Emails from Mavs Fans...

[LEONARD]

http://www.quickdfw.com/columnists/gkeith/stories/DN-pg3--gordoncolumn_22ick.ART.State.Edition1.2206249.html

I think some Mavs fans are losing it!!

[Shank]

I think Todd....errrr, "Gordon" wrote those.

[pussyface]

good God that was funny.
Gordon can do it in print also, I guess.

Love the one about planning the dirty bomb prevention in major city block party.

[LEONARD]

good God that was funny.
Gordon can do it in print also, I guess.

Love the one about planning the dirty bomb prevention in major city block party.

He's a genius whether it's thinking on his feet or writing...

http://www.quickdfw.com/columnists/gkeith/vitindex.html

The 1st few are about the Mavs...

[ALVAREZ6]

:lol

[mabber]

"Next season, can we paint the basketballs blue?"
:lol :lol :lol :lol :lol :lol

[awmyplace]

"Next season, can we paint the basketballs blue?"
:lol :lol :lol :lol :lol :lol

Lol!

[Carie]

"Next season, can we paint the basketballs blue?"
:lol :lol :lol :lol :lol :lol
:lol

I actually have a blue and green signed Mavs ball, from way back when they sucked. Correction, JOHN has one.

[ShoogarBear]

Those were pretty good.

I think the first one was real.

[LEONARD]

While in Miami for games 3-5...

"Can't help staring at women? It's only natural"

11:26 AM CDT on Thursday, June 15, 2006 By GORDON KEITH

As two basketball teams battle on the court for the NBA title, there is another, more important battle raging. Does Dallas have hotter women than Miami?

As you read this, I am in Miami, staying right on the beach of the Atlantic Ocean. As I look down from my ninth floor balcony at the azure water and cream-colored beaches, I can only think one thing: "I hope that girl doesn't report my stare and unnatural movements ..."

Oh, the beach can be special torture for a man. When I was a boy, around the age of 13, I became aware of one of the most confusing sexual truths. If I see a girl in her full support bra and granny-panties, she will cover herself and scream. But if I see her in a thong bikini, she will be nonchalant as I look for a throw pillow and an excuse to remain seated.

I am the only guy here on Miami Beach sitting among throw pillows.

I wonder if women ever contemplate how hard it is to be a man, having to stare at them all the time. In fact, yesterday I walked into a traffic pole while bird-dogging the bouncing globes of a raven-haired girl. I think I recovered well. I smiled at her as she passed, my teeth outlined in blood.

In Miami, the women have a slow natural eroticism, unlike Highland Park women, who are wonderfully unnatural, like sprinkled cupcakes. I love Dallas women too, but as far as I can tell, the only thing they have in common with Miami women is their aversion to me.

And that's unfortunate. For I am probably the best human to ever live. That sounds bad, doesn't it, with the split infinitive and all. You see, I am a kind and giving romancer.

Last night, I wrote a poem to the juggy girl that hangs out by the pool. The title rhymed with "a tale of two cities." But she took what was supposed to be a tribute and turned it into something ugly.

At least hotel management thought so.

Come to think of it, I have always had bad luck with love poems. Most poems I have written to women have been seized by prosecutors and retitled cold things like "Exhibit A."

No matter how impressive the women are here in Miami, I find that I can't wait to return to Dallas, where the rejection is just as real, but the breasts are oh-so-beautifully fake.