An ode to the nothingness of this final week

Like a man crawling through the desert begging for water… I am a blogger crawling through the internet begging for a new story line.  I'm parched.  And my dehydration has led to a wild delirium which has manifested itself thusly.

A new day dawns,
with stretches and yawns,
and yearning for the Green.

From bed I lurch,
and begin my search,
and find stories I've already seen.

From KG's knee,
to the back up 3,
and Rajon Rondo's deal.

Can Giddens play?
Will Ray Allen stay?
and does Sweetney ever miss a meal?

Pierce is skinny,
this ain't KG from Minny,
and Perk has lost some bulk.

More three's from Eddie,
seriously… is KG's knee ready?
and really… Sweets looks like he ate the Hulk.

Second unit jelling,
practices full of yelling,
and what's that tape on KG's shin?

How many techs for Sheed?
what's our back up point need?
and how many games are we gonna win?

Rasheed's guarantees,
Shelden and Marquis,
and a bunch of crazy statistics.

Lineups short and tall,
we've seen it all,
and I'm starting to go kinda ballistic.

It's all been written
cuz we're all smitten
with dreams of title parades.

But the story's been told
it's all getting old
the ideas are all a bit played.

So I'm begging father time,
in the form of this rhyme
for a favor… within reason.

Can we skip ahead 7 days,
break through this malaise…
And just start the goddamned season?

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