Seventy Grifters

 So... today's, um, basketball "game."

If you've been conned by a grifter once, that's on the grifter.

If it happens twice, that's maybe on you.

Three times?

You have to start to wonder if you *like* to be taken advantage of.

(By the way, this counts even if Boston goes on to win the championship. You tell me if they do; I'm done with the NBA for awhile. If my playoffs are watching Al Freaking Horford, Jimmy Butler after he got away, Jokic breaking through after he finally didn't win an MVP, and LeBron and the Laker fans for the 9 millionth time... I get it. Lakers-Celtics forever and it's Bill Simmons' world and we're just the idiots stepping on rakes.)

Blow this team up. Fire the coach. Toss the GM. Sell the team to owners that didn't hire all of these people. Play the young guys and lose 60+ games, it's better than this. Hell, move the team to Camden or Seattle for all I care right now.

I have too little time on this planet left to be grifted, over and over, by people who seem to care less about the games than I do. A lot less.

Don't go to their games anymore. Don't watch them on television. Don't give them an arena (dear God in heaven, don't do that). They are bad people, bad faith actors, and they've more or less made me stop liking the NBA. I feel stupid for watching today, and the only saving grace is I stopped watching sooner than usual.

Burn it down, or don't. Find another mark, you asshats. I'm out.