If you haven’t yet watched Chapter 7 of Who Shot Mamba? you might want to do so – what follows will be filled with spoilers, because this segment is LOADED with revelations.

Do it, then join me below.

(If you haven’t watched Chapters 1-6, you have some homework to do, friend.)

Again…spoilers follow…

So Calvin Stadiums is the instigator of the shooting of Mamba, and continues to threaten people with guns.

If you haven’t quite put the pieces together, Calvin Stadiums is 90% based on Wizards star and gun enthusiast Gilbert Arenas…and this was written well over two years ago – long before he was suspended by the NBA for his firearm incident.

Calvin is so much a Gilbert avatar that a couple years back we were in discussions with Arenas’s people about him playing the character. We were told “yes” at one point and put the entire production on hold to wait…and wait…and wait.

Dylan Mooney came in and owned the role in a way that made for a better movie anyway, but we hold that Gil has The Curse of the Mamba hovering over him.

You laugh, but guess who was very close to playing Sherpa (from Chapter 1) and then decided against it?

Yep…Greg Oden.

In any case, while writing WSM?, just how much Gilbert was there inserted into Calvin? Here’s the breakdown of the basketball-based aspects of the character:

GILBERT ARENAS
- Obvious play on the name
- Uniform number
- Agent Zero/Henchmen Zero
- Aloof and Quirky
- Obsessed with Orange Roundie
- Unique father-son relationship
- Big Tiger as symbol of sorts
- Washington, DC
- Gunplay (unintentional)

MICHAEL JORDAN
- Greatest ever
- Gambling problem
- Competitive arrogance
- Petey Skippen sidekick

KOBE BRYANT
- the complete lack of self-awareness the younger Kobe had

The biggest Calvin-Gilbert-gun similarity of all is something I can’t talk about until the movie is over, but it was what struck me most heavily when the Arenas/gun stuff started, because it was something I had decided on years ago.

Keep watching – and there’s much more about the transition from Arenas-to-Stadiums right here.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about different ways to attack other countries, and I came upon the idea of giant water missiles.

Like you could hover them over the grid and be like really threatening with them, and all the countries would be scared because you’re just like, “Yeah, you guys are our enemies and you’re gonna be drenched.”

Just a thought.

All my sports blog friends – please don’t take offense to the following at all – it’s not a condemnation on the work you do. It’s simply what TOO MUCH INFO has ultimately resulted in for me.

Those of you who try to talk sports with me in various venues may be finding that it’s increasingly difficult to determine whether or not I have any idea whether or not I know what I’m talking about.

The cold, hard, harsh, viral truth of this tempest is because I probably don’t. I have, as of lasterday, dropped the last of the sports pages/blogs/sites from my feed reader. The only thing I do is go to NBA DOT COM to see when the big game is on.

(If you must know – that last one was Henry Abbot’s TrueHoop. It’s not a reflection on Henry – he’s a great writer and I like him tremendously. And I do still have Trey Kerby’s the Blowtorch on there, because if you look close, he’s not actually writing about sports.)

Somewhere I just found I was enjoying the games more, the less I read about them.

Now that I’m riding totally knowledge/analysis free and instead spending my time talking to girls on Twitter, it’s amazing. When it really hit me was when I found out Jason Terry was Sixth Man of the Year from the ABC broadcast. Like, a full day or so after it was announced, even.

I love trophies.

Anyone else experimented with living a life of under-saturation in the Age of Over-saturation? What’s your experience or thoughts on this in general?

(Follow me on Twitter here.)
(Download the first 55 pages of my epic, pretentious, and stupid book, Prelude to a Super Airplane, here.)

(The following is an excerpt from my book, Prelude to a Super Airplane. It can be purchased by clicking on any of the roughly 400 banners adorning this site, or by clicking here. It’s also available on Amazon.

I’ve posted the first 20 chapters (roughly 55 pages of PTSA) on this site. Links to each of those are at the end of this post, or you can download all of them as a pdf by clicking here.

Army Captain Peter Ovaire was an ambitious soldier, with large ambitions.

In the heat of battle, he would often, not unlike a professional athlete, picture himself winning the battle. Peter Ovaire felt this visualization technique was an essential part of his many and varied Army Captaining successes.

Peter Ovaire wasn’t shy about sharing this technique with his men, and they often stood in awe, as Peter dazzled them with his ability to both fight a battle and picture himself winning that same battle, all at once. He found this amusing, as Peter Ovaire had always been able to do two things at the same time – perhaps this was why he had become the top young Army Captain in this, America’s Secret War With Brazil.

Captain Peter Ovaire was attempting his visualization technique on the morning of September 14, 1973, as he drove his grounded Army Battle Airplane through a one-foot thick solid gold barrier – the barrier that surrounded the headquarters of the Brazilian Warlord, Horatio Rodriguez.

Being inside the headquarters of Horatio Rodriguez was exciting for Peter Ovaire, for he had now done in seven days what the entire Marine Corps had been unable to accomplish in seven weeks.

Still, apprehension loomed, for in front of Peter Ovaire stood a second solid gold barrier, and this barrier was two feet thick. Peter did the math, and noted that the new barrier was twice as thick as the first.

(His co-airplane-driver, an aspiring scientist named Markush Von Vendervan, was supposed to be doing these calculations, but he was currently having visions of what he would later say was his “scientific destiny”.)

Peter Ovaire noted several other things, including, but not limited to, twelve additional solid gold borders that still lay ahead of him and his grounded Battle Airplane. These borders were each a full foot thicker than the one that preceded them, and all were made of solid gold.

It was helpful to see these at this time, for it assisted Peter Ovaire in visualizing himself busting through each and every one of them in his Battle Airplane, which was now on fire.

The fire originated from the five thousand men and children that made up Horatio Rodriguez’s El Elite Warrior Squad, who were now shooting Peter Ovaire’s Battle Airplane with flame throwers, and grenades, and handheld missiles, and special boulders, which exploded upon impact.

Regardless, Peter Ovaire was the best and brightest young Captain in the entire Army, and for this reason, he and his Battle Airplane pushed forward without hesitation, and penetrated the inner hot tub party war chamber of the Brazilian Warlord, Horatio Rodriguez.

In this moment, Peter Ovaire knew that he had won America’s Secret War With Brazil for These United States of America, and he also knew that this would propel him into the national spotlight as a war hero, even though America’s Secret War With Brazil was a secret.

Peter Ovaire sat back in his Army Battle Airplane seat, ignoring his babbling young scientist of a co-airplane-driver, Markush Von Vendervan. For in this moment, Peter Ovaire thought of his large ambitions.

Captain Peter Ovaire, in fact, was using his visualization technique to see the day that he would become President of These United States of America.

Brad Radby’s Foreward, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 31

Plaxico Burress had shot himself in the leg, and the pain from it was killing him.

The irony of this was lost on Plaxico, for in this moment, when he was on the ground bleeding vast amounts of blood, and all those around him were screaming and yelling, Plaxico Burress was thinking about other things, and not the pain in his leg.

The leg he had shot.

Plaxico Burress was a professional football player of some note, and on his best days, he knew he was one of the best professional football players in the National Football League.

It was for that reason, and because of his status as a Super Bowl Champion, that Plaxico Burress could walk into any trendy dancing club, in any city, in any country, and demand the best table in the establishment.

Plaxico had thought long and hard that morning, as he ate an expensive name brand cereal in his breakfast nook, about which of the many clubs – any of which he could demand the best table at – he would go to that night.

It was a Saturday, and so Plaxico Burress knew that many of the clubs would be “hoppin”, as his hamstring liked to phrase it. Of course, Plaxico again missed the irony of his hamstring talking to him, for in this moment, Plaxico Burress’s hamstring was injured, and he knew it didn’t want to go to the hoppin, trendy dance clubs at all.

Hamstrings, he also knew, couldn’t talk.

“Unless it’s a metaphor,” he said quietly to himself, and out loud. Plaxico was tall, and he was good with metaphors. He also liked fast cars and loud movies, and loud movies about fast cars.

And so, as Plaxico Burress ate his expensive name brand cereal, and bickered metaphorically with his hamstring, he used the online internet to determine which of the many hoppin clubs he knew of – the ones at which he could demand tables – that he would go to.

Thus, and furthermore, and etc, back in the present, as he lie on the ground bleeding, and everyone around him was screaming and yelling, Plaxico Burress was having mixed feelings about not listening to his hamstring’s clever metaphors that morning, in his breakfast nook.

For minutes ago – four, to be exact – Plaxico Burress’s hamstring was again complaining via metaphor about being out at the hoppin club, despite the nice table Plaxico had acquired for them.

It was for this reason that Plaxico Burress had shot himself in the leg, and he knew before he did it that he would lose his contract with his National Football League team, and that he would go to jail, and worst of all, Plaxico knew that the online internet sports blogs would say mean things about him.

What none of the online internet sports blogs knew, however, was that as he lay on the floor of the hoppin, trendy dance club, Plaxico Burress’s hamstring was at last quiet.

It was not making him listen to its metaphors, and Plaxico Burress could concentrate only on the pain, which was killing him.

Plaxico was a complex man, who liked expensive name brand cereals, and loud movies about fast cars, but in this moment, despite the vast amounts of blood he was losing, Plaxico Burress was at peace.

(If you liked this, you’re gonna love what I’ve been working on – the creative explosion I’ve alluded to.)

(That thing being arrowed is awesome – I’ll bet instead of bullets it just fires fully formed explosions.)

Clearly looking to capitalize off the future success of 2WO G2N G2Y, some writer for Syracuse DOT COM has dubbed his buddy THE Gun Guy, and is dispensing firearms device.

Being that I played 2GG, and thus have held real guns several times over the course of three days, I feel I must get into character and answer these questions the correct way.

While this would seem like it’d be an ongoing feature, I’ll bet I only do it once.

Here is the question that was sent to the guy.

While the writer signed it “Joe Trihey”, I think his real name is probably, “I Have Way Too Much To Say About Guns Trihey”.

Besides all his words, I can’t help but think there’s something wrong when a person is looking for advice that is best summed up as, “my gun isn’t killing things good enough”.

Question:
I have recently purchased the a new BAR Longtac 270 and I am a little displeased with the accuracy of the gun. I would like to share a few details of my experience with the gun and get a professional opinion on the matter. I have been a deer hunter for the past 12-14 years and I’ve had several bolt action rifles, all of them being 270s and have been pleased with the accuracy and flat trajectory of this caliber. I am accustomed to still hunting but have recently moved to an area where dog hunting is the primary focus and the guys I hunt with shoot rifles, naturally automatic rifles. The majority of them consider Browning the only automatic rifle. I did some research and found that it has a good reputation for reliability and accuracy. After purchasing the Longtrac I mounted a 3x9x40 bushnell elite 4200 scope along with weaver bases and rings. I would have used leupold mounts but I had a bad experience with these in the past.

The rest is after the link, followed by 2GG’s answer.

I first sighted the rifle in at 25 yds. I moved the target out to 100 yds. Shot 3 different brands of 130 grain bullets (core lokt, hornady custom, rem prem accutip) and 3 shots each. The gun was shooting all over the place, 5-6″ groups at best with the hornady’s. The person with me said it was me. But I am usually capable of shooting 1″ groups with other rifles so I knew that was not the case. Just to make sure, I quit for the day, cleaned the gun that night and shot it again the next day. The results were not better. After this I began to examine the gun. I noticed that the crown was not center of the bore and it was not square either (almost looks like somebody slipped with a cordless drill). It is not easily noticable but it definately is not right. So I took it to a local guy, who I believe is a gunsmith, and had him look it over. He found that the scope bases were loose. I was very surprised b/c I used a thread locker and tightened them pretty good or at least I thought so. He tightened them and remounted the scope. I told him that I had mounted the scope well and he said that the aluminum reciever has steel plugs that the base screws go into and that these can sometimes come loose from the reciever. He said to shoot the gun some more and check the bases again, if they were loose again to send it back to Browning. I asked him about the crown, and he replied that it probably would not make a great impact on the accuracy.

I took the gun back to the range. Zeroed in at 25 yds, and then shot three 3 shot groups at 100 with the ammo mentioned above. This time it shot better, but not what I expect out of a $1100.00 gun and scope. The rem ammo shot 3-4″ groups and the Hornady about 2″. One thing I find strange about the groups is the pattern; it shows some consistency but not accuracy. I kept 6 of the targets I shot, using a new target for each 3 shot group. On 3 out of the six targets there is a pattern that is very similar. The pattern is like this: 3 bullet holes following a diagonal line 3-6″ long consistantly going higher and to the right away from the bullseye almost making a straight line if you connect the dots. I dont know which ones are the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd shot but at any rate it is notable. In fact on two of the last three targets shot 2 of the holes line up almost perfectly with one another.

I have not yet taken the scope off to check the base screws. First of all I would like to know if it is possible for the “steel plugs” inside the aluminum receiver to actually come loose, it could have been me not using enough torque the 1st time. Secondly to what effect could the crown have on accuracy. To give you an idea of the crown dislocation: it looks slightly egg shaped looking into the bore and on one side of the crown the depth of the crown is about the thickness of a dime and exactly opposite of that it is about the thickness of a small paper clip and then about an eigth of the circumfrence looks like it did not get crowned at all. So I am wondering if this will have an effect on accuracy and if it does should I have the gun replaced or have the barrel recrowned. The reason I would be hesitant to have the gun replaced is because it did shoot a 2″ group with the bad crown and if there is a good possibility that a correct crown job could bring it down to an inch then I would say that I have a good gun and just a bad crown, and why should I return it when I may get a gun that will not shoot any better than 2″ groups with a good crown job. From what I read mass production guns, especially automatics are hit and miss.
- Joe Trihey

DEAR JOE GET ANOTHER GUN SO YOU HAVE TWO ADN THEN SHOOT EVERYTHING YOU SEE THANKS FOR WRITING 2GG

UPDATE: The following quote is from The Gun Guy’s actual answer, and if you think it’s not making its way into a future 2GG script, then you’re wrong:

A good man with a bolt action rifle is hard to beat.

So true. So very true.

Being that I’ll be in Dallas for Halloween, I’d better not be what I usually am, which is “Obnoxious Cowboy”.

I’m already 100% sure I’ll be shot while I’m there simply from stray fire from the varmint hunters, and I don’t think I should do anything to encourage additional shootings.

As such, here is a list of alternative costumes that can make for both a unique look and a fun evening. Please let me know which I should go with:

1) A Chair
2)
3)
4)

That’s all I’ve got so far – I guess I’ll update it as I think of more ideas. I don’t know if it can get cooler than that, though.

In other news of Saturday morning, I took a hot shower, just to see what would happen.

I hated it – first of all, you’re standing there waiting for the water to heat up, which takes awhile. Then you just kinda move slower in there, because you’re not getting pounded with cold water.

The worst thing, though? After about a minute and a half, I couldn’t breathe right. Seriously – it was like standing in a really humid Ohio summer day, and it was horrible.

I tried to manage for another 2-3 minutes. Keep in mind with a cold shower, I’d already be halfway dry by now.

So after a little more torture, I finally relented and turned off the hot water, and the cold felt great – it was like being released from a bear trap or something.

Anyway, I got out, and of course the mirror is all fogged up, so I can’t do my flexing session right away.

All in all, the hot shower was a terrible experience, I’m never doing it again, and I just cut myself for about 45 minutes over the whole thing.

Finally, it’s really sad that Paul Newman died, but if one more person comes up to me and says, “I’m even more sad than Robert Redford,” I’m gonna pop.

There’s no way you’re more sad than Robert Redford about this. First of all, they were in movies together, which means they were best friends in real life.

Secondly, Robert Redford is an actor, which means even if he seems not as sad as you, he may just be acting not as sad to help others stay strong.

(I would never go see the Dragonball movie, but if this is what Emmy Rossum is gonna be looking like in it, I’ll have to.

She’s been my favorite since like when I saw this picture 15 minutes ago. I thought she only did sophisticated movies like “Poseidon” – I’m totally into her now.

UPDATE: Wait – she’s only 22? Hasn’t she been a full-grown woman for like 10 years at least?)

I think one of the main things that’d be fun about being famous is pretending you’re making a complete mess out of your fame and fortune, and then watching everyone talk about it.

Take this quote regarding a particular actress.

I’ve cleverly hidden who it is by being clever aboot it.

“Lindsay’s been drinking, doing cocaine and causing all-around mayhem for the past few months.”

Like if that were me, I’d totally play into it, by being even worse than they say, and calling the media out for trying to protect me.

It’d be hilarious if like things were so bad, that my mom had no choice but to write about it in the Christmas letter that goes out to family and friends.

She’s just like, “Screw it – they’re all reading about it anyway; let’s just tell it like it is. Our son causes all-around mayhem – you happy?”

Just what all-around mayhem is, I don’t know, although I do know I’ve definitely caused it before.

I know it’s not, but it sounds like a living, breathing tornado (who may or may not be sentient) follows you around, leaving a path of destruction in your wake.

Hey – that’s a great movie:

My Naughty Tornado
A young boy must figure out why everyone hates him when his best friend, a tornado, begins blowing stuff around whenever he leaves the house.

I can’t get to that until maybe January, but you can be sure that moved right up my to-do list.

Oh, I’ve also determined that my “ha-ha it’s so funny how everyone in Texas has guns” demeanor will probably get me shot within hours of making contact with the Dallas natives next week.

CHAPTER 1

Since I’m locked into T-Mobile for awhile and thus can’t partake in the iPhone experience, I’ve been waiting for this Gphone, in the hopes it can be my temporary salvation.

After seeing it…I’m not interested. I hate those slide-open keyboards.

Note here that I currently am a user of the Blackberry Curve, as seen to your right. It’s more important to me than any other possession I have, including my complete memory of who I am.

You see, I’ve uploaded my massive biography to the device, so in the case I’m forced to choose between my Blackberry and my memory, I can freely give my memory away to whoever the buyer or attacker may be.

After the transaction or attack, all I have to do is the following:

1) Look in mirror, wonder who I am.
2) Pick up the Blackberry.
3) Say, “Is this…is it mine…? My god…what’s happened…I don’t remember anything…”
4) Turn it on.
5) Start searching, and find document with my picture that begins, “This is you. Read all about yourself and then call your Mom at [Mom's phone # redacted].”

Anyway, a good piece of news about the device – it’s not the only one.

Now, one thing T-Mobile didn’t emphasize (and I don’t blame them) is that this isn’t the Gphone, it’s just the first of hundred to come from different handset vendors and different network operators. Yet probably many members of the general public today think this is the one and only GPhone, just like many folks in the early 1990s thought AOL was the Internet.

That said, I’ll still go running to AT&T in 18 months for an iPhone. I’m all Mac’d up, and would love to have everything talking to each other cleanly.

CHAPTER 2

I don’t much like to comment on sports for now, but ESPN’s Bill Simmons has made the claim that fantasy sports are “cool” now. I’ve either completely missed that bus, or he’s wrong.

I just don’t get fantasy sports – I’m not saying it’s like lame or anything, it’s just he talks about it like it’s mainstream; the new binge-drinking, ie everyone’s doing it.

I believe this is an untrue statement. Am I right or wrong?

CHAPTER 3

Anyway, I’m heading to Dallas early now, so I’m totally going to be there for all of October and November, which I’m pumped about.

I love going new places, especially if going to that place means I don’t have to be in Los Angeles for two entire months.

Here’s a list of things I’m going to do while I’m there, based on everything I know about Texas:

Ride horses everywhere, go to slaughterhouses, date cheerleaders, have lots of guns, shoot cans off of fences with cowboy buddies, eat chitlins, learn to spell sasparilla, do everything possible with sarsaparilla, get bitten by a rattlesnake, and have an old west shootout (preferably while on a horse).

Does anyone know if there’s a big cutting community down there, or do they like graze themselves with gunfire instead?