I’m not going to lie to you. I know that I’m not supposed to scare you, but I feel like you’re old enough to deal with the truth.
The Memphis Grizzlies’ logo would straight up fucking murder you. No shit.
Look, I know what you’re saying.
“But Mike Conley doesn’t even scare people on Halo!”
“Hasheem Thabeet’s coordination make Donkey Kong look like a ninja warrior!”
“It’s blue, for Chrissakes! The last blue bear was a Care Bear!”
I get that. I hear you.
“There aren’t even any grizzlies in Memphis!”
Yeah, well there’s no music in Utah, but the Jazz play on. And this logo will fucking kill you.
It’s not just the sheer size of the head. Though it’s a gigantic melon. I mean seriously, it’s like sputnik. Spherical but quite pointy in some places. But the head has itself a force field. You think that weak-ass zombie-buck has a force field? No. It doesn’t. But what you don’t know is the force field isn’t to keep you out. It’s to keep the Grizzly in. It’s a self-restraint, built to pacify this demon that has been sent to rend you from inside out, like a Joe Crawford foul call or the latest album from Pearl Jam. And you will know its wrath.
You know why you will know its wrath? Because of the evil eye. Seriously. Check out that expression. That’s no screaming wussy tantrum-throwing Bear. This bear isn’t surprised to see you. It’s just ready to kill you. And leave you for dead. Possibly take a dump on you before wandering off to go have sex with some farm equipment. And that’s if you get the good side.
What’s the good side? The good side is one that isn’t obscured by shadow like the dark side of the moon. You know what lives on the dark side of the moon? No, not terrific albums from 60s rock legends. Hell. That’s what. There’s even a movie.
So before you go running around thinking you can go dancing with that bear, sweetheart, you better check yourself before you disembowel and get shredded by the icy cold claws of wrath yourself. This bear lives in Memphis, and its sweet blues rhythms will be the last thing you hear before you’re swallowed alive.
Seriously, dude. Farm equipment.
Matt Moore is an all-around nice guy who when not reading to kids who can’t read good or helping old ladies with their groceries writes about the NBA at Hardwood Paroxysm, NBA FanHouse and BusterSports.
And on the seventh day, Smoky the Bear said “You know what? Fuck it. Burn that shit down.”
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