Knicks Management and Paris in the 20s

We've discussed any number of times on these pages the incompetence of James Dolan, Knicks owner and self-absorbed blues singer.  Mies van der Rohe said God is in the details, and that seems as good a place to start as any when discussing Saturday night's Hawks game.

I refer specifically to the choice of uniform color by the home team ...

Are you kidding me?  Atlanta in red, New York in red-ish orange.  No wonder the Knicks were constantly passing the ball to the Hawks instead of each other.  Who can tell who apart?  The refs should have stopped the game and made one of the teams take off their jerseys, thus going skins and shirts.  Which, I can promise you from extensive experience, is a perfectly fine way to play basketball.

I watched part of the game on a substandard television (I wasn't home) and if I hadn't been familiar with the Knicks roster I honestly would have had a hard time telling what the hell was up.

I'm going to spare you another video of James Dolan fronting his band JD & the Straight Shot, or something like that.  But it's clear to me that he's a better blues singer than he is a sports owner.

I can smell the coffee and donuts.
What?
I said I can smell coffee and donuts.
What does that even mean?
It means that you've obviously been to a meeting of Commas Anonymous.
You're referring to the second paragraph?
Yes.  Your restraint in not setting "specifically" off with commas is admirable.
Thank you.  I thought I'd man up and just bull my way through.
Bravo.
I've been reading a book called "Paris Wife" -- a fictionalized memoir about Hadley Hemingway, her husband Ernest, and their time in Paris.
Gertrude Stein and all that.
Exactly.
Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald.
Nicely said.
And you were feeling the muscularity of Hemingway's writing and just felt the spirit.
Yes.
How do you feel?
Exhausted.  No wonder he shot himself in the head.