So Kobe Bryant scored like 17 points in the last half of the first quarter sorry that's a confusing way of describing it. Anyhoodle, a play late in the opening period saw Bryant fake his defender into the air to then step in and take the contact, while contorting to get a nice look at a 3, which he hit. It's breathtaking on its face; when you consider his determination to silence the Orlando crowd that only seconds before exploded following a Dwight Howard alley-oop, it's borderline expressionistic. Or whatever's weirder than surreal. Like David Lynch movies when an old lady tells a can of creamed corn to stop speaking in code. 

The point is that Bryant is playing like historic awesome every night. I've been a follower of Bryant's since his first post-Shaq year. Yeah when you wake up one day and Kwame Brown is on your team in exchange for Caron Butler, I say just get injured cuz shit sucks balls. But Bryant pressed on, and I learned what people were talking about when describing him. It's no coincidence that I've been rocking my Testament mix (3 hours great god) while watching the finals. I imagine I'm missing some choice shit since of the six people with access to broadcast mics during the games, two are Van Gundys, but Testament is so Lakers to me. Each was sent each into a decline by a high-profile departure. But this season is the Lakers' return to glory, like The Gathering, the album with which Testament wiped away three increasingly not-cutting-it albums -- four if The Ritual hasn't wormed into and laid eggs all over your heart. It's like heavy Aerosmith, especially on "Troubled Dreams" (above), a furious march that closes the album and prophesies the coming of a benevolent and burdened basketball mega-god named Kobe Bryant.
Thursday is Game 4 and Testament at House of Whites. See?

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