I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. We've been in the lottery. Everybody's out of the playoffs or scared of losing their spot. Cap space buys a nickel's worth; teams are going bust; GMs keep a gun under the counter; fans are running wild in the street, and there's nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do, and there's no end to it. We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat. And we sit watching our TVs while some local sportsscaster tells us that last season we had Nolan Smith and Luke Babbitt, as if that's the way it's supposed to be! We all know things are bad -- worse than bad -- they're crazy. It's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out any more. We sit in the house, and slowly the world we're living in is getting smaller, and all we say is, "Please, at least let Batum be a top five ranked SF. Let me have my Summer League games and some nice FA acquisitions and an underestimated draft pick, and I won't say anything. Just leave us alone." Well, I'm not going to leave you alone. I want you to get mad! I don't want you to protest. I don't want you to riot. I don't want you to write to Adam Silver, because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. I don't know what to do about the depression and the inflation and the Russian owners and the crime in the stands. All I know is that first, you've got to get mad. You've gotta say, "I'm a Trail Blazers fan, gosh darnit! My life has value!" So, I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window, open it, and stick your head out and yell, "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!!" paid for by the commission to see LMA get his due respects.