Under fire for allegedly injecting Guantanamo detainees with mind-altering substances to coerce confessions, Department of Defense officials blamed Houston Astros shortstop Miguel Tejada, who they said provided them with syringes supposedly filled with B-12 vitamins.

“You’ll have to ask Migs about that,” said Navy Commander J.D. Gordon, a Pentagon Spokesperson. “He already lied to us about his age. We feel betrayed.”

Tejada’s agent declined to comment and suggested that media contact Berkeley professor and former Department of Justice attorney John C. Yoo, whose infamous memo held that the U.S. can use drugs on prisoners.

A phone message left with Professor Yoo went unanswered, but an administrative official at Berkeley Law School explained that the Professor was on a retreat with Erik Prince, Skeletor, and the ghosts of Heinrich Himmler and J. Edgar Hoover. He is due back next week.

The whole hubbub has not gone unnoticed by Congress; Pennsylvania Senator Arlen Specter has vowed to hold hearings. “I find it very troubling that Miguel Tejada lied about his age,” said the Senator.

While I’m not terribly sympathetic to the aims of Mike Huckabee, I did admire his Chuck Norris ad. I am generally sympathetic to the aims of Oregon Senator Ron Wyden, but sympathies aside, this is the most entertaining political advertisement I’ve seen in a long time:

Last night, Kevin Durant had career highs of 42 points and 13 rebounds in the Sonics season-capping victory over the Golden State Warriors. Earlier this year, after the Seattle Fire Department put out an embarrassing scoreboard fire (with an assist from Squatch) the Warriors blew out the Sonics so badly that I left at halftime. But by the last couple weeks, the Supers had matured into a tough ticket, a team you didn’t want to face if you were jockeying for a playoff spot.

Now the season’s over and the team’s future location sadly uncertain. Nevertheless, it’s time to grade the on-the-floor product (or what remains of it–I left off the traded players). This was tougher than I thought: when I scanned my original list of grades, there was hardly even a ‘C’ among them, and how can a 20-win team get all A’s and B’s? I went through again with a more critical eye, but still, I like this team, and it’s not really their fault they sucked. Without further ado:

Chris Wilcox: B-
It’s hard to know which is receding faster–his hairline or the dream that he’ll somehow harness his considerable hops and brawn and become a top-notch power forward. His failures seem to arise more from a lack of guile and skill than effort, but how hard would it be to develop a lefty jump hook? He still finishes an alley-oop as well as anybody.

Earl Watson: B
The Earl posted his finest pro season, which, while featuring an impressive combination of defense, penetration, and professionalism, didn’t entertain like his time at UCLA. Thus I propose he be called “The Earl of Westood,” in remembrance of those halcyon days when he and Baron Davis (“The Baron of Westwood”) finished each other’s alley-oops like Peter North finishes scenes: with gusto. For those keeping score, Westwood now boasts an Earl, a Baron, a Miller, and a Wizard. It’s like its own little medieval video game.

Johan Petro: C-
It’s hard for me to offer an objective assessment of the man who karate kicked the Hip To Be Fit Cadillac Remix into YouTube glory and whose infrequent highlights inspired Kevin Calabro to bellow his uniquely sublime “Sacre Bleu!” I shall try, though. The Frenchman displayed a fairly reliable mid-range jumper (which he forced too often, leading to a terrible shooting percentage), occasional rebounding prowess, and no ability to defend or use his left hand. At least the Sonics didn’t use a lottery pick on him, like they did on…

Robert Swift: Incomplete
In his few minutes this year, Wild Bobby Ginger looked raw…Monday Night Raw! Sure, the NBA pays better and the ponytailed pivot likely has another few years of hardwood promise to unfulfill, but when you’re done chasing those chimerical hoop dreams, Bobby, I know a guy named Vince who has a few vials of the good stuff and a job for you.

Mo Sene: C+
Rounding out the twenty-one feet of first-round 5-spot bench ballast is my favorite of the three, the Senegalese sensation with the Van Damme video collection, Mouhamed Saer Sene. While Mo looked a little lost on offense on his too-few call-ups, he did inflict some serious D-League damage, to the tune of a Defensive Player of the Year Award for that circuit. Keep up the good work, Mo!

Mikael Gelabale: B-
Showed some promise for a hot minute, then blew out his knee. He and Mo formed a classic comic pairing at the end of the bench, and if there’s any justice in the hoop universe, they’ll someday, somewhere get a chance to ball together. Picture ‘em rollin’!

Luke Ridnour: C-
In assessing our team’s chances for success, an old basketball coach of mine used to say “you can’t make chicken soup out of chicken shit.” Well, with the help of some heavy seasoning, Frodo’s managed to make an edible broth. But 170-pound point guards who can’t shoot and aren’t terribly athletic shouldn’t be logging heavy minutes in the NBA.

Damien Wilkins: D
He scored 41 points in a double overtime game against the Hawks in November. That was fun and the exception to this rule: with Wilkins, the fewer the shots and minutes, the better.

Maximus Szczerbiak: Incomplete
Conceived as a Celtic and born a Cavalier, the future ruler nevertheless gestated as a SuperSonic. Little Z will have plenty of money, likely accompanied by good looks and an imposing physique. As the Bard once quipped, some “have greatness thrust upon them.” Live up to your name, kid.

Nick Collison: B+
Larry Brown would say that Collison played the right way. Of course, David Lee played the right way and Brown benched him. If you’re reading this, Larry Brown, please accept my heartfelt ‘fuck you’ for your sabotage of the 2005-2006 Knicks season. And Nick–nice work.

Jeff Green: B+
The former Hoya was something of a hoops dilletante, dabbling in a potpourri of roles–the Rodman-esque rebounder, the Radman-esque marksman, the raw rookie who loves to dunk. I have it on no less an authority than Steve “Snapper” Jones that Green regularly arrived early and stayed late to work on his game, something that paid off in an improved handle, left hand, and three-point shot. In the last month, he started to take a lot of shots, which would have been more alarming had he not been playing in a seven-man, D-League-caliber rotation.

Kevin Durant: A
He finished the season as one of only three teenagers to average 20 points a game–the other two being Lebron James and Carmelo Anthony. While his predecessors were physically mature as rookies, the long-limbed Durantula (Michiko Kakutani might call him the long-limned Durantula) still looks like he might get caught in a pool drain. Nevertheless, he soared over the rookie wall, finishing the season with a string of dominant performances and showing a promising flair for the dramatic. Seattle’s turned its lonely eyes to you, Mr. Durant. Please don’t go.

P.J. Carlesimo: B-
Chicken soup, chicken shit. The halfcourt offense was stagnant, but those mock turtlenecks and beige blazers were pretty hot.

Sam Presti: A
A fairly flawless first campaign. If I have to eat a broth made of chicken shit, I want Sam Presti to be the one preparing it. Another scoop of poop, Soup Nazi!

Kevin Calabro and Steve “Snapper” Jones: A+
Calabro’s the finest play-by-play announcer in the NBA, in this homer’s opinion, and Snapper proved that he doesn’t need lil’ bro Walton to excel. Top notch work, fellas.

In his column today, Joel Connelly cries “enough already” on the levies proposed for the 2008 ballot and the potential burden they might place on Seattle and Seattle area taxpayers. He points out that the ballot could contain all of the following: a $6 billion Sound Transit light rail proposal, a $150 million parks levy, and a $75 million Pike Place Market renovation levy. (To these he adds the City Council’s proposed 20 cent tax on disposable grocery bags.)

Nevertheless, the key to the problem–insofar as we have one–is not in the spending, but in the word that appears only once in his column, in a quote from former Transportation Secretary Doug MacDonald: regressive. The tax burden of Seattleites is actually quite modest, mainly because neither the city nor the state see fit to assess an income tax. Most of our public works are funded by increases in the sales tax, which falls just this side of a poverty tax, or in the slightly less regressive property taxes. (Washington’s tax structure has been called the most regressive in the nation.)

Our low tax burden is one reason our transportation infrastructure has fallen so far behind our population growth. We can continue to face the liberal’s dilemma of regressively funded public works (a divide-and-conquer dream for the Tim Eyman crowd), or we can figure out a more equitable way to create the spending increases needed to fund big city infrastructure. A progressively structured income tax, even if just within the city, would be a good start.

Note: I originally posted this on the Daily Weekly this morning. I was flattered with a response from Bruno of Bruno and the Professor that makes some good points.

Congrats to my good friend and Haymaker & Sally collaborator Jason “Reidster” Reid: Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban praised Reid’s “Don’t Stop Believing” remix of the Christine Gregoire rally that “Save Our Sonics” crashed (I was generously given a “musical supervisor” credit for suggesting the Journey hit), calling it an “important” effort in a TV interview last night. Sure, Cuban spoke about it only briefly, but he did go out of his way to bring it up. Note to Reidster: since he obviously reads your e-mails and admires your work, maybe you could talk to Mr. Cuban about funding your next feature?

If you haven’t checked it out yet, here’s my article from this week’s Weekly on Yale Lewis, George Clinton’s lawyer. You can pick up a copy of the print edition until tomorrow morning, when the next issue comes out.

I also recommend this video by my friend Patrick on the recently deceased photojournalist Dith Pran, who survived the Khmer Rouge and coined the term “Killing Fields.”

Finally, while Pran had the talent, determination, and luck to make it out of Cambodia, turn his experiences into a career, and help educate the world, he’s obviously the exception. I wonder what will happen to this guy. I can’t imagine being anything but indefinitely homicidally pissed after an experience like that. God bless America.

Every college hoop fan knows that April brings two things: the Final Four and a chorus of voices calling for Billy Packer’s head. Obviously, the former is reaching what should be an exciting crescendo with tonight’s run n’ gun Memphis/Kansas match-up. But to assure myself that everything’s right with the world, I typed “Billy Packer” into google. Lo and behold, the annual tradition of the “fire Packer” petition is alive and well. They’re almost at 6,000 signatures.

Let me be the billionth person to send my plea to the deaf ears of CBS: Get rid of Packer, at least for the Final Four. Everyone knows he’s an asshole, and you have a national treasure in Bill Raftery ready to take his spot.

Memphis guard Chris Douglas-Roberts on star teammate Derrick Rose’s stomach troubles:

“He eats Gummy Bears and Starburst for breakfast, and Twizzlers and Honey Buns for dinner. That’s why his stomach hurts. We tell Derrick the whole year, ‘Stop eating so many Gummy Bears and Sour Straws.’ But he can’t. … Nobody eats Gummy Bears more than him.”

Apologies to any remaining readers for my prolonged dereliction of posting duties. It will continue, as I’ll be in Mexico the next six days for my friends Nick and Elizabeth’s wedding. In the meantime, enjoy Golden State Warriors star Baron Davis on roller skates (with a vintage New Edition sountrack!). It’s not new to the Internet, but it’s new to me, and I spend a lot of time on the Internet reading about basketball, so I figure it may be new to some of you:

A few years ago, I spent a summer in Atlanta, and I recall the MARTA ride to the airport passing a large, dilapadated building on the side of which was spraypainted something like “The End Times Is Near!”

Well, with financial markets and cranes collapsing, I figured it was time to check in with the world’s foremost rapturologists at Rapture Ready’s Rapture Index to learn whether the End Times are in fact arriving. It turns out that even with today’s financial collapses, the Rapture Index is only at 168. Yesterday’s 169 was actually our high for the year—and was still well off the all-time high of 182 on September 24, 2001. Oh, how I yearn for the halcyon days of December 1993, when we heathens felt safer with the Rapture Index at an anemic 53!

The number of variables in the Rapture Index makes me wonder whether End Times forecasting has spurred a cottage industry of amateur statistical analysis the way baseball and basketball have; i.e. whether there are a bunch of believers coming up with their own (unprovable) formulas at home. What a hobby—endless fun in an ending world!