phlegmatic [fleg-mat-ik] adj. 1. not easily excited to action or display of emotion; apathetic; sluggish 2. self-possessed, calm, or composed 3. of the nature of or abounding in the humor phlegm
Horace (65 BC), Mary Queen of Scots (1542), William C. Durant (1861), Diego Rivera (1886), Sammy Davis Jr. (1925), Jimmy Smith (1925), Flip Wilson (1933), David Carradine (1936), Jim Morrison (1943), Gregg Allman (1947), Gérard Blanc (1947), Bill Bryson (1951), Kim Basinger (1953), Roy Firestone (1953), Sam Kinison (1953), Ann Coulter (1961), Greg Howe (1963), Teri Hatcher (1964), Sinéad O’Connor (1966), Dominic Monaghan (1976)
Last night, I watched Allen Iverson’s triumphant return to the Philadelphia 76ers. OK. Well. I watched about 15 minutes of it until I turned on the ultimately disappointing Flyers-Canadiens game.
But, arguably, I watched the most important part of the Sixers-Nuggets game: the introductory hoopla. Philadelphia, a city that three years ago was collectively shoving Iverson out of town, welcomed him home like no one ever wanted him to go anywhere.
The Wachovia Center was sold-out for a basketball game for the first time this year. Actually, the entire crowd last night almost doubled the total sum of the first eight home games. The starting lineup announcements were conducted in a way a 5-15 team, under any other circumstances, could never gotten away with. After being introduced, Iverson ran out to the 76ers logo at half-court, kneeled down and kissed it. (The crowd cheered like that was totally normal.)
Iverson seemed truly happy. And I, for one, was truly happy for him. I never disliked the guy. I was always in his corner and have been a huge supporter of his return to Philadelphia.
I’ve had about 349 conversations about Iverson since he left town. Each and every time, I was told I was wrong. He was a poison. He was a selfish player. He was a thug. He had to go.
While I never subscribed the above statements, I always granted them creedence. I figured everyone hated Iverson because he was an asshole. Also, I was pretty sure I liked him for the same exact reason.
What I’m having trouble digesting is why,all of a sudden, everyone gives a shit about (a) the Sixers, and (b) Iverson himself.
I need to collect my thoughts on this one. TO BE CONTINUED.
In the meantime, what’s your take?
I used to be friends with Miles Davis. He didn’t like many folks. I lived across the street from him. He would call me up sometimes — “I got some fish I wanna cook up for ya.” I went up there, and he was on a couch, looking out the window. He was just rapt. I said, “What’re you watching, Miles?” He said, “The traffic. Where are all these motherfuckers goin’?” → Rip Torn
In the interest of getting to know someone better, I’ve recently been exposed to more Belle and Sebastian. I was told by that someone “Get Me Away From Here, I’m Dying” is the band’s best song. Turned out to be the truth.
→ After being complete cocks about music piracy and crying about how much money they were losing, it turns out the major record labels (Warner, Sony BMG, EMI and Universal) have been doing a little looting of their own. Justice? Maybe. Well, probably.
→ While I’m of the opinion most people are complete dolts and unknowingly ruining society, there’s an awful, evil flipside. It appears there are enough smart individuals out there doing what they can to not be outdone by the morons. Case in point? This whole Miranda nonsense in The Supreme Court.
→ While I love to point out the inane crap dominating the media these days, I have an actual pleasure when I read some genuinely good news. Drunk driving deaths in the US are, statistically, on a downward turn. Good job, nitwits. I’m pleased some of you might be coming to your senses.