we would travel together for the remainder of my journeys. we would return to my home in Canada and i would introduce her to my mother. they would talk over tea while i tell my father she is the women i would marry. and as i walk outside my home for a smoke and stare into the kitchen window, watching as my dearest wife-to-be laughed with my mom and pop, i couldnt help but picture our life together: a place in the lower west side of manhattan. return from the office to a hot meal, perhaps veal, maybe even a schnitzel. we would make two beatuful baby boys, twins.

and is this fantasy of mine, both my twin boy newborns are Stefan Nastic.

this is your boi C-sqaured, cory capland aka “the jewish jordan 2.0″ aka “the unibomber” aka “c-money freshy stank”.

I’d like to take this opportunity to holler at all them D-1 coaches out there and tell them that this kid is for real. He’s the most coveted prospect since the one and only Len Bias (god bless his soul, RIP).

There is simply nothing he cant do. A sexy little baby hook. A turnaround jimothy. More hops than a case of your finest swiss lager. The kid can flat out ball like its his nine to five.

His IQ? unmatched. His defense? Impenetrable. The kid just wins. Doesnt matter if its ball, checkers, limp bizkit. Like Yogi Berra, Tim Duncan, etc- he wins the damn game.

The fact is: When future generations of ballers look back on us from the great, grave distance of time, and seek to judge us for who weare and what we’ve done; when our descendants search for themselves in us, and ask how humanity rose to meet its fate across the ages; and when they hear our voices calling out to them through the howling vastness of the years, they will discover in a single defining cultural moment everything they so desperately seek….Stefan Nastic is that moment.

That one shining moment.