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Kris Humphries is on the rebound

We know things have been tough for Kris, we've been keeping up with the tabloids (that's right, we're hip and in touch), that nasty divorce could have spelt bad news for anyone. Tack on the looming stress of potentially not having a job this year and any lesser PF/C would have fled to China with the rest of the Denver Nuggets, but not Kris, he's tough. He went from total shithead logging like 3 min a game or something with the Raps in 08'/09' (ok well maybe he averaged 9 but the truth isn't what were getting at here), to the fresh faced Kardashian prowler on the Nets, ended up perpetually blowing every ones minds and getting married to Kim, then getting divorced, then fending off gay rumours, to the present where he's assumed Brook Lopez's minutes and found himself on the rebound. In the Nets season opener he clocked in a hefty 39 min and beasted for 21pts and 16rebs. Talk about succulent. Talk about Zach Randolphish. Yahoo! brought him in ranked at 39 this year which I didn't trust, but hey, I also drafted JJ Hickson onto one of my teams. Basically what I'm saying is back off ladies, he may be on the rebound trying to get over the whirlwind of celebrity fame and marriage he recently partook in, but (judging by the headline picture of this article) he's not looking for a new female squeeze, only a barrage of boards, both offensive and defensive. Could be trouble for Brook who just came off a less than impressive fantasy year and is targeting a February return.

2011 Fantasy Basketball: CP3 alley-oop to Blake Griffin

It's arrived! We fucking did it! It took me a lot of threatening phone calls to the mayor of Basketball town but I got this season fucking rolling! You can thank me by leaving unmarked envelopes with white powder in them on the doorstep of your post office. You know about all the great sites listed to left that offer shit tons of ranks, tips and info on how to satisfy your wife via fantasy basketball but what you don't know is that the Bear has been watching Blake Griffin mix tape's on youtube all winter and now loves alley-oops more then ever. CP3 with the Bi-racial Facial is a deadly combo and should help boost Blakey past Dwight Howard in blocks, Lebron James in scoring and Rondo in steals. My sources also tell me that when David Stern steps down, Blake Griffin will be the first Commissioner/Player in league history. I might have set the bar a little high for his season but he's young, studly and full of dunks. Watch the trade reaction video.
Edit: Blake Griffin top 10 missed dunks

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Mock Drafts!

Too early for the 2012 fantasy mock draft? Get Fucked! It's coming up!

Dallas wins 'Chip

Holy Fuck!

The Fantasy season is over! No Fucking Way! Thanks for the update! You lost all your leagues? Should have listened to the bear and picked up Tyler Hansborough when he was still a fetus. Now What? What the fuck do you think? The bear grabs a big ass bottle of smooth tasting liquor and fucks off to a hole in the base of the biggest tree in Sherwood forest, robbing from the rich and dishing fantasy advice to the poor all winter. Aside from handing out shitty end of season fantasy awards, there is not a whole lot left to talk about as far as fantasy basketball is concerned. We are done updating until summer. We are also done getting paid in unmarked fish heads. Next year it's gotta be perch or higher. Tell your parents you need fish for school then send it care of:

Fantasy Basketbear
A Big Ass Cave
The Woods

Fantasy Basketball: End Game

"GIVE IT UP YOU FOOL! YOU'VE ALREADY LOST, THERE'S NOTHING LEFT TO GAIN!"
I tried to shout over the whir of the helicopter but to no avail. It was a damn shame that it had come to this but I'd smelled desperation on Shuttlesworth before and knew he was capable of anything in that state. Not just his mind but in Texas as well. I'd chased the bastard half way across the world trying to get Channing Frye back so he could finish off our weeks end match-up in style. Shuttlesworth thought if he could somehow prevent me from winning 3's, the rest would fall like dominoes. Thus a package was sent to Channing Fryes house, big enough to fit a man, a rag and a bottle of ether. Frye was suspicious but never knew what hit him. He told me later that he woke up in a basement with a large man telling him things could get nasty if he didn't call Alvin Gentry and say he was sick. He made the call and in a burst of heroism, managed to eek out a quick help before the butt of an M4 Carbine shut his lights off. I was asleep when Alvin called me:

"There's a problem".

"Not to worry", I told him, "I've got 4 categories on lock and two of your boys are planning on giving me their best efforts this evening. I spoke to them both personally".

"It's not Vince, it's Channing."

I sat bolt upright and could feel the hopes and dreams of every child in the country rolling off my forehead like sweat.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

I was up 6-3 on Saturday night in the greatest Head to Head fantasy basketball finals the world had seen since Nat "Sweetwater" Clifton double-doubled against the St. Louis Hawks on Sunday to win my Dad a victory over his friend The Duke in 56'. I drove in silence and thought about all the great parties me and Channing had thrown over the years. Stopped at a red light, I made a quick call to Blackwater worldwide.

"John? it's Fanarchy..... I know.......I know I said I would never do this but I need a favor....."

Content with my contact, I arrived at the US Airways Center to find Alvin drunk, sitting on the front steps, whipping beer bottles into traffic and yelling incoherently about the impending lockout. He rambled on about Kemba Walker and how Steve Nash was threatening retirement along with Jason Kidd. I slapped him across the face, hard.

"Get your shit together Gentry! You can't lose yer cool! Not at a time like this!"

With tears rolling down his cheeks, he told me about the phone call and the eventual ransom note that showed up in his office. It was pretty clear which direction this was headed in.

"Don't worry" I told him for the second time that morning, "I've got some help coming."

We could hear the chopper before we saw it. I didn't approve of the whole scandal in the middle east, but I didn't know who else to call. My season was on the line and I'd do anything to right the ship. As the flying demon landed, the turgical noon gun metal of the soldiers of fortune flashed in the sun. I wasn't much for firearms myself, but didn't shy away from the Ruger SR9 when the pilot thrust it into my hands. Alvin chose a slightly more aggressive looking MP5 and managed a few shots in the air before they realized he was drunk and more in need of good rest than a hostage negotiation. We flew him home and before he stepped off the bird he slapped me in the face, hard.

"Bring my boy home, Fanarchy. Bring 'em home safe."

Laughing, I promised him I would and we took off for Brazil, where I knew Shuttlesworth kept a small safe house. Somehow he'd been alerted to our arrival and had Channing bound and gagged in a wedding dress when we landed on his neighbors roof, no more than fifteen feet from where my opponent was holding a gun to Frye's back.

"GIVE IT UP YOU FOOL! YOU'VE ALREADY LOST, THERE'S NOTHING LEFT TO GAIN!" I tried to shout over the whir of the helicopter but to no avail.

"GET FUCKED! I'VE STILL GOT CALDERON AND WES MATTHEWS!" he screamed as he fired a shot into the night sky

He didn't realize that it was already over. Chauncey Billups had sealed my victory with a tidy line featuring efficiency and steals. Big Shot had also put 3's out of reach by going 3-7 from deep. I didn't know how to break it to him.

"MATTHEWS HAS BEEN FADING SINCE LATE FEBRUARY AND CALDERON IS AN INJURED CUNT" I said into the bullhorn. I tried to tell him a joke to let him down easy but an over eager sniper beat me to the punch line. The shot rang out over the jungle and Shuttlesworth crumpled to the ground.

Screaming "HOLD YOUR FIRE! HOLD YOUR FIRE GODDAMNIT!" I shot a grappling hook at the satellite dish across the alley and retracted myself across the rooftops to the bound Channing Frye and the corpse of my former foe.

"It didn't have to end like this old friend" I said as I took the orange ball gag out of Channing's mouth.

"FANARCHY! IT'S A TRAP!" Fry screamed as the roof came out from under us. We fell four stories into the earth and then blackness. I awoke several hours later to the glow of a cigarette in the darkness. It smelled like dope but it could have been my clothes.

"Well played, Well played" Shuttlesworth mocked, accompanied by the slowest clap I'd ever heard. He pulled long and deep on whatever he was smoking.

"What the fucking shit? You got shot! I saw that sniper shoot you in the fucking head! WHAT THE FUCK!?"

"A body double" he said "All the best bloggers have one. The government thinks I'm dead and blackwater took off as soon as they saw their paycheck drop though the rooftop"

"So now what?" I asked

"Easy" he said "We stay here until the heat dies down, then transfer the bear to a Swiss bank account. We take one of those bicycle powered submarines to Europe and live like kings while the US Government pays us to blog about fantasy basketball."

The lights flicked on and I could see he wasn't alone. Crash, Bird Dog and George Orwell were all right behind him, eagerly hoping I would agree. I got up, dusted my pants off and could only laugh as Crash handed me a beer. We got good and drunk that night. Also pick up Matt Bonner.

Facts and Fables, Part 3X

Fact: Acquiring Stephen Jackson is a Kiss of Death

I knew this, but it didn't stop me.. George Orwell played me like a game of go fish, his exact words: "S-Jax is gunna go off with Crash gone". In a state of blinding competitiveness I fell for the line. It was as if I was some buxom 18 year old blond who had aspirations of a modeling career, and when I arrived at my first amateur photo shoot I soon realized that the photographer wasn't shooting models; he was shooting a BJ contest.
S-Jax has ranked 279 over the last month and will likely shut it down with a tweaked hammy. Get well soon Capt'n Jack, in the meantime keep your game sharp by turning that woman over and jacking shots everywhere.

Fable: Jordan Crawford is a One Hit (Dunk?) Wonder

You know the name because he crowned the king, but ever since Jo-Craw started playing heavy minutes he's been ballin out. He dropped 39 on Miami Wednesday and is taking 20 shots a game as a starter, because you sure as fuck don't want JaVale McGee touching the ball on O (although JaV-McG should be given credit for the raging trend of randomly tossing capital letters into the spelling of people's names). CraWfoRd is about as efficient as a Gatling gun but somebody's gotta put in work besides JoHn, and if anyone were to acknowledge that Yi JianLiaN was starting for the Wiz, BaraCk ObaMa would have to adopt a litter of puppies and skin them alive inside a GapFor Kids just to make Washingtonians slightly less depressed.

Fact: Anthony Randolph is Still Fuckin With The Bear

Tony Dolph's flirtation with The Bear has been well documented on TMZ and in People's magazine, go back in time and peep our April posts of last year. With M'cLovin out for a few games Randy Dolphin made some rare starts, and after a set of back to backs where he totaled 55pts and 26rebs (plus 6blk/stls and shiny %s) Fanarchy's mind was so absolutely blown he decided to start the skinny German bastard against me in our head 2 head grand finale. Shit son, we're tied. Get fucked by a pineapple Bo-Bandy!

Fable: Kyle Lowry is a Nice Sleeper For Next Year

Do not sleep on him! Dude destroyed Aaron Brooks' career in H-town and is a top 50 player this season, top 5 in the last month, just look! I doubt you drafted him, I guarantee you he won't slip again because Kyle Lowry has Bear-like skills.

Fantasy Basketball: Drinking at Sea

The sun was blinding. As soon as I stepped off the plane I couldn't see shit. How long had we been in the air for? 5? 6 hours? After Serge Ibaka had secured the win for me by blocking two shots in the fourth quarter against a slow as shit Portland team, Sunday night had turned into a carnival of hookers, cocaine and armed robbery that was winding down some 36 hours later when the pilot I had hired was falling asleep at thirty thousand feet.
"We need to land this damn plane or Shuttlesworth is gonna drink my blood in the Finals!" I screamed, holding the pilots unconscious head up so he wouldn't swallow his own tongue. Crash and the newly fantasy relevant Carl Landry were slamming shots of Patron in the planes bathroom when I barged in like an animal. "Get fucking Keith Smart on phone! We're gonna have to land this flying whore show ourselves."
Keith was hesitant and the Warriors were by no means a lock against John Wall. He got distracted when Javale McGee was verging on his new career high of 28 points, but Monta Ellis was able to take over near the end, allowing Smart enough of a breather to talk us through a difficult landing just inside the Las Vegas state line. The sun was blinding. As soon as I stepped off the plane I knew we needed to bury or burn the evidence of the night before and Carl Landry was no exception. We flagged down the first trucker we saw and some old boy named Large George gave us a ride in the trailer. He dropped us off at the Bellagio and thanked us for our discretion when it came to the 150 pounds of northern lights we'd ridden in the back with. He gave us a small back pack full and we never saw him again. I turned to Carl Landry: "Thanks for everything Carl; the safe code numbers, the Berlin contacts, the way your filling in for David West. It means a lot to our organization and if it were up to me, I'd bring you with us but you know as well as I do that we'd drown in red tape and that's how those bastards getcha." He shed a single tear as me and Crash jumped in the first limo we saw, demanding to be taken to a high stakes betting parlor, stuffing handfuls of bills into the confused drivers coat pockets. I'd secured a spot in the H2H finals but the night wasn't over yet, not if I was gonna finish on top.

Jon Brockman Trick Shot Video

Blake Griffin Tech Dunk

Late Night Fantasy Basketball

I looked in the freezer for ice. Nothing. Scotch, no rocks then. I felt a drunken confidence about my team I'd not felt since I told myself Brandon Jennings was a "steal" in the fifth round on draft day. I'd gone into the playoffs second overall and managed to squeak thru the first round 5-4 on all the small ball cats. A couple nervous moments when I was down 6-3 on Saturday night, but Sunday games from a few of my key guards smoothed things over and put me into next week against a tough 6th place team that had somehow started Tyreke Evens, even though he wasn't due back until late March. It was a good feeling. I had money riding on this one. The kind of money you don't want to lose or very bad men would come looking for it. Money I didn't have. I made a few calls just in case, first to my opponent, then to Carlos Boozer and the rest of his starting forwards. "Hello Carlos....It's not important who this is.....Don't steal any minutes from Taj Gibson this week or things could get very ugly for Tom Thibodeau in the coach of the year race!"
I hung up satisfied and poured myself another warm scotch, reflecting on the nausea I felt from being forced to start Ron Artest for another god damn week. He'd do for now. My whole team would. But it was unacceptable against the powerhouse number one ranked team I would meet in the finals. A team that had sleepwalked through the season and won the first round 8-1 like it was carrying in the groceries for dinner. No, I'd need to take drastic measures if this season was gonna climax into a championship, need to do something rash. I took a drink and made another call, this one all the way to the White House....