Knicks-Celtics / Yanks-Rangers Live Blog!!!

6:46 - As soon as I get Jr. to bed, I'm on it!!!

7:46 - One hour later, and tied 28-28. Jr.'s asleep but Lil Mz is roaming the living room virtually unsupervised. Good enough.

7:57 - Figured I'd try typing with my 14-month-old daughter on my lap. My laptop immediately went to a terrifying black screen, with a garish font warning something about system reboot. Children under the age of two have an uncanny ability to make computers (and other electronic devices, particularly cell phones) do things they've never been seen to do. Lee Jr. once caused my screen to rotate 90 degrees with the strike of a single key, which was harder than you might think to fix. I had my head and spine orthogonal as I tried to make corresponding moves with my mouse, which I was terrible at.
I can barely pick my nose properly while looking in the mirror-- something is seriously wrong with my brain's ability to reflect images.

8:08 - Pretty good so far. Bounces and calls seem to be going our way for the most part, and no one's broken their leg(s) yet. We have a chance.

8:09 - I really thought about postponing the boy's bedtime and having him watch the game with me on the couch. You know, a real "father-son" moment. Or something like a farmer taking his boy out to see the slaughtering of chickens ("geeking") as a rite of passage; maybe even the equivalent of the Maasai Eunoto ceremony, where pubescent warriors eat raw oxen flesh as they are promoted to the ranks of full tribesmen.

---(MID-THIRD QUARTER)... JR. HAS HORRIBLE HONKING COUGH FIT AND NEEDS TV TO RE-OPEN WINDPIPE... "MAX AND RUBY: EASTER" AND "MAX AND RUBY: PARADE" ARE ON-DEMANDED ARE WATCHED TWICE EACH FOR A TOTAL OF 96 MINUTES OF AIR TIME... REMAINDER OF KNICKS-CELTICS MISSED COMPLETELY, WITH MINIMAL ACCESS TO BLACKBERRY SCOREMOBILE... LAST 21 SECONDS OF GAME TAKE AT LEAST 10 MINUTES OF FROZEN SCREEN TIME... MISSED REMAINDER OF YANKEE GAME AS WELL...

Can someone tell me why the fuck i even bother writing about this bullshit?!! Anyone?!!!

Huges, Huger, Hugest!

Glad ESPN got this news to us right away...



Pistons 99, Knicks 95

People have been asking me, "Lee, why don't you write about the Knicks anymore?" Well, they really say, "Lee, you asshole, why don't you write ANYTHING anymore??!!!" but that's besides the point. Let's talk about the Knicks.

Truth is, I'm terrified. Every time I turn on MSG when the Knicks are on, they immediately go stone cold and disappear into a 12-2 run by the opponent. Seriously, at least 80% of the time. I fear my beloved team have become Eurydice to my Orpheus, punishing my lack of faith with eternal misery.

Upon further reflection, I realize that this is not a new phenomenon. The Knicks have sucked as soon as I turn on the TV for the last 10+ years! Forget the Greek myths, this is like saying, "Wow, I looked out the window at midnight tonight and it was dark out!" It's just that now the Knicks are sort of good again, I think. Maybe.

SEE???!!! They were up by about ten when I turned it on tonight, and they just lost the damn game to the Pistons. O Knicks! Return thy selves to the Erinyes and Hades himself, for you my gaze shall ne'er find!!!

Charlie Don't Surf

Wow. Sheen's-Korner is so powerful, so awe-inspiring... it's not logical to even begin a discussion.  I'm half staring-at-the-light in Close Encounters and half staring-into-the-Ark in Raiders of the Lost Ark.  It's a brave new world, or maybe an eternity damned.

Snowblind

I can't see a damn thing. Feels that way, anyway.

Honestly, my recent vision issues are a welcome departure from my last medical debacle, which is still going on. I'd love to tell you all about my semen analysis nightmare of the past couple of months, but it's much too complex and painful to write about. Let's just say it involves a Subway sandwich shop on Canal St., a testing center in South Maryland, and more than a few wasted weekends. I thought the whole point of masturbating was to avoid being rejected by other people!


Things started looking all washed out and blurry in my right eye about three weeks ago. Given that things have looked all washed out and blurry in my left eye for about seven years, this concerned me. Even weirder was the droop in my right eyelid, which ranges from about 50% to 15% droopage. Did I have one of those "silent strokes" everyone's talking about, or did I just fall asleep in my ice cream again?

This seemed like a question for Frank Weiner to answer. Dr. Weiner is one of New York City's most respected neuro-opthamologists, and he actually takes my insurance. I had an appointment last Wednesday afternoon, and arrived promptly with a CD of my most recent brain scans and some scrawled out notes on a piece of paper. It was already starting to snow like the dickens, but I made it.

I was immediately convinced that Dr. Weiner was a stand-up guy and a master of his discipline. Within minutes he had diagnosed my ailment (contact lense fatigue), but he still put me through a battery of neurological and optical exams, probably to eliminate obscure diseases like heterochromia, Horner's Syndrome, and nystagmus (I actually had uveitis, which I guess sounds sort of cool). It's incredible how low-tech most of these tests are. Ratty parchment letter charts and plastic eye-patches are still used by the finest physicians in the world.

Defying description is the "visual field" exam. which measures a patient's peripheral and central vision. Imagine getting bonked on the head with a sledgehammer, taking a hit of acid, and playing Missle Command with a spaghetti strainer over your head. That's what a visual field exam is like.

Weiner sent me off with a script for steroid eyedrops and strict instructions to avoid contact lenses for at least one week. Avoid, as in "don't wear them." Of course, I forgot to bring a pair of glasses with me. [note: I famously forgot my glasses for Mike Mussina's near-perfect game at Fenway in '01... Charles Simone will bring this up any time he has 5+ beers in him]I staggered out onto First Avenue and into the budding snowstorm. Slush puddles the size of Lake Huron had already formed at every corner. My chances of hailing a cab seemed as scant as Blind Pew finding buried treasure in the island sand. I decided to head west, young men.

Second on my mental list (right under "cab") was finding a drugstore-- not only did I need to fill my script, but I also needed some fancy-ass preservative-free eyedrops to prep my sore eyes for the 'roid-water. I spied a CVS across the street, just beyond what appeared to be a clearing in front of parking garage. That seemed like safe passage, even if I was still seeing flashes and swirls from the visual field exam.

The "clearing" turned out to be a side entrance to the Midtown Tunnel, and yes, it was rush hour. I hotstepped my way across and somehow made it over to CVS. I soon realized I had about as good a chance of locating preservative-free eyedrops as Blind Pew was never going to find what I needed without some major help. A kind strumpet took pity on me grim face and sent me to aisle 5. I grabbed a Snickers and shuffled back out into the cold.


Walking around Manhattan without glasses or contacts (if you're visually impaired) feels liberating at first, and quickly becomes absolutely terrifying. A lot like walking around Manhattan without pants or underwear (which I've only done once). I decided to push the taxi thing even harder.


I finally made it home, and joined my wife in a frantic search for my glasses. I believe I've owned only three pairs of glasses in my life, but I'm not quite sure. What is certain is that one pair was sat on by the Mz. and another pair was dropped in the toilet by me. The third pair was at least four prescriptions old, but easily located (of course). We were unable to find the toilet-glasses, which left me with lenses that actually accentuated my eyes' deficiencies, rather than correcting them (they blurred my left eye and doubled my right eye imaging). I immediately began wearing them.

Top 10 Guitar Solos

Buddy of mine came up with this "topic" a few weeks ago.  No, we weren't wasted!  At least I wasn't.  Anyway, here's my necessary but not sufficient list:

1. "Blue Sky" - Duane Allman/Dickey Betts

Brings a tear to me eye ev'ry time.  Probably the only song on this list you can safely play in front of anyone (in-laws, toddlers, your boss, the elderly, etc.).

2. "Comfortably Numb" - David Gilmour

Wait, you never listened to this on your floor with your eyes bulging out of your head?  You should stop reading this right now and go organize your sweater drawer.

3. "Flight Over Rio" - Al DiMeola

They shoulda called this one "Blimp Over Sunset Park On Cough Syrup" but hey, Al's never been big on song titles.  A.D. rescues this proto-Screwed flange-fest from the tussin swamp around the three-minute mark, and proceeds to embarass the sweatpants off of Jan Hammer in a somewhat unconventional duel of licks (Les Paul vs. Mini-Moog?).  Al carves up a fucking bison while Jan spurts synth-jizz all over the console.

4. "Free Will" - Alex Lifeson

I already nailed this one in two words or less on two pills or more in my Permanent Waves review: positively horny.

5. "Heartbreaker" - Jimmy Page

I remember a guy I used to hang out with complaining about this one: "Blah blah blah... so sloppy... blah... noisy pickups... not that fast... blah..."  Notice I said used to hang out with that jerk.

6. "I Heard Her Call My Name" - Lou Reed

The gold standard for noisy guitar solos. My college roommate was out on the roof with his friend and a couple of girls one afternoon, totally wasted and pissing me off. I took their bad rap CD out and blasted this song, and they kept on dancing. Neither drunk got laid.

7. "Sinner's Swing!" - Eddie Van Halen
I nailed this one on Lee's Steez too, but I was so bombed I deleted it. Something about skinning an electric eel, or maybe wetting your pants in an electric chair? It was right on, whatever it was.

8. "St. Elmo's Fire" - Robert Fripp

Mr. Bojangles perfects his toggle-switch electric pan-flute routine here, and is given a courtesy reprise for his efforts.  Bravo!

9. "The Thing That Should Not Be" - Kirk Hammett

You wanna talk about guitar solos that enrich not only the song but the song-concept as well?  I do.  The Lovecraft theme is reinforced by a non-Euclidean guitar-poem that defies all known tonal and harmonic constructs.  Yog-Sothoth is belching in approval somewhere...

10. "Whole Lotta Rosie" (live) - Angus Young

We don't usually recommend bringing a breakneck juggernaut to a complete stop for a guitar solo; in fact, we forbid it.  Angus somehow gets it back up on the tracks and up to speed in about ten seconds, in front of thousands of screaming fans!  Breathtaking.

The Big Payback

I couldn't wait to get home tonight and provide y'all with coverage of LeBron's ballyhooed return to the Quicken Loans Arena.  Let's not forget that the worst decision of LBJ's charm-assed life was broken via live blog right here at Lee's Steez!

So I got Lee Jr. bathed and asleep by 7:55, which should've given me more than ample time (5 minutes) to get my shit together and set up in front of the old boober tuber.  Before I could even find the remote, things began to spiral out of control:
1) The Mz hadn't gotten our little 10-month angel down yet.  In fact, she was wide awake.
2) The Mz was going out drinking with her galpal from Texas.
3) As I thought about how the f**k I was going to get baby doll to sleep, she did a Tommy LaSorda and bonked her head on the hardwood floor.  Bloodcurdling screams followed.

Not to worry!  Being a pro, I had my daughter asleep 15 minutes later, thanks to a little something I like to call "pumped breast milk."  I finally got the game going, and quickly encountered the fourth problem:
4) This game is totally ridiculous.  Cleveland sucks!  Bill Simmons is out of his mind!

You do the math.  Take any Cavs game from last season, and subtract LeBron's points from their total.  Now add his points to the other team.  Cleveland loses every time!!!

More pathetic than the Cavaliers team are their blue-collar, tough-as-nails, salt-of-the-earth fans.  "BETRAYED" signs?  "QUEEN JAMES" t-shirts??!!  Their wife just dumped them and fucked the local Wal-Mart supervisor on national TV and this is the best they can do?!!!!  No wonder he left!  Actually, the best one was a quartet emblazoned with "Le", "B", "U", and "M" sitting in a row.  When the camera finally focused in on them, the "M" guy was slouched down and looking away (probably on his phone), so their message was read by millions as "LeBU"... Wait, an hour later they finally got it right!  LeBUM!  LeBUM!

Hey, I just realized that if Chris Bosh was still on Toronto, he'd be on the elite all-star team of guys that look like what their team is named after.  He looks exactly like a Raptor, or some sort of slender prehistoric reptile.  Other "Namesake" players: Kevin McHale, anyone on the 2001 Blazers... I'm not entirely sure what a "Cavalier" is, but Anderson Varejao might fit the bill.

Only real question here is who's gettin' gaffled and who's doin' the gafflin'?  Did LeBron James and the Heat walk into a psychological and emotional massacre?  Or are the Cleveland fans (of course, we're not actually talking about the Cavs here!) about to take another mega-punch to their collective gut?  Who's taking the hit here?

As always, the answer is US.  We're the stupid asses that buy into this manufactured TNT "drama" again and again.  They're showing clips from the Reggie Miller vs. Knicks/Spike Lee series, leading us to believe that another battle of epic proportions is under way here in Cleveland.  Please!!!  The "choke" wars were actually spawned by exciting basketball, not money and backstabbing.  Wow, things have really gone downhill in this league.

Sippin' On Some Syrup, verse 1 (Pimp C)

According to Google Analytics (whoever that is!), my "Swervin'" song translation is the most popular blog post on Lee's Steez. Literacy is alive!

If Three 6 Mafia is indeed the Chaucer of the Dirty South, then "Sippin' On Some Syrup" is its Canterbury Tales. The task of translating such a masterpiece is both arduous and exhilarating. As ol' G.C. used to say:
In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay
Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage
To Caunterbury with ful devout corage
Now po' it up, nigga...


Three 6 Mafia f/U.G.K. - "Sippin' On Some Syrup"

Chorus:Sippin' on some sizz-urp, sip, sippin' on some, sip...
Sippin' on some sizz-urp, sip, sippin' on some, sip... (repeat 8x)
Drinking a mixture of Tussionex, soda, and/or liquor...
Drinking a mixture of Tussionex, soda, and/or liquor... (repeat 8x)

Pimp C:
I'm trill workin' the wheel, a pimp not a simp
Keep the dope fiends higher than the Goodyear Blimp.
I'm a genuinely masculine human being and completely in control of all relationships I hold with the opposite sex, especially while operating a motor vehicle. The narcotics  sold by my syndicate of drug dealers are of such high potency that they often cause sensations of disassociation and vertigo, similar to those experienced by passengers of dirigibles, zeppelins, etc.

We eat so many shrimp, I got iodine poisoning
Fuckin' niggas make me sick with all that pinchin' and bargaining.
Our extravagant lifestyle affords us excessive arrays of appetizers, including raw shrimp and other shellfish-- occasionally our shrimp consumption leads to unnaturally high (but hardly fatal!) levels of iodine in our bloodstream. We have neither the time nor patience to deal with customers that steal from or attempt to haggle with the merchants of our drug syndicate.

You say that you a boss, I ain't believing that shit
You got the funny Geneva watch, with the Ferrari kit.
You claim to hold a position of prominence in your organization, but I haven't seen any evidence to support this. In fact, you've been spotted on numerous occasions wearing gaudy, tasteless Italian watches.

Take that monkey shit off, you embarassing us
I got tha red promethazine, tha orange and yella tuss.
Please remove the aforementioned accessories... you're misrepresenting members of your own crew and your profession as a whole! I'm currently in possession of Codiclear, Tussionex, and other hydrocodone compounds.

Hydroco-done on tha hands-free phone
Tha 84's roam on them blades, 20-inch chrome.
I'm operating a "hands-free" cellular phone, in full compliance with the Tennessee criminal code pertaining to motor vehicles. However, ingestion of the opioid hydrocodone has rendered me unable to operate my car legally. Regardless of my inebriation, my car is outfitted with 20-inch chrome Cadillac wire rims.

If you got 16, you can get a bizzerd
I'm chokin' on that doja sweet and sippin' on that sizzurp.
One can purchase a kilogram of pure, uncut cocaine for $16,000. I'm smoking marijuana and drinking a mixture of Tussionex, soda, and/or liquor.

He's baaaack...

Just when you think good ol' Isiah might disappear for good, he comes back better than ever. He's already scheming his return to the top of the Knicks "organization." Check out these (real!) quotes from his ESPN interview:

"I want to be on the float and I want to get my ring," Thomas said.
A ring around his bathtub?

"I'll put my draft evaluation record up against anyone's."
???

"In Toronto, Indiana and New York," Thomas said, "I've never actually gotten fired for a basketball reason."
My .456 career record as a head coach speaks for itself.

"Six or seven [NBA] teams I advise," said Thomas, who included the Knicks in that group. "I don't get paid for it."
I also advise President Obama, Dick Clark, and Santa Claus. I just don't get paid for it.

"I was below the poverty line," he said. "I swear to you I never thought I would see 20 years old."
Or 20 wins in one season!

"But I wasn't there. I wasn't her [Anucha Browne Sanders's] boss. She didn't report to me. I worked in Westchester, she worked in Manhattan. I would say hello to her at the games..."
Hello dolly!

"That's a problem with being a visionary," Thomas said. "You're way too far out, and by the time it catches up, people will hack you to death."
Hold on, are we talking about being a visionary or ODing on Lunesta?

"Chuck Daly begged me not to take the Knick job," Thomas said. "He said, 'You can't fix it. You'll probably fix it for somebody else.'"
We all begged you not to take the job!

"I do find it ironic that we all ended up here in Miami instead of us all ending up in New York," Thomas said. "But it's a four-year deal."
Who's "we?" You, Snooki and Vinny?

Knicks 120, Bulls 112

Wow, I'm actually sitting here at home and WATCHING THE KNICKS!!! I'm so happy that my aching balls don't even matter. I'm relaxing and watching the Knicks.

I was all set to watch 'em the other night, and the game was actually cancelled due to an asbestos hazard at MSG. Jeez, can these jerks do anything right? Utter ineptitude.

This is what I consider to be an ideal Knick game. They're up by 15 with less than six minutes to go... perfect!!! Chances are about 50/50 they win or blow it, which equals absolute excitement in my book. Sort of like turning on a Mets game with NYM up four runs in the 7th inning... this is gonna be good!

Shaw 'nuff, we're down to single-digit lead with about three minutes left. I got a single digit for ya, ref!

They usually win these kinds of games, but it ALWAYS goes down to the wire. But maybe things are different now... these are the no-luck no-look don't-look "new-look" Knicks we're talking about here. Definitely a new look to me-- I don't even know who some of these guys are! When Danilo Gallinari is the most famiiiar guy on the team, you know something's weird.

Well, looks like they're holding the lead. This Knick team might crawl out from under the curse of the new millenium, but they have the personality of a moving company. At least they'll win a few more games this way.