When the Knicks traded Kristaps Porzingis, my soul left my body. This is a protective measure, like evacuating a home on fire. One waits outside to see how hot and long the thing burns, then returns to pick through the ashes. While I was outside, I got a lot of texts and DMs and stuff. I bet you did, too: an equal mix of WTF DROWN ME IN A VOLCANO and you okay? and we need to pay rent.
My response to all that was “whatever.” I’m dead inside.