Whitt's End: 6.24.11

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Whether you've reached the end of your rope or merely the end of your week, welcome to Whitt's End:

*Love the Mavs' draft. Turning the 26th pick into Rudy Fernandez is a big win. Think of Fernandez, 26 and a three-year veteran with the Blazers, as a younger, better Peja Stojakovic. Dallas often fibs about new players being "rotation guys" -- see Dominique Jones, circa 2010 -- but Fernandez can play. Right now. Besides, DeShawn Stevenson and Peja are free agents and Corey Brewer added nada this year. Bueno.

*Dirk Nowitzki will throw out the first pitch tonight before Rangers-Mets in Arlington. Here's hoping he receives a bigger ovation than the one regularly reserved for Dubya Bush.

*Josh Hamilton says the reason for the disparity in his production between day and night games -- .122 to .374 -- is the color of his eyes. I'm not making that up. As someone with blue eyes, that's a load of bullshit. Somehow blue-eyed Joe Mauer hits .321 in the sunlight. Two words: Sun. Glasses.

*If you hear a new voice at Cowboys Stadium next year filling in for veteran public address man Jody Dean, it just might be 105.3 The Fan's Roger Emrich. Just write his name down and keep it handy.

*Dear Dallas Morning News, please stop. I don't need you any more. I don't want you any more. I've tried to cancel my subscription since March. When I got my bill I sent it back with a "cancel" notification. But for the last three months -- at least 10 times per week -- one of your representatives has called me to remind me my payment was due and urging me to re-up, all the while continuing to toss an unwanted paper in my yard each morning. When I say cancel, you tell me I can continue subscription with those reps but they somehow don't have the ability to cancel me. On your website I'm allowed to make changes to delivery service, but not an ultimate cancellation of service. So I call the 1-800 number you direct me to and I've yet to speak with a live human. Thursday -- swear, I have witnesses and a phone bill -- I was on hold for 38 minutes. Smells to me like you have an army of folks who can badger me into continuing my service, but only one assigned to handle cancellations. And he apparently only works Sunday nights 11:45-11:46. There was a time when I began each morning reading the DMN while listening to The Ticket. I've grown out of both.



*Hey, whatever happened to Charlie Sheen?

*Mark Cuban will pay the $340,000 bill for last week's championship parade. I'd say the majority of that was to ensure stuff didn't happen rather than stuff that did happen.

*Was driving on 75 south Thursday behind an 18-wheel rock-hauler. The protective tarp on its trailer had come undone and was flapping around while cars behind it were sprayed with a combo of pebbles, dust and rock. On the back of the contraption: a sign that read "Not responsible for flying rock, debris or broken windshields." Good try, but I'm pretty sure you are. Otherwise I'd just drive around with a sign that read "Not responsible for wrecks" while playing bumper cars with folks who drive like assholes.

*Men are pigs and voyeurs and exploit women and yadda, yadda and more yadda. All I know is, out of the four girls I heard respond to this tattoo of Dirk's face on a guy's butt, three of the initial reactions were "Nice ass!"

*Be still my beating heart: 105 days until the Stars open the NHL season at home against Chicago. Who's their coach again, Nastia Liukin?

*Went to my buddy's 50th birthday bash last night. We toasted him with 50-year-old wine and some vintage bottle from 1982. While most of the dudes reacted as if their mouth just orgasmed, I didn't get it. Tasted like the stuff I have in the box on my counter right now. I think what I'm trying to say is that I ain't real sophisticated.

*I also don't get the thrill of hunting. Or the supposed accomplishment/achievement. You're in a boat on the Trinity River and you see a giant alligator swimming and minding his own business and you shoot it. And somehow you beat your chest over it? Just weird, man. Jump in and wrestle it to death? Effin' A. Impressive. But shooting it? Yawn.

*Any surprise that two days after the Mavs' championship parade Dirk was back at it? Said he started doing cardio last weekend and this week got out onto the tennis court a couple times. He promises to go a full month without picking up a basketball, but I doubt it.

*Gays, grannies and grandes = Giggle. I have gay friends, I respect my elders and fat folks need love to. But his rant is kinda funny. Dude should not be fired. Right?

*ESPN had the "breaking news" this morning that the U.S. women's soccer team had arrived in Germany for next week's World Cup. It's been 12 years since Brandi Chastain scored the winning goal and ripped off her jersey in the Rose Bowl. It was supposed to revolutionize women's soccer. Has it? Didn't think so. The only time we're aware of women's sports is when ESPN crowbars it into other stuff we actually want to watch. Title Nein.

*I have the ability to be a jerk, but I also have multiple hidden soft spots in my heart. One of those this weekend is reserved for long-time friend and former Duncanville High School classmate Tracy Trygstad Posey. On Valentine's Day "Trigger" was diagnosed with breast cancer. Her prognosis is good, as is her mood. Friends are holding a benefit Sunday 2-8 p.m. at Fat Daddy's in Waxahachie. I have a previous work commitment, but I'll be there in spirit.

*This weekend: Saturday I'll be at Vandergriff Honda 11-1 shaking hands, kissing babies and -- oh, who am I kidding? -- being a dork nobody gives a dang about. Saturday afternoon I'm going to dust off the racquet and play in a tennis tournament at Canyon Creek Country Club in Richardson. Sunday let's hop aboard the 105.3 The Fan boat on ... Lake Texoma. Even outta town, don't be a stranger.

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