Drink Fernet Branca
I, Judas Pato, your dear friend and Bulls blogger extraordinaire, have been on a little hiatus lately. You see, I picked up a second job because I love spending money and I am exceptionally talented in that art. Ergo, the second job has kept me from watching and reviewing Bulls games. Yet, my inability to to do so is inversely related to how close I am to getting a retardedly fast car that I will promptly wrap around a pole. So there is that. And that makes me happy. Much happier than watching some terrible Bulls efforts. Take today’s contest for example. (No, please, take it! HIYO!!!) The Bulls entered this battle against their Central Conference rivals with a run of like a zillion wins against the Pistons. But all good things must come to end. Much like the Crusades, Standard Oil’s grip on the petroleum industry, and my innocence, the Bulls streak against the Pistons ended. It happened with something more akin to interpretive art than basketball, but it happened all the same. I planned on writing a review about it all. It was going to be something. I was going to include dinosaurs, robots, cattle, Rubik’s cubes, and ad hoc arguments in it. Also, it was going to be typed out in a fashion that was going to resemble Iron Maiden’s third album. But it was not to be, as the Bulls laid a turd on the court. Plus Vlad Rad played over 15 minutes – and no man or woman should have to blog about a game where that happens. And being a weaker individual than I once was, has me tired and defeated. So I will just leave you, the little people of the burden, with the knowledge that it was a poor night for your Chicago Bulls, and leave it at that. I think I am going to smoke a cigar now. Ciao.
UPDATEVILLE I smoked two cigars.