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Ron Artest, true warrior

Is there a case to be made for NBA players occasionally running up into the stands and beating the living shit out of their so-called fans? I’m tempted to say that there is.

Take for example Ron Artest and the infamous “malice at the Palace.” At the time I wasn’t sure what to think, since ol’ Ron-Ron is obviously not the sharpest pencil in the box anyway. Before he had been known for showing up to practice in his bath robe (no Weezy F Baby) and applying for a job at Circuit City just to get the discount.

Furthermore, many a cracka-ass cracka was adamant that in attacking a fan he had crossed some sort of line in the sand, not unlike Saddam Hussein when he went into Kuwait. Admittedly, no one likes to think that during the course of a sporting event one of these d-bags might run up into the stands and start wailing on you.

That said, since when is a cracka-ass cracka allowed to throw water one somebody at their job? It’s no wonder ol’ Ron-Ron went off, what with the number of jigs who drown every year in public pools (presumably Queensbridge doesn’t have its own pool). He was probably scared to death. That guy’s lucky all he got was beat up!

There was a similar incident recently in which Dikembe Mutombo almost had to chuck a spear at some crackety-crack. During a preseason game, one of his so-called fans had the sheer balls to call him a monkey. Mutombo stopped the game and had the fan escorted out, lest he would’ve gotten fucked up.

In fact, that’s the actual language he used:

For him to call a black man a monkey in the middle of the game–he was in the second row–for him to stand up and call ‘Mutombo the monkey’ is an insult. It insulted my integrity, my body, my family, my race…. If they fine me, I will go straight to the stands next time and fuck somebody up.


Indeed if there’s a theme to the NBA recently with regard to race relations, it’s the cracka-ass cracka owners and fans treating the players as if they were monkeys. How else to explain shit like this rule where players have to wear suits to and from games and while riding the pine. That’s some ol’ BJ and the Bear if I ever saw it!

Given this sort of racial atmosphere, it’s no wonder only one person (Rey?) ran out and copped the new Ron Artest album, My World. Granted, I’m sure it sucks balls (listen to a few tracks on Artest’s MySpace profile), but it’s not like those Shaq albums were any good, and at least a few people ran out and copped them.

No, I think it’s pretty obvious what this is about.


Speaking of Ron Artest, check out this review of his new album some d-bag has written posing as yours truly. What the fuck kind of shit is that?

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