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Dear Dwight Howard, The Entire World Is Totally Sick Of You

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Dear Mr. Howard,

It’s come to our attention that, in the wake of all the bad press Lebron James received for his “Decision,” you’ve decided to completely absolve yourself from any decision-making whatsoever.

“I have no idea what I’m supposed to do…”

You’re inability to make any sort of judgement has led us, the viewing public, believe you are worse than a third-date when asked, “What do you want to do for dinner?”

If you were a first date, things would run smooth and easy because you wouldn’t have any say where we were taking you. The person who does the asking decides where the first date takes place, and because of your complete inaction when given any sort of choice, we know you would never have the nerve to ever make the first move.

On a second date, it might be implied that your opinion matters, but in the short of it, the person who did the initial asking would most likely still be responsible for planning and executing the night’s activity.

By the third date though, some responsibility begins to fall on you. Granted, it’s still early, and you’re most likely still trying to impress us by not eating everything on your plate then commenting how full you are, but come on. We’re beyond that. Yeah, we don’t really know each other, but we’ve fooled once or twice in the back of my parent’s Camry. We aren’t complete strangers. You should be able to express some sort of opinion. You can tell us you don’t want to eat at Five Guys one more time.

In fact, please tell us that. Please tell us that so we don’t drive around aimlessly until we find a place you think looks good, because let’s be honest, if we do that, if you don’t tell us what you want, we know you will never ever find a place that looks good enough.

“I just don’t know…”

To be fair, you recently expressed you would never sign another contract with the Magic ever again, but that was only after passing on your opt-out clause and saying you wanted to stay. This is after saying you only wanted to be traded to Brooklyn, that you would never sign an extension if traded to the Lakers or Rockets, but okay, maybe I would sign with the Lakers, wait, no I won’t and I never said otherwise!

This is worse than a soap opera, and quite frankly, we’re sick of it. Yeah, you were funny when you were doing sit ups while Barkley lounged on a recliner, or when you used your T-Mobile phone to decide whether you could eat that doughnut or not, and yeah, we didn’t want to tell you Shaq was already Superman when you got your little (unearned and unwarranted) obsession, but you were so gosh darn cute we didn’t want to break your itty bitty heart.

Now, we don’t care. Now, we’re sick of you. Now, your inaction has made us ‘hate’ you more than the “Decision” ever could.

“I’ve brought you all here to say that I have no idea what I want to say…”

I don’t mean ‘hate’ in the large, evil sense of the world. If we met you on the street, we would probably be very nice. We might even ask for a picture.

But when you get on the court, we’re going to relentlessly boo you, regardless of whatever jersey you will wear. When your commercials come on, we’re changing the channel and not buying the product. We will all collectively cheer for you never to win a championship (because we can’t do that for Lebron anymore…). By trying to be the nice guy, you have become another villain of the NBA.

We don you Spoiled-Bratman; indecision is your weapon.

“Surprise! I still have no idea…”

Even if you get traded to wherever you want to play this week, we don’t know if your reputation can be fixed. At least in the short-term.  You are the quintessential little boy who cried wolf, and that is a hard thing to forget.

For the time being, we are asking you to keep your head down, play the season and stop making any more comments, accusations, requests, denials or anything. Just go with the flow and see where the cards fall. If you do that, maybe you won’t be so hard to forgive after all. I mean, you did seem nice enough to ask on a date in the first place, know-what-I-mean?

Sincerely,

The Viewing Public

P.S.

Dear Orlando Magic,

You better buck up and make a decision soon. You’re beginning to look just as bad as the guy you’re trying to get rid of. Maybe you two deserve each other after all.



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