I only used the above image of Los Angeles Lakers forward Ron Artest showing off his new jersey because I still can’t believe that a grown man changed his name to Metta World Peace. But hey, he’s the millionaire and if I ever gain similar wealth, I already know that I’ll change my name to Poops Stinkerson and wear only diapers when I go out drinking. That’s the American dream, right?

As for Artest’s team, well the Lakers aren’t showing off the other new jerseys they thought they’d have by now. And they want everyone to know that they won’t be pushed around by these small market bullies anymore either. Not only did the Lakers pull out of their three-way trade with New Orleans and Houston, but now they’re telling teams that they’re not going to give up all of their average players just to get their measly superstars in return.

… and believe they can acquire a new third big man to play behind Andrew Bynum and Pau Gasol. That is the challenge for Mitch Kupchak and Jim Buss on the front-burner, while still simmering is their desire to have Dwight Howard from Orlando.

I’m told the Lakers will not be trading Bynum and Gasol for Howard.

(Via The OC Register)

I’m actually impressed by this fakery, or at least my wacky perception of it. Ideally, the Lakers know that Dwight Howard and Chris Paul want out of their current sucky teams and Podunk cities. They know that these mega stars want to play in L.A. So why the hell should they even flinch when Orlando suddenly says, “Well we decided that we’ll trade him, but we want the guy you’re about to trade to Houston”?

This is why the Lakers will always win. It sucks and it’s unfair, and maybe I live in a fantasy world in which I believe that one day stars will be loyal, but at least now I’m accepting it. In the meantime, Dwight Howard hilariously admitted that he wanted to be more involved with the Magic’s terrible player decisions over the last 5 years, and he will probably get his wish when he tells the Lakers, “F*ck ‘em, send Luke Walton.”

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Last night, it was like Twitter had a stroke. Tens of thousands of sports writers, bloggers, fans and general morons were going bananas over the reports that Chris Paul had been traded to the Los Angeles Lakers. The first report, which could have caused riots if true, described the trade as a straight-up deal between the Lakers – giving up Lamar Odom and Pau Gasol – and New Orleans Hornets for Chris Paul. Had that been true, David Stern and Hornets GM Dell Demps would probably be in hiding right now.

Then the correction came in – Andrew Bynum and Odom for Chris Paul. A little better, but still nonsense in the eyes of most middle market fans. That couldn’t be the best deal the Hornets could get, and thankfully it wasn’t. The final, actual deal came in – Paul to the Lakers, Gasol to the Houston Rockets, and Odom, Kevin Martin, Goran Dragic and Luis Scola to the Hornets. Even then, nobody was pleased, and it turns out the league owners were the least pleased of all, because they said, “F*ck a bunch of that” and within two hours this blockbuster was squashed.

Why, you ask? Well, it’s complicated.

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I would love to point to the Lakers’ win over the Suns in Game 2 of the Western Conference finals as Exhibit A of why Kobe Bryant is better than LeBron James. Of how Kobe wills his team to victories while James pouts in the corner when he’s not dribbling off his foot. Of how Kobe’s Lakers can close out a series while James’ Cavs seem to do anything but. But I can’t. I can’t because the game doesn’t fall on Kobe’s shoulders every night. He has so much help around him.

He has Pau Gasol, who led all scorers in Game 2 with 29 points (Kobe had 21). It’s no coincidence that the Lakers finally managed to get deep into the playoffs once Gasol came to LA in 2008 in a trade so lopsided that it looked like the product of a Michael J. Fox pottery class. In the three years between Shaquille O’Neal’s departure to Miami and Gasol’s arrival, the Lakers missed the playoffs once and were bounced from the first round twice.

He has Lamar Odom, who responded to Amare’ Stoudamire’s claim of enjoying a “lucky” Game 1 (19 points, 19 rebounds) with 17 points and 11 boards in Game 2. He has Andrew Bynum; that’s three teammates of Kobe’s that are seven feet or taller. He has a Hall Of Fame coach and an owner that doesn’t resent treating him like the superstar that he is. Oh and Ron Artest and his 33 minutes per game weren’t a terrible offseason addition, either.

The Lakers should be destroyin’ fools, but as the Book of LeBron has taught us, establishing expectations and meeting them are two entirely different animals. But really, if Phoenix doesn’t step it on their own floor in Game 3, they should just cancel Game 4 and send LA to the Finals. Not that such a measure would be necessary. After all, LeBron was the one that couldn’t close out a series.

Lakers’ big man Pau Gasol will be making a guest appearance on an episode of the CBS drama “CSI: Miami” set to air next month. A Spanish basketball player acting on American television. That sounds like *puts on sunglasses* a tall order. YEEEAAAHHHH!!!

“It was a very attractive opportunity. I play Victor, a normal person who is involved in a car accident and police are suspicious that I am responsible for what happened. I have good, meaty dialogue with an officer,” he told daily newspaper El Pais. –AFP.

Meaty dialogue! Normal person! You know, a normal 7-foot Spaniard walking around Miami pulling his eyelids away from his face and muttering things like, “Mee ruv yoo rong time!” That’s the kind of programming we need more of on prime time–baseless Asian stereotyping from Europeans. Hey, that’s how we wound up with “The Office.”

Fellow Spaniards Pau Gasol and Rafael Nadal star in this watch ad where they fling balls at each other's faces, presumably to win the affections of a hot lady with a cool box. Interesting stratagem. This commercial is apparently from a while ago, but it's new to the English-speaking world and, hey, Nadal just won the French Open and Gasol is playing shitty in the NBA Finals, so it's just relevant enough to work. And their last names rhyme. People love things that rhyme, like cock and Alfred Prufrock.

Since I don't speak Spanish, I'm assuming the hot chick says "Guys getting balls to the face makes me hot. If you do that, you can touch my box. It has expensive watches in it." They do so, whereupon they retire to the sexing boat, where the woman beds Gasol, but rejects Nadal for wearing that fruity sleeveless shirt.