I Mean Yeah He’s A Good Player But He Didn’t Lick Adam Silver’s Bald Head
I’m a longtime NBA fan, and I can remember fondly the days where the little Black men who entertain me would be humble about the opportunity to do so. But these days, newly drafted players don’t even lick Adam Silver’s bald head! What the fuck is going on?
Gone are the days of tomorrow’s superstars coming from poverty. These days, every player is from the suburbs, and knows their worth. Boring! How am I supposed to fetishize them now? What with my fucked up power fantasies?
Take that kid who just got drafted to the Celtics. Sure—maybe he did average 81 points per game in college, broke every record, and was a lawyer on the team that helped me get back custody of my child after the incident. Regardless, when his name was called, he didn’t smile hard enough.
Even if players don’t display immediate, extravagant emotional reactions upon hearing their name called, the least they could do is lick Adam Silver’s bald head when they get up on stage. The price for their lives being better than mine is the taste of jojoba oil.
And look, I know that my sentiments may come off as “racist” or “racist”. But I assure you, they’re not. I, simply, like all Americans, love a good rags to riches story.
And as we all know, in this country, race has absolutely nothing to do with who tends to have the rags and who tends to have the riches.
I’m tired of players not satisfying the arbitrary requirements I’ve set up for them from my couch. Their punishment, if they choose to disobey, is my condemnation. May they shiver in fear, amongst their millions.