the Apple/Mac/iPhone LIFE-style.

Thanks S.Jobs! For giving us a job (that we like). Thanks Mr Gates, for opening the gates (to the vault). Thanks Google, for connecting us all (and making it so damn hard to get into the company, that we never tried. Your loss Sergei). Got a question? Google it.

The Answer isn't AI (even though he should be for Carmelo). It's the question you type into Google that makes all the difference, right? We knew that. Right (my)Space Cole Trickle?

*Eeeert.*

I understand why you did what you had to do. I understand. Now, it's my job, as your friends (and brothers?) to tell you why I did what I did. Just give me your attention, your silence, and your stress free carefree Lawnchairs in the Garage attitude. We can get Dave's Son back. Even though he's now Sage's Daddy. We need him. Don't we? Funky Rooster; Funktion on three. One Two. Three.

"CHAY with a guage and AMER with a nine
HEADING for the chump BY THE DOOR (THREATENING TO LEAVE)
The chump acting ill because they're so full of (IMAGINARY) 9-1-1 PHONE CALLS
Gunshots rang out like a bell (IN MY HEAD)
I grabbed my WRONG BAG (VY'S?) AND all I heard were shells
Falling on the concrete real fast (WHERE'S MYLNE?)
Jumped in THEIR car, COULDN'T slam on the gas (I WAS IN THE BACK!!!)
Bumper to bumper the avenue's packed (OR IT WAS TOTALLY EMPTY, EXCEPT FOR ONE CAR)
I'm trying to get away before the jackers jack
Police on the scene you know what I mean
They passed me up confronted ME ABOUT all the dope fiends
If there was a problem yo I KNOW YOU GUYS (aka THE 3 WISE MEN) WILL solve it
Check out the hook while my DJ (PANDORA.COM) revolves it"

Ice Ice. Baby.

Tell G-MO. If you have to. Otherwise, he knows. Even if he's a hated Lakers fan. Larry Bird is the truth. The Celtics just had too much karma in the 50s-60s not to have it turn around on them. Still, 16 championships and one more in the barrel (metaphorically speaking). Len Bias, Reggie Lewis, Tim Duncan, Chauncey Billups, even Ron Mercer?! You were ours -- instead we got E.Monstrosity and AC Earl (not Green). Bruce Bowen; sucks to see you on the Spurs. Rick Pitino didn't know.

Just like our original Fox (Rick not Jamie Foxx). Bill Simmons; someone hire him to be GM. Danny A, loved you, you were underrated like Deion, but you suck man. Luke Walton; you played in SD, you played against Babbs, your dad loves the '86 team. How can you be helping the Lakers; and B(r)OKE BRYANT?!?!?! Sheesh. Up is down and down is up. TD, you were supposed to be wearing the green and white. But you ended up swimming to the wrong shore -- it's a long trip trip, I know.

Against all odds. But I guess, it's okay. Gerald Green (money, even with digits missing). Al Jefferson (moving on up!). RaJON Rondo. We'll even take Tony Allen and Count Bassie -- if we have to. Gomes? You're our 8th man, sorry. Scalagreeny? You rich guy. You're my towel boy. PP? You were alwasy hte TRUTH. Keep shimmying, keep your head up. What doesn't hurt/stab/kill you, makes you that much better/greater. Number 34, raise it to the roof. Right between McHale and Bird; right where you belong. Even if your game is hard to watch. I'd STILL trade for you (and Air Jersey, maybe Ridnour + Camby?) even if I have to give up the King, the LB23. He's lost the (passing) touch. I know you got it PP. Just keep piercing through. But don't let'em puncture you.

Greg Oden (Chief) or Kevin Durant/Garnett (is #21 available? check [way] upstairs). See you next year -- I hope. Championship before the next president (2008)? Say hey. Or better yet. Say, "And here's tonight's starting lineup, your BOSTON CELTICS, the 2008, 2009, 2010 NBA champions......."

Red Auerbach, RIP. They tried to dance on your parquet. You stopped it. Smoke on Red; smoke on. Pour a little liquor. But make sure someone cleans it up. Because when I see the parquet live for the first time, I'm going to be testing the space between with four quarters; not wiping up your shit/spills. Thanks.

The clover is luck. Four (mythical) leaves, 4 elements. You see? Danny, you see? Larry does (MVP, Coach of the Year, The Living Legend, The Steal, etc). He always saw. And now, DJ's gone, so now he sees alone. The Birdman, finally, lost not his wings (which he always had), but now; he lost his wind.

But see, he knows that one day, you, Kevin, RP (get off the kung fu and weed man), and Reggie Lew; can get that other championship (plus twenty more). And if we have to; trade someone for Wildcat Luke. Anyone.

"Luke, I am your father; go play for the Celtics." Throw it down big man, throw it down.