I fear this may be my last post. Dana has taken me south of the border, to a town she is calling "Debarge" but which I swear is Tijuana because of all the whores and tequilla and signs that say "Tijuana." We are to meet some people later who swear they will take us out to the desert, as long as we bring all our valuables, and show us where "El Debarge" is hiding out. I keep telling Dana this is the wrong Debarge, and that it's Chico we are looking for, but she will hear none of it. "EL DEBARGE EL DEBARGE EL DEBARGE EDDIE DEBARTOLO ED BRADLEY ED KOCH ED WOOD ED ED EDEEDDDDD" is all she'll say, or spray, as the white foam that has permanently formed around her mouth often gets in the way of her enunciation.
I found this excellent article in the Washington Post about the Downfall of Salieri's Wizards. I think this is the most touching, and sad, part of the article:
"I want some popcorn," Kwame Brown was saying from his own folding chair across the locker room, talking to no one in particular, talking to air.
Kw. Brown talking to the air, mumbling about popcorn, scrunched up in a folding chair? How far has this beautiful, pliant, manchild fallen under the hideous clutches of Coach Phantom and Salieri the Berater? It's too sad to behold, to comprend, to mull over, to moist over. Let it go, let it go....
Ken - 7:54 PM