Josh Q. Public:  Do what you want to do.  And go where you're going to.  Think for yourself, 'cause I won't be there with you.  -The Beatles

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  So the Knicks got embarrassed again last night.  Humiliated again last night.  Disgraced again last night.  At least Walt Frazier didn't have to see it.  Didn't have to hear the tumultuous boos.  Didn't have to bear witness to the egregiously effortless performance.  Didn't have to hear Isiah Thomas claim feigned innocence.  Didn't have to watch him berate the fans.  Clyde had the night off.  St. Albans Queens' own Kenny Smith did the game last night.  And that's good news for one Walt Frazier.  Clyde.  Clyde the Glide.  Clyde, thriving and surviving.  Clyde, dishing and swishing.  Clyde, swooping and hooping.  Clyde, bounding and astounding.  Clyde, out-muscling and out-hustling.  Whatever Knicks mystique there may be, make no doubt about it, it's there because of Clyde.  The coolest of the cool.  The hippest of the hip.  The baddest of the bad.  Because I'm bad, I'm bad.  Come On.  You know I'm bad, I'm Bad.  You know it.  You can Willis Reed me.  You can Earl the Pearl me.  Heck, you can even Patrick Ewing or John Starks me.  But none of those of those cats match up to what Clyde means to this New York Knickerbockers franchise.  Frazier presided over the Knicks for ten years from 1967 to 1977.  Frazier scored 19.3 points per game.  Frazier played in seven NBA All-Star Games.  Frazier was named to four All-NBA First Teams.  Frazier was named seven NBA All-Defensive First Teams.  He was one of the first cats to make stealing the ball an art form.  Quick steals.  Sudden steals.  Big steals.  1970.  Game Seven.  NBA Finals.  Reed hobbled.  Clyde scores thirty-six.  Clyde dishes out nineteen.  Clyde steals five.  Clyde steals one big one.  Steals one big one from Jerry West down the stretch.  Steals one big one from Jerry West down the stretch and goes coast-to-coast.  Coast-to-coast and the finger roll.  And one!  Ballgame!  Stole the ball and stole our hearts.  That's why I feel so bad.  I'm no Knickophile.  I'm clearly no Zekeophile.  As much as I revel in watching Isiah's pain night after night, it pains me to watch Clyde watch these Knicks night after night. 

I'd love to know what Clyde is really thinking.  What is he really thinking about the sexual harassment suit when he carried himself with the utmost of class?  What is he really thinking about the highest payroll in the NBA when the most he ever made was $400,000?  What is he really thinking about last place in the Hot 'Lantic when he only had one losing record with the Knicks and even then still made the playoffs?  What is he really thinking when Stephon Marbury flies the coop when Clyde was the ultimate team player?  On a team of ultimate team players.  What is he really thinking about the worst coach in Knicks history when he played for the best coach in Knicks history?  What is he really thinking about his beloved Knicks when it seems the only people they love are themselves?  I'd love to be a fly on the wall.  I'd love to hear what Clyde is really thinking.

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six two and Even!