I lraeend smotinheg itnrenstieg tdoay, wcihh was pseotd on the wlal of a swciadnh sohp. Sdueits hvae swohn taht it dseon't mtater waht oderr the ltetres in a wrod are pclead. Aleprntapy all taht mrttaes is taht the fsirt and lsat lttrees are in the ppeorr odrer.
Hlnetsoy, I'm not so srue it's taht spmile. Smoe of tshee wdros look lkie prue gisrebibh.
Waht do you tinhk? Was tihs sprursilginy esay to dpiceher?
(above: the view from just outside the walls of the infamous Federal Central Prison)
I had a dream last night that I was in prison. But I hadn't committed any crime to get there -- I was only in the clink because someone very near and dear to me had been jailed and I was spending some time in prison with her voluntarily (and not just visiting for the afternoon -- I was in there for an extended period of time).
Oh, and this wasn't just any prison -- it was juvenile prison (though neither myself nor the person I was visiting was a juvenile; such is logic in the world of dreams).
In any case, this arrangement was all good and well until one day a prison administrator came in and told me that I needed to go see the prison doctor. When I inquired as to why, they said that it had come to their attention that I was not a juvenile and therefore they were going to send me to Federal Central Prison, but first I had to be examined by the doctor to make sure I didn't have a fever (note: I think this odd appearance of the fever as a plot device may have had something to do with the fact that a friend of mine was unable to hang out last night in real life due to a fever). I attempted to explain that I hadn't committed any crime and was just in the prison voluntarily, but this bureaucrat wasn't hearing it.
So, next thing I know I'm in the doctor's office, he's testing me for a fever, and I'm doing everything in my power to get the fever reading meter (yes, it was a large meter I could see, not a thermometer) to register an elevated temperature. My main strategy was holding my breath, and much to my delight it seemed to be working (if I had a fever, I obviously couldn't be moved to Federal Central right away).
However, the doctor apparently realized that I was holding my breath to alter the fever-o-meter, and he told me to start talking. When I did, the meter started to lower its fever reading, but I still managed to keep it largely at the fever point for the entire required period of time.
The problem was, after the doctor stopped taking the reading, he said nothing about me having a fever to the administrator, and I was told that I'd be sent to Federal Central Prison in the morning. I attempted to protest again, but they were hearing none of it.
At this point, it seemed my only course of action was to contact my father (an attorney). However, as I picked up my iPhone to dial, I noticed that the time was 8:11 p.m., which meant that it was past regular business hours and it would be too late --
Wait a second, iPhone? Why would I have an iPhone in prison? I thought.
A moment later, I was awake. Somehow, it was the fact that I had a cell phone in prison and not the existence of a bizarre "fever-o-meter" that had brought me back to reality and thereby ended the dream. Honestly, I didn't care whether it was a phone or a fever-o-meter or a flying squirrel that awakened me; I was just happy not to be going to Federal Central.
Quote of the week (or unspecified time period until I post another quote), from Dikembe Mutombo, speaking to the Houston Chronicleof Yao Ming's tendency to draw charges:
“I’m very critical,” Mutombo said. “Those are bull. I told him that. He’s too tall to be taking charges. He needs to learn to play defense without using his chest. You don’t block a shot with you chest. You block it with your hands. The man who taught me the game, John Thompson, never said that a 7-footer should take a charge, even in a basketball 1-on-1. There’s no rule or writing in the books that you should take a charge. They teach you how to rebound and block shots. So I’m going to work on that. Maybe Yao is listening to Shane [Battier]. Maybe he wants to be a guard or something. Man, I’ve got a lot of things to work on. Maybe he’s planning to lead the league charges. So I have to stop him. I have to teach him to lead the league in blocked shots, not charges.”
Bravo, Dikembe. Charges are indeed bull. Actually, only fake ones are bull. But it seems like pretty much 90 percent of charges are flops these days.
YOU DON'T BLOCK A SHOT WITH YOU CHEST. YOU BLOCK IT WITH YOUR HANDS.
I've watched this Nick Young clip (highlight #3 out of the Top 5) about 11 times and I still have no idea what exactly he did, but I love it. Apparently Gilbert Arenasclaims Young clearly just lost the ball and recovered, while Young says he knew what he was doing all along. I think I'm going to have to try this move in my rec league hoops game tonight. Side note: It will not work. Another side note: I wish JaVale McGee was on my rec league hoops team.
Our soccer correspondent Juan Samuel (no relation to the retired, error-prone baseball player of the same name) passed along this clip. Juan watches a lot of soccer, and calls this one of the sickest goals he's ever seen. The OCC watches considerably less soccer, but would nevertheless have to agree.
I'm very close to being at a loss for words at the notion of John Smoltz signing with Boston, so I'll simply say this: Reading Chipper Jones' reaction to the whole episode is enough to make any self-respecting Braves fan want to smash a thousand plate glass windows with a mallet.
Now if you'll pardon me, I must go find a bunch of plate glass windows.