Dwight Howard and a lost art

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Let’s try this, shall we?

Ask yourself: What if Dwight Howard were gay?

Now let me throw another question at you: What if Howard were straight?

OK, stay with me here, because this is where it gets tricky. Ask yourself this: In either case, does the answer demonstrably change your life? Affect it in any way? Even one iota?

No. The answer – the only reasonable answer – is no. My guess is, even if you’re a basketball fan, you woke up this morning and probably had no idea which NBA team currently employs Dwight Howard. (Answer: the Memphis Grizzlies.) But who can keep track? Charlotte, Washington, Memphis, whatever. I mean, who cares, really? You were still able to roll out of bed, drink your latte, watch game highlights, bake a quiche, hit the gym, knit your grandma a beer koozy, change your oil, binge-watch the first season of “Gentleman Jack,” then be on your merry fucking way, yeah?

Yeah.

And that’s how it’s supposed to work.

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