January 3, 2008 -- I WANT to live in Isiah Thomas' world. I do. I want to wake up in the morning, and even though the thermometer insists it's 23 degrees in the sun, you can walk the streets in your Bermudas and your tank top and your flip-flops and have to keep the sunscreen at the ready.
I want to go to lunch, eat my hamburger and fries, then close my eyes really, really tight and convince myself that I've just consumed filet mignon and a side of lobster (with drawn butter). I want to step on the scale at my health club on the day after the holiday season ends and discover that I have - tada! - lost 25 pounds!
I want to live a life unburdened by facts, unaffected by reality. If possible, I would love it if my boss would accompany me into that world, because once he does he'll never want to fire me, no matter how unreadable my columns become, no matter how many times I misspell "Krzyzewski," no matter how many participles I dangle.
"Well done!" my boss will wail with delight. "Four more years!"
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