Halftime prayers shouldn't count. Although I guess some players — Ron Artest, for one — have professed to practicing them. Amended: Halftime prayers by players who don't practice 40-footers shouldn't count.

Daps to the scorekeeper who singlehandedly gave the Kings a shot at the buzzer. I can't find a clip of Leandro Barbosa's face when the errant shot clock sounded, but I watched it numerous times this morning. It helped ease the pain of a winnable loss. I guess it's the little things in life, like a small Brazilian going from alarm to panic to dread in half a second.

I'd analyze the game further, but… that was just a bizarre game, no? I can't even judge whether the Kings offense was good or terrible without looking at the numbers. It was good and terrible, I guess I'm saying. That's what you get When Francisco Garcia Happens.

Mikki Moore's enthusiasm, I must say, is contagious. I toasted a killer bagel this morning — absolute perfect crispness with the right texture on the edges. Truly a work of art. Since I want to be more like Mikki, I pounded my chest and screamed. I figure it's no more absurd than when Mikki does it after he fouls a guy and said guy misses one of two from the line. Maybe after I make my roast beef sandwich for lunch I'll mimic Ron Artest's bodybuilder pose. And when I rake the leaves, we'll get a Franciscoesque hand wave, like "That ain't sh*t, you should see me with a lawnmower." Kind-of like how Francisco hit two big threes, did his little hand wave each time, and took a 30-footer with 15 seconds on the shot clock. "It ain't sh*t, man."

Kings basketball has me excited. How about you?