Open Letter to Dan Gilbert…Don’t Cry! There Will Other Boys. I Promise.

It it me or is Dan Gilbert sounding like he has a bit of a crush on Lebron James? (click here) I know absolutely nothing about basketball…but I know a jilted bitch when I see one. And clearly Dan Gilbert is acting like he gave it up to Lebron…in the car…on their first date…before dinner…and now Lebron is going to the prom with the pretty, popular girl with the big tits and scuffed up knees.

I wasn’t interested in this nonsense until I saw the open letter from Dan Gilbert. That shit is a mess. Dan, dude. He’s a kid. You created a monster and now you’re mad at the monster…for being a douchebag?

Don’t get me wrong – I’m as annoyed as any grown ass man or woman could be about all this damn hype for no reason at all. I don’t give a damn who the man plays for when all I can see is a bunch of grown ass men gettin’ paid po’ folks money to play a game while most of America struggles to make ends meet. The T.V. show thing was just one more nail in pop culture’s coffin. The backlash is a-comin’! So, we should blame ourselves – this King James debacle is the result of our insatiable interest in the celebrities and their lifestyle. We’ve got them trained to tell us what they’re doing every minute of every day. Look at me, think about me, deal with me, follow me…ME! ME! ME! Yayyy, Me! (BTW, click here to follow ME on Twitter) When you combine that kinda of self-involvement with technology and reality tv…well, let’s just say, “There’s an app for that!”  iNarcississt.

Anyway, back to Dan and his diary entry – dude, the boy is only twenty five years old. He don’t know what the hell he be doin’! Y’know, I feel sorry for these kids who hit big so early. They hire folks to create an image. That image becomes an empire. And this random snot-nosed kid is suddenly the CEO of a company and a brand. We all buy into it. Before you know it, we can’t tell the difference between the image and the idiot. They got a team of great writers who give ‘em a stellar vocabulary, provocative lines and compelling lyrics. Meanwhile, left to their own devices, everyone they talk to nods sympathetically and makes a mental note to donate more money to the Special Olympics. I mean, really! Did you even know who you were at 25? I didn’t. If I had to decide who I was then so a multi-million dollar image could be crafted from it…well, let’s just say that I probably would have learned the hard way that that Britney Spears-type crazy is only cute when a white girl does it. Just ask Whitney Houston. That shit don’t come in brown or black.

For as much as these kids are more advanced, more burdened, more bulbous, more sexual, more fertile, more jaded…they have yet to become “more smarter.” Time after time, they prove that virtual experience will never replace the wisdom you acquire by living life in front of people rather than in front of screens.

Dan, so that you know for next time you give it up too quick, decorum calls for you to simply thank the offender for his contribution thus far, smile graciously and walk away in peace. Then later after sending a handwritten Thank You card on your best stationary, you call your girls for midnight martinis, hack into his Facebook and have him “come out of the closet” and then egg his car while he’s asleep. The open letter thing was just so unattractive. There are rules that govern this type of thing…otherwise, you just have anarchy.


3 thoughts on “Open Letter to Dan Gilbert…Don’t Cry! There Will Other Boys. I Promise.

  1. I couldn’t care less about basketball myself, but I followed your lead to see who you were slapping up (LOL) … and you’re right. Mr. James is a showboat and the Cleveland owner falls right into it, playing it up instead of down. LeBron now gets to play in Miami with his two favorite buds from the USA national team. And five will get you ten, they’re all showboats and there’s gonna be some ego clash. The little dream team will fall apart. Just like the Beatles. And Cream. And … you know … anywhere there’s too much talent to fit into a single room.

    The big problem is, the Cavaliers’ sparkplug is gone. And owner Dan has to tell the other (what’s the word? homies?) to suck it up. So what does he do? Ratchets up the rhetoric so the team can believe in something. Like playing for revenge. And honor. And glory. And … did you notice he even said you had to die, to get to heaven?

    Poor Cleveland. I hope by the time the recession is over, they don’t have to move in with Detroit.

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