I have not yet heard from Win Butler about returning my basketball player (Paul Davis of the Los Angeles Clippers). Mr. Butler, if you're feeling guilty about stealing my basketball player, you can reach me through this blog. Also, if Regine Chassagne is reading this, please use your hurdy-gurdy skills to convince Win Butler to return my basketball player to me.
But since I haven't been able to feed him, he's probably getting hungry. Win Butler, please feed my Basketball player. He like fresh produce, Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Orange Chicken, but hates sausages and indian food. We all know basketball players get grumpy when they're hungry, and my basketball player is no different.
Please don't take him back to Canada with you. He wont adjust well to the harsher climate.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Monday, June 4, 2007
Win Butler Needs To Give Me My Basketball Player back
I recently came into contact with Win Butler.
I am the proud owner of a basketball player. Frequently, I take him out to play basketball or go for a walk or sometimes to ride in go-carts at a go-cart track. He really enjoys that, despite the fact that he is very tall, far too tall for go-carts. But you try convincing a basketball player he's too big for fun! It can't be done.
Anyway, my basketball player and I were taking our weekly stroll to the Sunday farmers market near my small house that I share with my basketball player. He loves fresh produce and folk music, so we like to go every week.
Win Butler was there, checking out the melons and the root vegetables and the off-season peaches and the homemade candles. Unfortunately, being a very tall man, Win Butler was blocking my view of the vine ripened tomatoes that I use to make salads for my basketball player and myself. I very politely asked him to move.. He angrily refused. He told me, and this a quote:
"I love tomatoes! So fuck you."
Now I don't hold a love of tomatoes against anyone. But, come on Win Butler, we ALL love tomatoes! Also, it should be said, my basketball player was getting whiny and wanted to leave. He has a short attention span.
Apparently, some of Win Butler's friends and band mates were coming later for a tomato party, and he didn't want to give up the best ones. I said to him, I said "But, I just want some tomatoes!" But then he just yelled "church organ!" at me and looked angry.
I couldn't reason with Mr. Butler so I gave up. Two farmer's market supervisors tried to explain to Mr. Butler the market rules rules. Finally, a security guard arrived to talk him down. Mr. Butler was extremely agitated and animated during this entire episode. One of the other vendors (the guy who sells wheat grass and yams that he grows in his back yard) claims Mr. Butler pushed him but I did not witness this and frankly, the yam guy has been shown many times to be a liar. I haven't believed him since he told me yams are made of potatoes.
The standoff lasted about 457 minutes before Mr. Butler finally left, stuffing some leafy greens into his canvas, environmentally friendly satchel.
After I finished paying for my tomatoes and some impulsively bought rhubarb, I realized my basketball player was missing. I remembered last seeing him standing next to the dried fruit stand, eyeing some apricots, where Mr. Butler was purchasing some figs with a few other guys and one of the women who plays the violin.
I went to the info kiosk to ask if anyone had turned in a b-ball player. I described my ball player to the young woman (she had pink hair and librarian glasses and a Draft Gore shirt on) working the desk. I told her that my basketball player was 6'11", 270 lbs, 23 years old, played for Michigan State in college, was named Paul Davis and played for the Clippers. I made sure he was my basketball player so nobody would take him by mistake. He stands out.
She said: "The lead singer of Arcade Fire took your basketball player."
She recognized my basketball because he was holding him by the hand as he was yelling at her. Also, she was from Los Angeles and hates Kobe, so she was a Clippers fan.
So, in closing, Dear Win Butler: please give me my basketball player back. Or, barring that, how about an accordion. I know you've got one.
I am the proud owner of a basketball player. Frequently, I take him out to play basketball or go for a walk or sometimes to ride in go-carts at a go-cart track. He really enjoys that, despite the fact that he is very tall, far too tall for go-carts. But you try convincing a basketball player he's too big for fun! It can't be done.
Anyway, my basketball player and I were taking our weekly stroll to the Sunday farmers market near my small house that I share with my basketball player. He loves fresh produce and folk music, so we like to go every week.
Win Butler was there, checking out the melons and the root vegetables and the off-season peaches and the homemade candles. Unfortunately, being a very tall man, Win Butler was blocking my view of the vine ripened tomatoes that I use to make salads for my basketball player and myself. I very politely asked him to move.. He angrily refused. He told me, and this a quote:
"I love tomatoes! So fuck you."
Now I don't hold a love of tomatoes against anyone. But, come on Win Butler, we ALL love tomatoes! Also, it should be said, my basketball player was getting whiny and wanted to leave. He has a short attention span.
Apparently, some of Win Butler's friends and band mates were coming later for a tomato party, and he didn't want to give up the best ones. I said to him, I said "But, I just want some tomatoes!" But then he just yelled "church organ!" at me and looked angry.
I couldn't reason with Mr. Butler so I gave up. Two farmer's market supervisors tried to explain to Mr. Butler the market rules rules. Finally, a security guard arrived to talk him down. Mr. Butler was extremely agitated and animated during this entire episode. One of the other vendors (the guy who sells wheat grass and yams that he grows in his back yard) claims Mr. Butler pushed him but I did not witness this and frankly, the yam guy has been shown many times to be a liar. I haven't believed him since he told me yams are made of potatoes.
The standoff lasted about 457 minutes before Mr. Butler finally left, stuffing some leafy greens into his canvas, environmentally friendly satchel.
After I finished paying for my tomatoes and some impulsively bought rhubarb, I realized my basketball player was missing. I remembered last seeing him standing next to the dried fruit stand, eyeing some apricots, where Mr. Butler was purchasing some figs with a few other guys and one of the women who plays the violin.
I went to the info kiosk to ask if anyone had turned in a b-ball player. I described my ball player to the young woman (she had pink hair and librarian glasses and a Draft Gore shirt on) working the desk. I told her that my basketball player was 6'11", 270 lbs, 23 years old, played for Michigan State in college, was named Paul Davis and played for the Clippers. I made sure he was my basketball player so nobody would take him by mistake. He stands out.
She said: "The lead singer of Arcade Fire took your basketball player."
She recognized my basketball because he was holding him by the hand as he was yelling at her. Also, she was from Los Angeles and hates Kobe, so she was a Clippers fan.
So, in closing, Dear Win Butler: please give me my basketball player back. Or, barring that, how about an accordion. I know you've got one.
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