Jesus died so that we might pick and roll

I'm nearly overwhelmed by the nearly overwhelming response to my solicitation for guest columns in Mabel's stead. They've really been pouring in. Thank you! Let us begin with a true-life tale from Stubraham Lincoln. Oh, and for those of you that don't know, Broseph is betrothed to a lovely young woman who likes seafood and fresh vegetables. Most importantly, she does NOT like Aerosmith. The Snakins are big fans. More on this later. Keep the submissions coming!















It's official. I just finished the paper work to declare myself eligible for the NBA draft. This may come as a big surprise to some of you that know me. You are probably wondering why I would give up my four years of college eligibility (not to mention the remaining four years of high school eligibility). The reason is quite simple: $.

With marriage on the horizon, I feel it is time for me to grow up and step into financial independence. At first I thought I could be a teacher. It’s a noble profession with good health care. It sounds practical enough. The only problem: I hate children. So my search continued. I thought maybe I could be a doctor. Once again, it’s a noble profession, and it is health care. The only problem: I hate sick people.

At this point, I pondered making a triumphant return to the world of dry cleaning. Surely I would be the hottest free agent in the game, having an associate’s degree and all. This would lead to a bidding war between Plaza Ford Ideal and Tower Cleaners that very well could lead to me landing an hourly wage of $10.50 (a record high in the world of dry cleaning). The only problem: no health care. After ruling out dry cleaning, I’ve decided that there is only one option left. It is time that I live out my childhood dream and become an NBA superstar.

Of course, I am not good enough to play in the NBA. However, I am relatively skilled at the art of manipulation, so I have drawn up a four-point plan that will catapult my name onto the draft board and into the league.

1) Send out a press release declaring my eligibility. This gets my name out there. Typically, only a player who is going to get drafted announces it to the press.
2) Hire super-agent Drew Rosenhouse. The guy is a world class douche, but he’s always getting airtime on ESPN and could easily drop my name a few times in between airing T.O.s contract qualms.
3) Decline all media offers. At this point there will be a healthy buzz surrounding the Stu Snakin name, and newspapers and sport shows will want interviews. By declining such offers, the mystique will build.
4) Two weeks before the draft, I will release a list of teams I will not play for. People always want what they can’t have. This will bring the buzz to a fevered pitch. By the time draft day roles around, my name will be on the top of everyone's board. Teams will be trading up with the hopes of getting a shot at me.

Once I am drafted, I intend on meeting with no one from the team that drafts me until after a contract is signed and a check has been sent. I feel this is a foolproof plan. While I am unsure about the health care that basketball players receive, I'm pretty sure it doesn't really matter when you are making $20 million a year. See you in the league.