License to Ill

[Before we begin, an update: I've received exactly 2 e-mails from readers interested in becoming Psychedelic Kimchi regulars Ulrichs. Needless to say, I'm a bit disappointed. Barring a turnaround, Kimchi Psychedelia's new writer will be none other than Professor Isaac. I don't have to tell you that that scenario won't be pretty.]

Let's get down to it, Boppers...

It was a good run while it lasted. Before approximately 2:10 this afternoon, I hadn't been sick since last March (which is quite a feat, considering that I routinely lick my hands after using public toilets). But when it rains, it pours. I have a feeling this one will be a doozy. So please be forewarned, in case there's no new content here for a couple of days: I might be dead.

Who will eulogize me? Is there heaven for a gangster?

A high school friend's father had the right idea: whenever he came down with the flu, he'd retire to his room, wrap himself in a wool blanket, and consume a Polish sausage and a 350ml bottle of whisky before bed. I tried it once, and it works. I wasn't sick at the time, but that's splitting hairs. Unfortunately for me, I polished off the last of the 3 bottles of Crown Royal my mother gave me when she visited last August. My guess is that soju's homeopathic qualities are considerably less virile. It's worth a shot, though, I suppose.

Some random thoughts on the eve of my passing:

1) What are the blank pages commonly found at the end of most paperback books for? This question has plagued me my entire life.

2) In case you haven't heard, Darko Milicic may by this time tomorrow be a member of the Orlando Magic (again, don't you just hate it that Orlando chose to name their team an uncountable noun? It would have saved me a lot of time had I written "In case you haven't heard, Darko Milicic may by this time tomorrow no longer be a Piston," but I refuse to out of protest). Also, Isiah Thomas is trying to land Steve Francis. Oh, Isiah, you're predictability is surpassed only by your stupidity.

Here's how I understand things: the Knick's payroll is roughly the same as the GDP of my home country, Canadia. In an effort to relieve some of this, the Knicks traded Antonio Davis to the Raptors for Jalen Rose, who, not surprisingly, has a huge fucking contract. Makes sense so far. Now -- because Isiah's all about planning for the future rather than winning a couple more games in a meaningless Knicks season -- he's trying to pick up Stevie Franchise-Killer in exchange for up to three of the Knick's top young prospects. Savvy.

I mean, it's not as though their future draft picks belong to other teams, right?

Of course, Stephon Marbury and Francis will meld together and create the most fearsome backcourt tandem the league has ever seen. In other news, North Korea will drop its nuclear weapons' program for half a pack of Mentos, and MC Hammer will this year drop the most influential hip-hop album since Paid In Full ( http://gorillamask.net/hammerlook.shtml).

3) Here's the Pringles guy's (Mr. Pringles?) Mexican doppelganger:



I'm going to state that these cost less than half the price of a can of Pringles, and let you figure out the joke on your own, you redneck sonuvabitch.

(The chips are from Malaysia, by the way. I did a little research and discovered that the Mustachioed Mexican narrowly beat out the Big-Lipped Botswanan in a nationwide poll.)