Tale of the Tape

Fighting out of the Blue corner. Standing 6 feet and 11 inches tall. Weighing in at an impressive 270 pounds. The former first overall pick in the NBA draft. Kwame...... BROOOOOOOOWWWWN! And fighting out of the Red corner. Also standing 6 feet and 11 inches tall. But weighing in at a slightly less impressive 265 pounds. Dwiiiiiiggghhht... HOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here at 120, we've been wondering something. If you put Kwame and Dwight next to each other, you wouldn't really notice much of a physical difference between them. In fact, since Kwame is 5 pounds heavier and visibly yoked, you could argue that Kwame is in fact slightly more buff than Dwight. So how the hell is it that one guy is at or near the top of the league in scoring, field goal percentage, rebounds, blocks, groupies banged after the game, and has more than twice as many dunks this season as the duo who was tied for second (Andrew Bynum and Chris Wilcox) before yesterday's Lakers vs. Magic game. And the other guy averages a 120 Proofian 5 points and 5 boards a game, and wouldn't know how to dunk a donut into a cup of chocolate milk. Physically, the two are virtually identical. They shoot free throws with equal diabolicy. Neither has particularly soft hands, and both could use a little smoothing around the edges as far as the finer points of the game go. Well, we'll tell you. And it's also the exact same reason why Kwame is a fixture on the 120 Proof list of....favorite....120 Proof...dudes.... or at least he will be if we ever get off our asses and make such a list. Hard work. He's completely opposed to it. And so are we. I mean, who really wants to be the next (and skinnier) Shaquille O'Neal when you can rake in 9 million a year to do things like wing birthday cake at a Lamar Odom fan?

The following is not funny. We pride ourselves on being pretty much bottom-of-the-barrel when it comes to tact and standards. But not even we can sink to a level low enough to find humor in this. As we're sure you all know, Washington Redskins' defensive back Sean Taylor was tragically shot to death in his home last week, by four dudes who should really have their nuts cut off and fed to them. But that's beside the point. In one of the more poignant tributes a team has ever given to a fallen comrade, the Skins started their first defensive series playing with only ten men, metaphorically giving Taylor one last play on his beloved football field. Here at 120, that's what we call "Good Shit."

Normally, we'd make a tasteless joke here about drinking beer with an empty bottle accross the table in tribute if either Todd or I die prematurely. Then we looked at the table and saw 14 empty bottles of various domestic piss. And besides, it's unnecessary to take anything at all away from what amounts to a tremendous and touching gesture, for Taylor, his family, his memory, and the fans who loved to cheer for him.

Apparently they're dropping like flies. ESPN reports that New York Knicks' guard Stephon Marbury's father passed away during the Knicks' loss to Phoenix on Sunday night, shortly after leaving Madison Square Garden with chest pains. This is only the latest in what has been a tough year for Marbury, with the death of his aunt earlier this year, embarrassing testimony about banging an intern in the back of a truck, fans booing him lustily at home, but now this? The most unfortunate thing here is that Marbury continued to play, completely unaware that his dad was ill. Apparently, he didn't take it too seriously when his dad said, "If I see you huck one more three instead of passing to the open cutter in the lane, it will be the death of me." There's no truth to the rumor that the dad's of Antoine Walker and Ron Artest are being watched more closely to....what? Ron Artest's daughter has kidney cancer!? What the hell!? We can't make fun of a guy who's daughter has cancer! Come on, God!!! Throw us a bone here!! Thanks for having a shot of 120 Proof. No, God, not you. Our fans. Or fan, as it may be. Although if God wanted to join us for a shot, who would we be to refuse?