LeBron LeLoses His LeMind

I could care less where this tattooed glandular misfit goes, but after reading all of his third-person me-LeLove-me-so-you-better-LeLove-me-too quotes, the vomit has to go somewhere so here it is.

The Cavaliers deserved better. They could have drafted differently, prepared to go free-agent searching for themselves, and for a town that still poured its heart out to a guy who mailed it in during the NBA playoffs, they were treated too shabbily by far.

Basketball ain't golf, LeBron. No one is going to shush the crowd while you travel to the basket, and if LeTiger is any indication, all of the vitriol heaped upon LeYou will make YOU LeWilt just like his tired LeAss did. Woods has the PGA and all those rich advertisers surrounding him with brotherly love but still can't even sink a three-footer half the time ever since he made a jackass out of himself for all the world to witness.

And the stink of all those burning uniform jerseys is going to smell all the more odorous, pally, even after impregnating your 9th or 10th barfly whose arms you sought refuge in.

Bad LeMove, LeBron.

Or is is Queen James now?