I don’t know how I got mixed up with the idiots who run this site, although let me tell you this – the Anthem Singing Breasts don’t know what ‘last call’ is, okay?

So here’s the deal: NBA rotisserie – stack up on centers. Seven, eight at least. Why not? What do you care? If you knew what you were doing you wouldn’t be reading my column. I didn’t get to corrugated products portfolio manager at Bear Stearns by following morons like you, I LEAD. Centers. I know - Iverson-Kobe-Bibby, blah, blah, blah. Get one guard. A coach. A forward. Seven centers. Take Garnett as a bluff and dump him 30 seconds before trade deadline like a hot chick dumps a bartender. Oh, let me guess, “who do I get for Garnett, Mr. Castagna?!” Uhhh, let’s see…a center?! Perhaps?!

You have figured out the point of rotisserie by now, haven’t you? No, you haven’t. I can see the blank look on your face like a cow going to the stun pen. NO – not money. What “money?” a $1500 office pool? Good God man, get a job. The point of rotisserie is dominance of your friends. Period. If you make your rotisserie moves right you will psychologically control your group of friends up to fifteen people. Yours. “Allan, what are you doing tonight?” “Allan, can I play racketball with you?” “Allan, what do you think of that Feruza chick?”

Get it? You will rule the roost. Now excuse me, I’m late for a Fannie Mae disposal seminar. One word: CENTERS. And I bet you – I bet you – you don’t listen to me.

Allan Castagna