Perhaps I should have lent more credence to Tom Thibodeau's stubbornness, because I must admit that I never, in my wildest dreams, foresaw Jimmy Butler's extremely inevitable eviction from Minnesota getting to this point. That said, I couldn't be happier that it has, as I am very here for every hilarious...ahem...stroke of genius that Jimmy Butler has brought to the NBA canvas in painting himself as an unrelenting asshole. Assuming he didn't jam his finger in the revolving door of Andrew Wiggins' defense, I have no choice but to assume that this was neither his first nor last, but definitely his most literal attempt at telling the organization that employs him to hold his dick. The truth is, I really shouldn't endorse a professional athlete treating a game that he's getting handsomely compensated for like a one-man pettiness exhibition, but - in my heart of hearts - I just can't get enough of Jimmy Butler one-upping himself in trying to bully his way off a team that continues to call his "bluff" while he's clearly showing a upper hand. Everyone loves the cult-classic Office Space, and what we are witnessing is the closest thing to it playing out in real life. Like, this saga doesn't even need a Milton. Screw the red stapler. By going to such extreme lengths in doing whatever the hell he wants with his only repercussion being a complete lack of repercussions, Jimmy Butler is basically torching the Minnesota Timberwolves' credibility as a franchise. Playing consecutive possessions of professional basketball, during which he was in man-to-man defense on the ball, with his shooting hand down his shorts is as ridiculous, if not more so, than drilling down the walls of your cubicle without consent. If absolutely nothing else, the...ahem...balls it takes to do either are worthy of reverence.
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