It Ain't Hump Day ... It's Sick Day. Mother Effer.

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​For a couple weeks I coughed and sneezed and hacked and blew and ... denied. Last night I gave up and went to the doctor.

Sure enough: Swine Flu. AIDS. Walking Pneumonia.

Sorry, but today I gotta make this - ahhhhhchooooo! - short and sweet:

*Rick Carlisle gets mad and Erick Dampier gets what? 14 points? 20 rebounds? I smell a trade in the Mavericks' future.

*This is the problem with we, the media. When the D.C. snipers were on their killing rampage back in October of 2002, the story was everywhere. Headlines on TV. Front page of the newspaper. But today, after mastermind John Allen Muhammad was finally executed, it's buried on page 5. I just wished we lived in a world where mass murderers faced judgment in seven days, not seven years. And I wished, as Michael Irvin once famously pleaded, we'd cover the punishment with as much intensity as we covered the crime.

*Explain to me again the difference between Memorial Day and Veterans Day?

*I don't get poker. I see the strategy and the bluffing and all that, but a lot of times it seems like it boils down to too much luck. That said, 21-year-old Joe Cada won $8.5 million. Most I won by age 21 was a free pitcher of beer at a sports trivia contest at the UTA's old Dry Gulch student saloon.

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