Poor Link looks like he was hit with a chloroform rag (this kind of shit happens ev-er-y day in Wrestling, after all), driven to the lake and left for dead. His face is a mask of confusion and betrayal, with a touch of indignation.

I can relate.

I mean, that’s what this lockout is like for those of us who can’t live without Basketball: the most depressing of all fates we could possibly suffer.

Bad enough that we’re forced to endure a shitstorm of “NBA player X has signed to play in Foreign country Y” stories or ESPN’s asinine team previews for a season that likely isn’t happening, featuring rosters that would change dramatically if there was a resolution to the lockout. It’s the height of insanity, and yet they soldier on with the nonsense, ostensibly since they can’t just up and fire all their NBA writers or whatever.

I’d love it if someone could make it stop.

Look, I know I can subsist on Baseball, Football, Boxing, and the professional Yo-yo tour, among other things. I watched athe bulk of Little League World Series this weekend and I love that shit, truly. Every single game ends with one team celebrating deliriously and the other crying in mass. That’s drama, if you ask me. Yeah, College Basketball will be here in November and Cain Velasquez will fight Junior Dos Santos and the World Series will feature four-hour long suspense marathons and Verne Lundquist will drool all over somebody’s hotshit college QB and I’ll watch it all, and love most of it.

Still, it ain’t Pro Hoops. She’s the only one I really want, if you get my drift.

Ah, who am I kidding? This winter is gonna be like a mouthful of sores. That ain’t no fun.

Follow the Sons on twitter:!/sonofsambowie


Missing Link is from a long-since-gone era of Wrestling where you could enjoy these fantastically illogical gimmick characters without being burdened by such thoughts as “how does this supposedly crazy guy from the swamp have the wherewithal to apply perfect make-up or purchase steroids or hit the tanning salon four times a week, all year ’round?”.

Of course, it being 9 years old when I saw this stuff didn’t hurt either.


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