And With The 1st Pick in the 2008 NBA Draft, The Chicago Bulls Select...

Pam Beasley, Dunder-Mifflin.

TIRICO: Blah Blah Blah Pam Beasley, Dunder-Mifflin. Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah (with gusto) Jay Bilas, Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah

BILAS: Well, the Bulls decided to go Beasley here, and it's pretty easy to see why. Let's talk about the obvious strengths that Beasley brings:

1. The 90 WPM. Hard to debate someone who can draft up a memo in seconds instead of minutes. With that ability to communicate, the Bulls front office is going to be more connected. What does that mean? Tyrus Thomas will have no excuses for not getting new practice times. John Paxson will have his latte with skim milk. Larry Hughes will have his prostitutes waiting in his limo immediately after the game. Drew Gooden will have a barber. All good things point to Beasley with getting this team back on track to the Eastern Conference Championship.

2. Cultured Ideas. Do you think Derrick Rose would have instuted the Finer Things Club for Memphis? Ideas like this will get this me-first team to blend into one, which is exactly what they needed last year. Let's not forget this team is only a year removed from a 49 win season. They needed to think outside the box here, but it looks like they had box on their mind all along.

3. Her Sense of Humor. The Bulls have had a recent history of rough starts on the road due to their early season West coast trips in November. They've needed more than a post presence is a good laugh or two at Chris Duhon's expense. Will Duhon be back next year? The signing of Beasley to make him the brunt of her gags says yes.

TIRICO: Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Beasley. Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Bulls Blah Blah Blah. Stephen A, Blah Blah Blah Blah?

STEPHEN A.: ARE WE BEING SERIOUS HERE? YOU TALK ABOUT A NEEDING A POINT GUARD, NEEDING A POST PRESENCE, AND THEY GOT SOME WHITE BITCH TO ANSWER THE PHONES! YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS! IT'S OBVIOUS THEY COULD HAVE GONE WITH THE HOMETOWN KID. IT'S OBVIOUS THEY COULD HAVE GOTTEN A BEAST. YET THEY GET A BITCH?! YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS! WHERE'D MY CHEESE DOODLES GO! IS STEPHEN GONNA HAVE TO SLAP A BITCH?

TIRICO: Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah, Miami is on the clock.

Kelvin Sampson To Free Agents: We Want U, Call Us L8r

(At the Milwaukee Bucks press conference, Scott Skiles is at the podium taking questions from the media)

SKILES: Good Morning. Alright, you all know that were looking to hit the ground running here. I believe we have alot of the right pieces to the puzzle as we start off. I think Michael Redd can take his star to the next level in this game, and he has some good young talent to build around. But to really work with these younger guys is something that I don't like to do. My job is to berate, belittle, holler, scream, shout, screech, yell, yawp, yell, and get these guys to MOVEIT. Teach? Not me. That's why I'd like to announce that the Milwaukee Bucks would like to welcome Kelvin Sampson to our coaching staff. Kelvin?

(Turns to shake Kelvin's hand...Kelvin is nowhere to be found)

SKILES: Kelvin? KELVIN? KEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLVVVVVVVVVVVIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Meanwhile, close a telephone booth in near by Racine, Sampson is sitting in a car outside of a Red Roof Inn texting on his phone)

SAMPSON'S PHONE: BARON, THIS IS KELVIN SAMPSON. IM W/THE BUCKS. WE WANT YOU. CALL ME L8R

(shuffles through his free agent list)

SAMPSON'S PHONE: P.J. BROWN, THIS IS KELVIN SAMPSON. IM W/MILWAUKEE. OMG G8R SHOT. WANT #93 for 930K? HOOK IT UP, LOOK ME UP

SAMPSON'S PHONE: JAMESON CURRY, THIS IS KELVIN SAMPSON. ICUP'D ON BOISE. NO PROB. WE CAN DO WORK. TTYL

(Phone rings, Baron Davis is calling back)

SAMPSON: Fuck, why is he calling? I can get in big trouble for this shit? Doesn't he know you're just supposed to hit me back with a text? Shit!

(Sneaks over to the phone booth, calls Baron back)

SAMPSON: (whispering) is this Baron?

BARON: Fuck, who think is this fresh on the phone?

SAMPSON: (whispering) oh neato! Baron, I'm with Milwaukee now, and we want you to be a young buck.

BARON: The fuck you whispering for, dog? This a real man's game now, ain't no bullshitin' gone on. And guess what? Fuck Young Buck. Muthafucka ain't got shit on my rap game. You see me spittin?

SAMPSON: Ummm...ye..yeah! Fresh rhymes, indeed. Look, I don't want to take much of your time. Think about Milwaukee, and just stick to texts, ok?

BARON: Whatever, dog. Peace

SAMPSON: Phew, that was close! If only Miles Brand saw me working the phones like this...oh wait, aren't I supposed to be somwhere right now?

(Looks across the street, sees an IHOP)

SAMPSON: Oh yeah, Canadian Bacon time!!!!

Mark Buehrle vs. The Space Heater

/Buehrle enters dugout after getting shelled by the Twins to the tune of 5.2IP, 9H, 7R, 7ER

(Innermonologue) MOTHERFUCKER! HOW COULD I THROW SUCH DOGSHIT TO A SHITTY NO-NAME TEAM! FUCK! First Jamie said no more sex until I get a win, and now this. FUCK!

(Enters Dugout)

The FUCK you looking at, Space Heater?! Yeah you, MOTHERFUCKER! WHAT..ARE..YOU..LOOKING AT?! I'm talking to you! Do you know who I am? You fucking know damn well who I am! I'm the guy who barely reaches 88! I'm the guy with a beard from St. Louis! I'm guy sexually depraved for the past month! FUCK YOU!

(Silence still from the Space Heater)

No acknowledgement?! FUCK IT!

(Grabs Juan Uribe's bat)

Uribe: NO USE BAT! NO USE BAT!

Buehrle: Fuck off, Juan! LAMA MIS BOLAS!

(Starts beating the shit of the space heater to no avail)

Buehrle: Aww...Fuck it. I can't even beat a space heater. Wish I had a heater. All I can do is throw batting practice.

Uribe: Buuly..Can you teach Juan hit like that? Juan no see nothing like that in long time.

Buehrle: Forget it Juan. Va la cogida su madre.

Uribe: Juan forget to speak spanish. Juan no know what means.

Buehrle: I SAID GO FUCK YOUR MOTHER!

Uribe: That no nice. Juan go listen to Grandpa Contreras talk Octopus

(Buehrle exits, Uribe inspects Space Heater for Clues)

(Uribe Innermonologue) Man, Juan take home and think this one out. If help fastball hit, it worth shot...