Welcome to the next edition of Jimbo’s Mailbag! At Salt City Hoops, we know that covering a losing team without any humor can be dreary. As such, we decided to add a little bit more levity to our site via Jimbo’s unique outlook on the world of Jazz basketball. Interested in submitting a question to Jimbo’s mailbag? Email it to Jimbo at firstname.lastname@example.org or tweet @JimboRudding to appear.
Q: If the Jazz Dancers came to my daughter’s birthday party would they give out Phillips 66 balls or Nu Skin products?
I always thought it would be so awesome to catch one of those Phillips 66 balls during a game and getting at least two or three random high fives from strangers seated nearby. With the Utah Jazz playing like they have been the last few years, it’s been a long time since a stranger has offered to slap my hand during a game.
The “stranger high-five” is such an anomaly. I find it so weird that we can spend a couple hours sitting right next to someone and at the exact moment the team we are both rooting for does something well, we decide to smack our hands together and give the occasional hug. Even if that IS how I met my wife, I still think it is strange that we do that.
Q: What have you done or are you planning to do with Mark Jackson’s offer to personally call anyone that buys his wife’s single?
I’m glad you asked this question because I was totally unaware that Mark Jackson was married still. If I were to purchase this beautiful single and I got to talk to him on the phone, here is a list of possible things I could say to him:
Like an idiot, I would probably forget about caller ID and he would track me down, beat me up, and leave me tied to a tree outside a movie theater in only my underwear. But at least I would have gotten all of that off my chest. Plus, I’d have a beautiful new song to listen to on my iPod as I recuperated from my injuries.
Q: Would you rather have Jimmer retweet you or Derek Fisher admit he’s a dirty liar?
Both of these scenarios seem very desirable. However, I feel like if Jimmer retweeted one of my tweets I would probably bring that up during casual conversation for the rest of my life. Then maybe I would–uh oh…oh great…here we go…I’m being whisked away into one of those “I meet Jimmer in line somewhere” fantasies.
(Jimmer and I are in line at Costa Vida.)
“This waterfall window thing is crazy, right?” I ask timidly.
“Uh…yeah…crazy.” he answers softly.
“I want one for my house. Ha ha!” (I laugh way too loudly for something that unfunny.)
(Jimmer doesn’t respond and there are a few minutes of awkward silence.)
“I’m thinking about buying a telescope,” I say proudly.
(Jimmer stays silent.)
“You know, I’m pretty good at harmonizing to the theme song from Charles in Charge. Do you sing?”
(Jimmer turns around and walks out the door, deciding instead to eat Café Rio.)
Q: What in THE hell is wrong with you?
– My Uncle Dale (after reading the first few mailbags)
This is a hard question to answer, Uncle Dale. I like to think that I’m unique; that maybe I see the lighter side of things. However, I still remember that family barbecue where you told me to “stop daydreaming about if Yoda had kids and go grab the A1 sauce from the fridge!” That was when I came to the realization that maybe I was a little different than most people. Maybe I should be proud of the fact that I was given the rare gift that allows one to mentally escape from one’s everyday routine?
I’ve always been this way. When all the kids in school were worrying about Homecoming or biology tests, I was sitting in the corner of the classroom wondering if I could hang a hammock from one emergency sprinkler to another. When everyone in college was trying to decide what to major in, I was in the commons area wondering if I could tie a group of people together by throwing a boomerang with a rope attached to it around them. When everyone was getting married and having children, I was thinking about how funny it would be to duct tape a cat’s paws to a ceiling fan.
So, to answer your question Uncle Dale, YOU are what’s wrong with me. YOU did this to me by making me fetch all those sauces at family barbecues. You should be ashamed of yourself!
Q: If you could pick one Care Bear to be for seven months, which one would you pick?
Hmmm, this is a good question. My first instinct is to go with either Lumpy or Snickers. However, after looking on the internet and reading through the actual Care Bear names, I guess I would go with Wish Bear. Wikipedia says that “Wish Bear helps make wishes come true, and although they don’t always come true, making wishes and working hard to help make them come true is still fun.”
I think seven months would be long enough for Wish Bear to grant all of my Jazz-related wishes. Below is a list of the wishes I would ask him to grant me:
Thanks for the questions everyone!