Today, the team here at NBA Off Season, the self proclaimed Wu-Tang Clan of basketball blogs here on Tumblr, has a request. We’d like you, our ever-loyal readers, to help us support The Classical. For those unfamiliar, The Classical intends to be more than another sports site. It will hopefully take sports writing to great new heights. A lot of people that we love, and most likely you love as well, are behind the Classical. Bethlehem Shoals of Free Darko fame, Ball Don’t Lie writer Eric Freeman, Lang Whitaker, and, Tom Scharpling, the host of “Best Show on WFMU”. That lineup, in addition to the other writers they’ve assembled so far, should have you giddy with excitement. If it didn’t, get yourself to a doctor ASAP, as you probably don’t have a pulse.
We want to help The Classical reach their Kickstarter goal and at the same time be able to help you, the loyal reader. Starting today, we’re going to donate a percentage of NBA Off Season merch sales to The Classical. So, get a cool shirt and help support a great cause. It’s a win-win situation. If you’re not interested in a shirt, please donate to this great cause on Kickstarter.
SPOILER ALERT: I hate myself for doing this, because I really did like The Future, and I know that this was kind of the point of the whole film. But would it have been so hard to murder off those people at the end instead of that adorable metaphysical talking cat?
A. and I go for a walk in Seward Park, typically one of the least Seattle-y places in Seattle. She makes frequent stops because 1) she’s pregnant (very Seattle) and 2) berries abound, making Seward Park prime territory for URBAN FORAGING (ultra-Seattle). Toward the end of the loop, which is taking us forever, two able-bodied dudes passing us notice A. rooting around the brambles. She is getting all the ripe stuff! They go up about fifteen feet, fiddle with some blackberries, and then loudly announce “Oh, the berries here are still about a week away.” MOST SEATTLE THING EVER!
Don’t bother with “Shark Week jumped the shark”. That was done in 2004. However, I’m pretty sure that no one has yet proposed Shark Week as shark. It’s 24 years old, which means it has run (swam?) the in/out gauntlet and hardened into tradition, or optimized fact. Shark Week, like the beast itself, is perfect at what it does. Nothing brings together the disparate threads of basic cable like Shark Week: Nature, testosterone, adventure, minor celebrities, extreme dudehood, reality programming, and childish wonder without the slightest bit of guilt. Once they discovered the leaping Great Whites, it was all over. It will outlive cable television itself.