justin adler, blog, buenos aires, bahia blanca, university of arizona, basketball, travel, paul mcpherson

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Monday and Tuesday


For the life of an unemployed recent college grad who decided it would be smart to move to the world's eighth most expensive city during our nation's worst economic crisis to date, Monday was about as good as it gets.

Like any other day I woke up before nine, just to give myself a feeling that something might get done before 11. Even though I really had nothing to do besides apply for jobs, it makes me feel slightly better about myself to not sleep in past 10 a.m.

At around noon I decided I'd had enough or perusing Craigslist and waiting for Deadspin to update so I decided to hit the streets.

I explored the Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co. Shop, which was quite fascinating. Then made it Premium Goods, which is a just silly streetwear store, but I finally got an answer as to who designed the "Brooklyn" logo that's on 9 million tees and hats in the city. The answer, or so I was told: Vinnie's Styles.

Then I journeyed through Red Hook to Ikea carrying a 24-inch steel rod from Lowes in my backpack Zelda style in case anyone wanted war. The steel rod was for a ceiling fan that my roommates and I bought a month ago, which we may or may not ever get around to actually installing.

I also stumbled upon this store selling this nasty jersey:


After a long trek I finally made it to the promised land and bought two $0.50 hot dogs. While consuming the dogs I listened to an amazing Fresh Air show with Charles Siebert, where he discussed his book The Wauchula Woods Accord. The book is about a chimpanzee retirement center where famous chimps who are trained for movies and television hang out after their carreers end. Listening to Siebert and Terry Gross discuss "humanzees" while eating two hot dogs was probably the highlight of my week and arguably month.

After touring Ikea I bought two more hot dogs and an icecream cone, then caught the free Ikea water taxi out of my way to Manhattan. But the ride was rather enjoyable.

Yesterday I did absolutely nothing besides draft half this blog and play two hours of basketball in the park. But my team did win twice and I threw one of the sickest passes in my life, so I felt like I kinda accomplished something.

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Basketball things:

In case you actually have a job and/or life and have not been following NBA summer league way too closely here is what you need to know:

Brandon Jennings second game stats: 23 points, 8 assists, 5 steals.

Brandon Jennings third game stats: 13 points, 14 assists, 7 steals.

The Bucks are 3-0.

Not that you should give a fuck but Chase Budinger dropped 25 in his second game. Fuck him.

Former Duck Maarty "Six a's short of Raaaaaaaandy" Leunen is on the Rockets roster even if his last name is spelt wrong on his jersey.

Even though T-Mac is now helping Darfur can we still hate him? Of course because T-Mac is still a bitch who never made the second round of the playoffs. /hate

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Too much

This new banner weirds me out and makes me feel uncomfortable. I hope it does not stay up for very long.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Blog marked up



Normally when I post a bunch of pictures the general reaction of my friends is "that was pretty gay," except in a more hateful tone. The only person who has ever said anything nice about my photos was the man who helped me find P-Mac, Marquitos, who told me they were "Buenas fotos." But for all I know that could have been Argentine sarcasm that I did not pick up.

Below are some photos, some are mine, some are not.

This is a photo from Hewes stop at the JM line. It was pouring rain and I was soaking wet, which made a 5-hour bus ride to Boston that much worse, but I liked this picture.

This photo was stolen from the open casting call for Phoenix-MC Willy Northpole's "Body Marked Up" music video. I thought for a minute on how I could describe such an incredible tattoo, but the comment below the picture on MySpace said it best, "Damb dat shit is fukn tite..." Indeed.


I've said this about others before, but Willy Northpole is the greatest human ever. Aside from DMX on rollerskates, Willy is the only person who can make me homesick. Even though my current city may have had a little to do with hip-hop and the local guys ain't too bad either, but they don't strike that same chord that Willy does. When Willy says "Arizona stand the fuck up" and rhymes about putting a du-rag on a cactus, it just means so much.

Since Fake Rick Reilly and Brandon Jennings are Twitter casualties, Willy Northpole is currently my favorite tweeter, with 140-character gems like:

YO NIGGAS HAVE YOU EVER HAD SEX WITH A GIRL AND SHE START CRYING THINKING ABOUT SOMETHN AINT THAT THE WORSE SHIT i just keep going lol

I LET ALOT CHICKS GO THAT a fuck nigga would probably marry.. with me shit just gotta be right fuck looks i mean she has to be cute but ...

SO IF YOU HAD THE NUMBER CHICK IN THE ASS WAIST, FINE BREADED UP OPRAH STATUS BUT SHE HAD ONE TITTY LOL ill hold that titty with pride!lol
No I have not listened to all of Willy's new cd and I probably never will, it's just that good.

This is a photo I took off my roof of some weird clouds.

This is an old photo from SLAM that makes me hate LeBron James.

This is where I spent the 4th of July. Rhode Island is the truth.


Some nice views.


I don't really drink hard liquor, but it was essential to the picture.


Flipside views


This photo makes me love Melo, but hate myself for having all this time on my hands and still not watching every episode of The Wire.

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

What up dun?!

For the 520th time I apologize for the inconsistency in my updating of this blog. There has not been too much excitement since the draft day/sad day 2009. I now just hang out a lot more and some times I'll take long walks to Queensbridge to sit on a bench that Ron Artest or Nasir Jones may have sat on. Then I'll spend an hour or so wondering what number Ron Ron will wear for the Lakers.

That was yesterday.

Then today goofy pictures of Tru Warier rocking #37 came out. I can't find an official source, but Wikipedia claims Ron is wearing #37 in honor of Michael Jackson, whose album "Thriller" was No. 1 on the charts for 37 straight weeks.

That might confirm that it really is Ron Artest who sings this amazing Michael Jackson tribute song. The only reason I personally think Ron made this song is because no other human on earth would be capable of producing something like this.


And just to educate those who do not know:

Ron wore #15 at St. Johns and with the Chicago Bulls. After being traded to Indiana, Ron switched from #15 to #23 to honor Michael Jordan, then to #91 to honor Dennis Rodman. Before he left Indiana Ron's plan was to switch his number every year to honor a Bull from their championship run this included rocking #25 for Steve Kerr and #9 for Ron Harper. Ron's plan was to honor a rival team within the Pacers' conference.

Then he wore #93 in Sacramento only because it correlated with his then shoe-endorser K1X's campaign "93 to infinity." Ron was the only player signed to the German-based sportswear company and their campaign was based off the classic Souls of Mischief one-hit wonder.

Then Ron switched to #96 in Houston only because the #96 kinda looks like "qb."

Other important shit I've not written about:

- Not having much to do I have been checking the Milwaukee Bucks official site every to find out when I can think about spending money I don't have on a Brandon Jennings jersey I would never wear. It's still not for sale, but today they started showing ads confirming he will wear #3. And that was the highlight of today.

- No there is not a filthier backcourt than Brandon and Salim Stoudamire.

- I love that Brian Cook's agent is sending out his wedding photo to Jeff Pearlman.

- I meant to only keep that silly J.R. Smith WPM banner while Denver was in the playoffs, but I got lazy and I can't think of any other banner I like more than that one. Sadly WPM's current banner is in jail, probably working on his 45-foot three-pointer in the prison yard.

- Speaking of people going to jail... Here is a picture of Cambridge Steve's final days a free man in Harlem.

- Cambridge Steve is not actually in jail, nor has he even been in jail, despite the fact that he probably wants to go to jail just to hang out with his favorite rapper (hold you head up Prodigy). He actually moved back to Cambridge, something Jesse Jackson forgot to mention when he was giving his sad speech about Michael Jackson in front of the Apollo Theater.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Ain't nothing but a college person


This is too good not to post. Credit to The Baseline for posting this and for my friend Andy for having it in my inbox before I woke up.

Jumpoff!

Partially transcribed below:
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On next season in Milwaukee ...

Budden: You better worry about Ramon Sessions, diggin' in your a**, pause. Jennings: He's not going to be here. [inaudible] That money is going to Charlie. Budden: N****, Ramon Sessions is gonna be there. Jennings: I doubt it. Budden: They ain't go no other guards. Jennings: Ridnour. Budden: N****, get that bum-a** n**** outta here. Jennings: He's going to be a backup. Budden: To who? Jennings: To who? Who else n****?

On what happened on draft night ...

Budden: Who was hatin' on you? Jennings: Jay Bilas. Budden: What happened? You ran in the draft late or some dumb s*** like a loser? Jennings: No, I was at the hotel. This is what happened right. My agent is like "Well, we ain't hear nothing .We ain't have no guarantee." So we makin' phone calls and s*** and n***** is saying like "The workouts is great and everything and he's the best point guard but we don't know yet, we just don't know." Budden: They didn't say that about Rick Rubio, number one, and number two they didn't say you the best point guard. They said your jump shot is shaky, you got some potential, but your work ethic is bull****. You averaged 3 points. Jennings: You're a liar. I know you're lying now. Budden: I'm just telling you what they said. Jennings: That ain't nothing but a college person. Budden: Just tell me what happened. You end up running in the draft? I tunred it off after that. Jennings: No, n****, I came out there and made my appearance n**** and I had the best appearance out of all them n******. And I was the best dressed, they said, by the way. I was the best dressed.

On whether he'll start next season ...

Budden: You think you gonna start for real though? Jennings: I don't know, actually, I really don't know. Budden: I heard that n**** Scott Skiles is an a**h***. Jennings: That n**** tough, that n**** tough though. There must be a reason he liked me. There must be a reason.

On Ricky Rubio and the Knicks ...

Budden: Let me know when Minnesota get there. So I can watch Rubio light your f****** a** up. I never seen a n**** hate on Rubio so much. Jennings: [inaudible] Budden: You know what's funny? You're the only guard in the draft talking s*** about Rubio. Jennings: The other n***** are scared. Budden: What are you going to do when Rubio comes to the Knicks? Jennings: Rubio is not coming, they are not giving up Rubio. You got Jordan Hill, you happy with that? Budden: I don't really know enough about Jordan Hill to be happy ... I'm happy with Toney Douglas. Jennings: I know they were booing this n****. Budden: What does that mean? They boo everybody n****. Jennings: If it was Stpehen Curry, them n***** would've went crazy in there. Budden: Shut the f*** up, you don't even know nothing about New York basketball. Jennings: F*** the Knicks, them n***** skipped out on me. Budden: Oh man, you feel to the Knicks like I do about Jay-Z? [Laughs] Yo, the Knicks is your Jay-Z? Jennings: F*** the Knicks, them n***** is always going to be weak. Budden: This is where I f****** hang up on your f****** ass for talking stupid. Jennings: Duhon ain't gonna get it done.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Draft Day/Sad Day 2009


Here is the 2009 WPM NBA Draft review:

• After a ridiculously long middle-of-the-night commute, I arrived at the Garden just before 6 a.m. I was unsure how early I should arrive before the tickets went on sale at 11 a.m., so I figured showing up a good five hours early would be playing it safe. I had been looking forward to attending the draft ever since I thought about moving to NYC, so I was set on doing whatever it took to attend the draft.

• There were already a good 40 people in front of me, including one kid rocking an authentic DKV Joventut Ricky jersey.

• I have never once had a nightmare where I walked naked into a public setting, but showing up to the NBA draft without a jersey was like living that nightmare for five hours. I have never felt so naked and I will never forgive myself for not bringing my D. Miles Cleveland Jersey to NYC. It would have killed.

• It was rather serene to be on the streets at such an early hour. Except there was a homeless guy 10 feet away from the line who was either rehearsing his soliloquy of Billy Madison speaking gibberish or he was just stung the fuck out. He went on for a good 30 minutes incoherently yelling at a light pole. I respected his dedication to his craft.

• There was a white guy rocking an Iguodala Sixers jersey backwards, which I believe means he's a Sixers fan in distress. Where as if you are a black guy wearing a jersey backwards it means you are Nelly in the "Tip Drill" video.

• Other dope jerseys I saw in the line: A Warriors Spree jersey, An NYC Spree jersey (I can't tell you how much I hate Gallinari fake Spree jerseys), a NYC Jamal Crawford jersey, about 500 Patrick Ewing jerseys, a dirty Bobcats warm-up jersey, and a dirtier Spanish national team Ricky jersey.

• There is a banner that hangs inside the Garden's entrance that commemorate The Liberty's (NYC's WNBA team) first home game, in which they defeated the Mercury (Phoenix's WNBA team). That one still hurts.

• I still don't understand what color the Mercury wore in their inaugural season.

• The five-hour wait was saved by a nice camping chair, a good book and a bag of pretzels. I was also entertained by the kids in front of me who spent two hours passing a notepad back and forth writing their own mock draft. It was pretty solid as every pick ended with the phrase "via trade."

• I was also allowed ample time to contemplate the absurdity of the situation. Fans will pay thousands of dollars to watch a guy throw a ball into a metal rim, hit a ball with stick of wood or any other sport you want to break down to the simplest level. But I am calling in sick to work and waiting in line for over five hours to watch kids the age of my younger brother walk across a stage and shake an old Jewish dude's hand.

• Guys from the Knicks PR street team began passing out Knicks towels and postcards encouraging fans to buy season tickets. Since there currently is no real face of the Knicks, the card had a picture from inside the Garden of the Knicks playing the Nets with the scoreboard showing the Knicks down 65-52.

• Eventually after more than five hours of waiting, which involved a fair amount of anxiety that I would not even be able to buy tickets, I got the golden ticket (15 bucks and in 6 rows deep in he highest section of the theater) and I went home to take a victory nap.

• I was awoken once from my slumber by a call from work, which I promptly ignored. Ten minutes later work called again. This time I picked up thinking they would have some trivial question to ask me. I was wrong. They called to tell me I was fired. After ending the call I began to lose my mind quite a bit. How could they do this to me on my special day and less importantly how could they do this to me on Brandon Jennings' special day.

Actually Brandon Jennings was completely removed from my mind as I began pacing back and forth in the hallway trying to calm myself down and not dwell on the shittiness of unemployment of the past and present.

Granted it was a lame office job that I hated and the pay was comically low, but it was still an income none the less. And it was a blatant attempt to try to destroy a day I had been looking forward to for years.

• I carried on with my day and returned to the Garden an hour before the draft. I sold my extra ticket for $30, which paid for my ticket and netted me an extra 15 bones, almost making up for the lost job. I tried to get a lot more for the ticket, but the market just was not there and another scalper eloquently put it, "This draft is dead, n***** don't wanna see this shit."

• Then my friend told me Michael Jackson died. More sadness.

• Finally I got in the WaMu Theater and 30 minutes later Mr. Stern took the mic and the draft began.

• 1 - The only thing worth noting from the No. 1 pick was that I did not know Tricky Ricky was on the Clippers. The same Ricky Davis who once tried to cheat his way to a triple double.

• 2 - There was a guy wearing a black Griz Darko jersey which was trill enough as it is. But he went the extra mile and safety-pinned a paper reading "Thabeet" on the back over Milicic.

• 3 - I'm actually a big James Harden fan even though I refuse to accept the Thunder (who get nastier by the minute) as a real team. His was also killing it with his suit.

• 4 - I'd guess that we are only 30 days away from learning that Tyreke never even took his SATs to get into Memphis.

• 5 - The Wolves had no choice but to pick Rubio here, even if he refuses to play for Minny.

• 6 - I was really hoping the Wolves would pick Brandon just so they could have the two in same backcourt, but they did something just as silly and picked Jonny Flynn.

• 7- When the Warriors stole Stephen Curry off the board I would describe the atmosphere inside the theater as somewhere between 9/11 and Michael Jackson's death. Word to Ochocinco.

• 8 - I think Stern just finished enunciating the J in Jordan Hill's name when Knicks fans began to boo. I booed with them because why the fuck not? When asked what I thought about Hill by a Knicks fan, I told him that Hill was a dumber A'm'ar'e Stoudemire, if that is possible. Side note: I sat in the Suns war room for the 2006 NBA Draft. I still have the official media guide which lists the top 300 players eligible for the 2006 Draft. That media guide does not include Renaldo Balkman, who the Knicks chose with their 20th pick in the '06 Draft. Few can fuck up drafts like the Knicks.

• 9 - Including Demar Derozan, I have seen 6 of the first 13 picks play in person, in case you were curious.

• 10 - Brandon Jennings. Finally the moment I have been waiting my entire life for. And he is not in the fucking building. Can this day get any fucking worse. I waited five hours in line just to say I was there when Brandon was drafted and see some ridiculous Italian suit and the motherfucker does not even show up. I am seriously depressed at this point.

• 11 through 13 - Don't matter. I sit alone in the Theater and want to cry. I plan on waiting for the Suns to fuck up the 14th pick and then bounce.

• 14 - "With the 14th pick in the 2009 NBA Draft the Phoenix Suns select Earl Clark from the University of Louisville, Clark is not in attendance tonight. (Pause) But... The Milwaukee Bucks' pick Brandon Jennings is now here," Stern declares. And like a little kid on Christmas my eyes light up and a big smile returns to my face. Brandon awkwardly comes out from behind the stage and blows kisses to the crowd and then gives a belated handshake to the Commish.

• Then the No. 13 pick Tyler Hansbrough exits through aisle next to the lunatic fans I am sitting with. Most other players receive warm cheers and high fives as they exit, but not Hansbrough. Everyone boos Psycho T as he walks by. The kid next to me, who was no bigger than me (5'9," 145) gets within 8 inches of Hansbrough's face and screams "Faggot!" at Hansbrough (6'9," 250). Many others join in and begin to loudly question his sexuality. Then one kid, appropriately enough wearing a Knicks Starbury jersey, knocks Hansbrough's draft cap off his head. He is quickly apprehended by security and escorted out of the building to chants of "MVP!" and we all offer him high fives in support of his bold act of bravery.

Brandon Jennings quickly follows and I give him a high five. Sure I don't have a job, paying rent is going to be a struggle soon and Brandon Jennings, 3 years my younger, just secured himself a contract for a couple more million on top of the $2 million he earned in Italy; but for that second all seemed right in the world.

• For the record I don't know shit about Earl Clark and I don't really care. Also when Hansbrough was drafted one fan behind me began chanting "Austin Croshere!" unfortunately nobody picked up on it.

• I was excited for the Suns to bomb the upcoming season with hopes of getting John Wall next year... Until Gould reminded me that the Suns gave away their 2010 first-round unprotected pick along with Kurt Thomas for a conditional second round pick. Enjoy that top five pick next year OKC.

• I later bumped into Bruce Pascoe, gotta respect your local Tucson beat writers.

• I bounced around the theater some more and ran into the Jennings clan. I saw a skinny kid in a nice suit with the Bucks draft cap. I yelled Brandon at him twice until I realized it was a his little brother Terrence, who if you don't know is the coolest kid in the universe and you would expect far too cool to remember meeting me multiple times before.

• A group of fans waved an Israeli flag and celebrated when Israel-born Omri Casspi was selected. Later I saw a guy wearing a shirt reading "Palestine Spyders," I would have like to see his reaction to Casspi's selection.

• The remaining fans began chanting "Jeff Van Gundy" until the former Knicks coach and current ESPN announcer acknowledged them, to which they responded with cheers. They repeated the process with Mark Jackson. And they began chanting "Bilas sucks!" God bless draft fans.

• I finally saw one of my journalism heroes Lang Whitaker in the flesh. I shouted "Hey Lang!" at him and he turned around from the media section. I told him I was a long-time Linkstigator and he gave me solid finger point of respect. If you guys understood how long and how much I have read of Lang's work you would understand how amazing that is.

• I was really, really upset that I did not run into the Stephen A. Smith Heckling Society of Gentlemen. That guy is one of my personal heroes, but on a lesser scale than Lang Whitaker.

• I stayed for the first few picks of the second round just to see the NBA Deputy Commissioner Adam Silver, who was greeted to chants of "We want Russ," in reference to Russ Granik, the former Deputy Commissioner, who announced the second round until 2006. I hope you all can appreciate how insanely hardcore these fans were.

• I left the draft in a decent mood, still a little messed up over losing my job. But if I learned anything on the day, it's that going to the draft is not about having a good time. For New Yorkers its about having your GM pick a brain-dead, raw power-forward in hopes that he will compliment a superstar you probably won't be able to sign in 2010; and leaving the theater furious as a result. And for the rest of us, it's seeing one young kid after another make more money in a night than most of us will ever see in a lifetime.

• Here are some pics I took on the day:

Young Money now a Buck.


Hansbrough before he was de-capped.


This lady was quite bizarre.


Uhhhhhhh.


Monday, June 22, 2009

Ordinary people


This is a story I have been meaning to run for a while and it has a lot of footnotes.

While I was moving my suitcases from my previous stripper/coke apartment to my current stoner/disgusting (that is in the past now) apartment I noticed a treadmill on the street that had a sign reading "Take me, I work."

Jackpot. I have no idea what a real winter is like, but I have been told you cannot go outside, so a treadmill seemed like a nice device to have. I tried to move it 300 feet to my previous apartment by myself, but I could not because the wheels were broke and it was too heavy.

Because I am delusional and I thought someone would take my precious find within 60 seconds, I ran back into my apartment to try to get my neighbor Kenny1 to help me out. I burst into their apartment2 and Kenny was nowhere to be found. His roommate Kayvene3 sat in one of the rooms with Rhonda4.

"Kenny's not here?!" I asked.

"No," Kayvene replied.

"Fuck."

"What do you need?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it, enjoy yourself," I said sacrificing my treadmill so Kayvene could finish his date or whatever the fuck was going on.

Then Rhonda asked if I remembered Lauren5 from the other night and told me Lauren wanted my number. She asked me a million questions that I did not have time for. I was very short with her and I told her to have the girl call me if she wants.

I then ran downstairs because my roommates would be of no help6 and returned to the sight of my treadmill, which was still there because it was unmovable and because only three minutes had elapsed.

I was determined so I dragged the beast along the sidewalk, carving small half-circles into the cement with every two feet of progress. After I struggled for a bit, Moses7 came out of nowhere and helped me carry the treadmill inside my building.

The next day, my current roommate Grant8 came by to help me lug the treadmill to our current place. We decided it would be smart to make sure it worked first before we carried it five blocks. Fortunately Gretchen9 was outside with an extension cord hanging to the ground from her third floor window.

We plugged it in and it worked. I can now say that it feels really cool to run on a treadmill outside on a busy street.

After a long back-breaking walk, we made it back to our place with the treadmill.

Three weeks later: Lauren never called me and nobody has used the treadmill.

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1. Kenny, 21, moved to NYC with much less than I did. He had never been here before he moved here two months ago. He now walks dogs to pay his rent.

2. Their apartment was big, but except they had next to no furniture. In one common room they had a corner table which held a laptop. The other common area they had three mismatched chairs and a small table. One bedroom had a bed and the other had a sleeping bag and a Guatemalan flag. Nobody in their apartment was Guatemalan.

3. I have no idea how to spell this guy's name. He is a 29-year-old Irish architect whose name is pronounced KAY-veen. He's a very nice guy.

4. I met Rhonda at a party at their place. I referenced her in an earlier blog as a female I was going after until I learned she had a 10-year-old son. She took me to a crazy art jamfest/rave once. It was very bizarre.

5. I met Lauren at the crazy art jamfest/rave. She appeared to be on an incredible amount of drugs. When I first met her, she laughed uncontrollably and asked if I was from Pennsylvania.

6. My old roommates were rarely awake between the hours of 11 am and 9 pm.

7. Moses is a Latino dude with a weird mullet, who always wears a bright orange Nascar t-shirt. He claimed to be the super of a nearby building, but I think he might be homeless. A very, very nice guy though.

8. Grant is a good dude.

9. Gretchen was my neighbor who was always sitting outside, drinking a beer and working on her screenplay. She attended the University of Oregon. She had hairy legs and lived with her partner, who I never met.