The Internet and old age rendered SLAM magazine irrelevant to me half a decade ago, but yours truly was recently put on blast on their online -- too many prepositions! Can't compute! -- edition, which you can peep here, and which serves as vindication that
(the Internet sometimes takes notice of even the lowliest of talent)
people in positions of notable rank read my basketball ramblings.
Props to SLAM and Sam Rubenstein.
(While you're here, it's only right that I admit to biting NOIZE for my game logs, although, to take a cue from Jay-Z, I've always believed I'm paying homage more than anything else.)
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