You've seen the video blog, you've watched his latest crap rap video...now thrill to the wonder of Ron Artest's new Internet reality show! If you've ever wanted to be a fly on the wall of Artest's life -- and who hasn't? -- then prepare to view the world through a fly's eyes. (And here's a little reminder: Flies eat poop.)

Via Ball Don't Lie, where J.E. Skeets provided the following viewer's guide: "Artest making fun of his Toyota Sequoia (5:15), popping out his fake front tooth while driving (7:30), struggling to assemble a tent for his daughter -- indoors (13:55), recording a new rap song while his nanny cleans around him (17:20), and a hilarious exchange with his son about getting his own shoe deal (20:00)." However, Skeets forgot to mention how Ron initiated a conversation about monkey brains at a Chinese restaurant around the 3-minute mark. Don't take my word for it. Watch.

Labels: crazy people, mucho crazy, reality TV, Ron Artest, so crazy it cannot be measured by modern science

Stephon Marbury -- last season's runaway winner of my Least Valuable Player award -- has stunned the world by announcing that his "marriage" with the New York Knicks is over. Yeah. That's like walking in on your father banging the maid on your mother's corpse and then having him calmly explain that daddy and mommy won't be living together anymore: You probably had that one figured out already.

Here's some of the choice quotage from Starbury's exclusive interview with the New York Post. Better sit down with a big box of Kleenex. This one's a tear-jerker of epic proportions.

"I sat there for three weeks and didn't say one word. I didn't hear one of my teammates say, 'Why isn't Stephon Marbury playing? This is a good system for him, even to play with the second unit and bring more firepower.'

"When things got bad and then worse, guys like Quentin Richardson say, 'I don't consider him a teammate. He let his teammates out to dry.' He didn't care I was his teammate when I was banished. They left me out for dead. It's like we're in a foxhole and I'm facing the other way. If I got shot in the head, at least you want to get shot by the enemy. I got shot in the head by my own guys in my foxhole. And they didn't even give me an honorable death.

"Mike [D'Antoni] had no intentions of me playing basketball here. He gave me straight disrespect. It was beyond disrespect. He put in (Danilo) Gallinari, whose back is messed up and (who) didn't participate at all in training camp ahead of me (in the season opener). That's saying, 'I'm letting you have it right now.' He was sticking it to me. He knew I was in my contract year and did everything they asked me to do. He's not trying to help me. He's trying to hurt me."

Ah. Only Stephon Marbury could invoke "shot in the head by my own guys" imagery only days after New York Giants wide receiver Plaxico Burress shot himself in the leg at a nightclub. And if history has taught us anything, it's that Starbury should keep his mouth shut during any and all NFL-related controversies. As well as every day of the week that ends in "day."

The Knicks, obviously, need to just buy out Marbury's contract and be done with the whole mess. And fast. After all, according to Google research scientists, we've almost depleted the Internet's once vast resource of angry Stephon Marbury images. Of course, Donnie Walsh has stated over and over that he's opposed to buyouts...but the reality is he's just trying to force Marbury to accept less than the $20 million he's owed. Think it's working? Said Marbury: "They want to take my money. I'm not going to let them." Translation: Hell no, it's not working.

But hey: LeBron in 2010!! Okay. Has everybody forgotten about Marbury yet?

Labels: crazy people, Donnie Walsh, Mike D'Antoni, mucho crazy, New York Knicks, Stephon Marbury

...who would stalk Luke Walton? Well, here's the answer (via Deadspin):

Bloargh!
Her name: Stacy Elizabeth Beshear, 34, of El Segundo, California. Her game: Stalking the hell out of the Son of Walton. For a year. According to Sgt. Steve Tobias of the Manhattan Beach Police Department: "She had been following him to his practice site and following him home and repeatedly asking him to sign basketballs after he'd already done so. At one point, she got upset and was taking a Sharpie pen to his vehicle after he refused to sign a soccer ball."

It didn't end with those fun and games, though. On September 15, Beshear "crossed the line" by following Walton to the house of Lakers teammate Jordan Farmar and pulling up next to him. Said Tobias: "She was following him for a large part of the day and at one point drove side by side with him and gestured at him, extended her hand out the window and acted like she was cocking a gun."

As you can imagine, this behavior freaked Walton the hell out: "It's bananas. I'll be going to sleep at night and just randomly look out the window. Just to check. Just because. She has been out there at 12:30, 1:30 in the morning. She would park outside my house for hours and hours. I would drive out, and I would see her peeking through. It would suck, because I know I'm leaving my home, and I know she's still there. What am I supposed to do? Is she planning on breaking in? Am I going to come home one day and she's sleeping in my bed? Is she going to steal my dog? You try not to think about it. But every time I see a black Honda now, I'm like, 'Is that her?' I'll slow down and look. It's like every day. There are a billion of these cars. Since I've noticed her, I've noticed these cars are everywhere. It's like I'm going paranoid like some movie character."

The source of the woman's insanity? Why, the trammels of unrequited love, of course. According to Walton, this is what crazy stalker lady said during her fake gun attack: "She told me that we belong together. And then she started flipping out about all sorts of stuff. She said she wanted to move to San Diego, but people wouldn't let her. I was like, 'What people?' She's like, 'The people! The people in the universe! They won't let me move, because they say you and I are supposed to be together.' I was like, 'Oh, wow. She's crazy.'"

Maybe that'll teach Luke the dangers of having such beautiful, glistening hair and powerful, rippling muscles. Sorry, where was I? Oh, yeah. Click here for even more of the whacky details.

Update! If Stacy is as batshit insane as I think she is -- and let's face it, she might go to jail for stalking Luke Walton, and that's pretty damn crazy -- what's she going to do when she finds out about Luke's threeway tryst with Karl Malone and Horace Grant? I'm not saying that she's going kill them and make clothes out of their skin, but if Grant or the Mailman find a bunny boiling on their stove someday, the police might want to give Stacy a ring. (Thanks to eljpeman for the reminder.)

How do you eat your Oreo cookie?

Labels: crazy people, holy crap, Luke Walton, mucho crazy, stalking

Important reminder! Check out my season preview for the Boston Celtics on Deadspin.

Labels: Boston Celtics, mucho crazy, NBA season preview, The Tao of Ron Artest