Mississippi’s Big K.R.I.T. is fast becoming one of my very favorite young rappers. And the cover of his new album, “ReturnOf4Eva” (go on, download that!), painted by San Francisco artist Eric Bailey, is fast becoming one of my very favorite things to look at.

During a 400-meter qualifier of the 1992 Summer Olympics in Barcelona, a scene unfolded that has stuck with me until today — and I’m someone who can’t remember what he did on Saturday. A British runner named Derek Redmond tore his hamstring late in the race, hopped a few times, and collapsed onto the track. He lay there like he’d been shot; and while the winners were celebrating after crossing the finish line, he slowly rose to his feet and began limping pathetically toward the finish line. A few minutes and several dozen hops and leg-drags later, his dad burst onto the track and helped him shuffle across the finish line. (Here’s a video; pardon the corny narrative.) Sure Redmond didn’t win anything other than the sort of global pity usually reserved for Kansas City Royals fans, but he finished the race, which was pretty gangster, considering he was crying. And only, like, a billion-two were watching.

I was thinking of him the other day when I witnessed the New York Knicks lose their sixth straight game and still limp toward what is an almost certain playoff berth. (As of today, they are 4 1/2 games up, with eight games to play.) Sure they will eventually cross that finish line, staggering drunkenly. But without someone to help them — like, you know, several of their players — it’s going to be a long, miserable trip to the playoffs.

To a certain extent, this limping has gone on for nearly 40 years. Being a Knicks fan has, more often than not, been a burden to many of us who are over 30. Because our identity was more Toby Knight and less Bernard King, more Kenny “Sky” Walker and less… someone remotely talented.

There were a few years in the mid ’90s where the Knicks were beating the hell out of teams, and that was sure fun to watch. There were t-shirts that said, “Make ’Em Feel Ya” and everything. So what if we lost to the Bulls every year? Everyone lost to the Bulls every year.

But our identity, as long-suffering, yet extremely knowledgeable and good-looking fans, has been cemented by the fact that, instead of championships, we are forced to talk about Madison Square Garden being the basketball Mecca, albeit a Mecca regularly ransacked by the likes of the Grizzlies and the Nets. “We don’t win games, but we’re still New York and everyone still wants to play here. Except for… never mind.”

Two weeks ago, it seemed like the Knicks were going to be a troublesome opponent in the playoffs; two Top 5 scorers, a savvy point guard, a rookie ball of energy and a couple of lunch-pail role players. The trade to bring Carmelo Anthony to the team for a bunch of players that will never be part of a championship run (except maybe Ray Felton) was a sound basketball decision. With all of those players, they were a .500 team; in the near future (as in, next year at this time), they can be much, much more. This, despite the team’s current burden of trying to figure out how to get meaningful minutes out of “players” like Anthony “Fat Tattoos” Carter and Jared “Boo Radley, Jr.” Jeffries.

We knew that when Melo came over, either he or Amar’e Stoudamire would have to sacrifice for the team. And so we were okay with Stoudamire being a Scottie Pippen and assuming the sidekick role. But we weren’t prepared for him to become Pippin Took, fifth most important hobbit in the Shire. More often than not, Stoudamire appears to be one of those National Geographic frogs that blend into a leaf, in camouflage as he watches Carmelo do his thing.

Let me give you a best-case scenario over the final two weeks: the Knicks split half of their remaining games and stagger into the playoffs like Lady Gaga into 1Oak. Then they luck out and play the Heat, who out-suck the Knicks over a short series, and the Knicks move on to get pummeled by a team with a deeper rotation and more than seven guys who can tie their shoes and chew gum at the same time.

Worst case? They continue their Metsian death spiral, lose the rest of their games, fall out of the playoffs, GM Donnie Walsh’s wheelchair spontaneously combusts and Isiah Thomas shows up at 2011 training camp in a golf cart driven by Stephon Marbury. New coach? Bill Laimbeer.

Well, as I write this, the Knicks have tried desperately to throw the game away against the Orlando Magic before eventually winning in overtime, 113–106.

But down the stretch, they had the game in the bag and then nearly let it slip away, despite Carmelo’s 39 points. Not good. The mixed result doesn’t prove which ending is more likely, which is just as well. We know how this race will ultimately end and it will not be nearly as pretty as our arena. Just ask us.

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo by Daniel Morris.

Ooh, smoke billowing at 14th and I, NW, in D.C.! Maybe it’s all the hot air being burned right now on Cabalist in the wake of that story on up-and-coming journalist-and-blogger Beltway Insiders, the one that had an all-male cast. Cabalist, should you not be a manly Beltway Insider yourself, is the email listserv Journolist replacement, where the in-the-know politicos discuss amongst themselves the weighty wonky workings of the world. (I’m jealous! I want in!) Here’s a brief note to our wonky Cabalistic boyfriends in D.C.: whenever a reporter calls, you always ask with whom else he is speaking. And who his editor is. And what his brief is. And you make yourself familiar with his work. And then you make suggestions of who else he should talk to! That’s called “not getting set up.” There’s no excuse for a reporter to be surprised by another reporter! And it actually is the subject’s responsibility to do that, and the subjects of stories often actually do know in advance what the article is going to say — because they ask questions. And what’s more, there’s plenty of people who happily say “actually, please do not write about ‘how awesome’ I am.” Because it might not be good for them.

Still, in the end, none of this matters. Who knows better than the folks that cover politics that there’s no difference between negative and positive attention these days? Now go get me some coffee, ladies.

“The physicist Brian Cox is not an elected fellow of the Royal Society, as we described him (Better than rock’n’roll, 24 March, page 5, G2). He has a university research fellowship. The same article described Cox as standing ‘legs akimbo’. Arms can be akimbo, legs can’t. It means hands on hips, with the elbows outwards.”

“You can bet your ass, I’m not going to be mean to Willie Nelson.”
 — Hudspeth County (TX) District Attorney Kit Bramblett explains the plea deal he has offered to the country legend for his misdemeanor marijuana charge. “I’m going to let him pay a small fine and recommend community service,” said Bramblett, who also suggested that Nelson should sing “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain,” a favorite song of the judge Nelson will be appearing before, in the courtroom.

Congratulations to Tommy Hilfiger’s latest, appearing in this month’s GQ. My God, who puts a sweater over his shoulders when he’s not even wearing a shirt? And why are those croquet balls mixing it up with those golf balls? Why is it hot enough to play croquet shirtless but cold enough to play golf with a blazer over some kind of warm-up zippie thing? Why are they dressing all Savannah and Palm Beach, all pastel and sockless, in what is clearly New England, due to the vegetation? Why did the gardeners do such a terrible job on that grass? And is it or is it not white shoe season? And when did they get matching love bracelets made out of their grandfather’s ties? Why is Tommy Hilfiger representing his stores as being based in New York, Shanghai, Milan and Istanbul? I mean, there’s one in the Jersey Gardens mall in Elizabeth, NJ, too, for starters. Other than all that, I want to live inside here, except it looks kind of humid.

The 11-year-old in Texas who was raped by a group of men was not, it turns out, asking for it, reports the paper of record, which was previously not really clear regarding the sixth-grader’s ability to be considered a “proper” rape victim. (That is, when the paper wasn’t overly concerned about the futures of the young men involved.) Yes, it’s do-over time on the most outrageous story in the world, one that was so wildly mishandled that it prompted world-wide outcry and now… another, more thorough story — a story that is now about a “nightmarish ordeal.” (You think?) It turns out the 11-year-old in question was a very happy, “bubbly” young person who underwent a drastic and rapid personality change over a period of months. This personality change — in which she began to “dress older than her age,” as per the original story — apparently manifested at the same time that she began to be regularly sexually assaulted. (Go. Figure.)

In any event. This new story contains tons of really, really terrible detail and is probably not best read first thing in the morning! One thing to know is that Cleveland, Texas, only has a population of 7,605 — there’s only like 800 students total in the high school! — and nineteen young men are being charged.

by Lili Loofbourow

I’m an advice column junkie. I’ve never submitted a question but I read them obsessively. I also enjoy eavesdropping in the comments sections below as “Willow07” and “Jim no avatar” wrangle over the thorny issue of whether the obsessive-compulsive should or should not apologize for reorganizing his mother-in-law’s Ladies of the American Revolution tampon collection. And if my reading has taught me anything, it is this: The debate is never really about the tampon collection. It’s actually about defining standards we can all agree to when we condemn people and how we prioritize them. This kind of extra-legal self-legislation is — let’s be honest — the only form of democracy we can actually participate in and enforce. (Sometimes it even pretends to be legal; this is why I loved Judge Wapner as a kid and why my dad loves Judge Judy.)

But there are other pleasures to be had, too. On the reader’s side, it’s voyeurism clothed in public spirit’s garb. There might be some abstract curiosity about how to define or be a Good Person. On the writer’s side, it’s public confession, penance and absolution. With the double-plus of anonymity and exhibitionism! It’s all marvelously Catholic.

It’s also a completely bizarre social contract. Who decided someone with no apparent qualifications got to be the moral arbiter for a society? Where did this all start?

Picture it: London, 1691.

The “Ask A” genre was invented by one John Dunton, bookseller, who was taking a walk one day and told his friends (in a move future advice columnists would diagnose as passive-aggressive) that he’d just gotten an absolutely amazing idea but couldn’t tell them what it was.

Here’s his account:

I was one day walking over St. George’s fields, and Mr Larkin Harris were along with me, and on a sudden I made a stop, and said Sirs, I have a thought I will not exchange for 50 guineas’…. the first hint of it was no more than a confused idea, of concealing the Querist, and answering his Question. However, so soon as I came home, I managed it to some better purpose, brought it into form, and hammered out a Title for it.

That title was The Athenian Gazette: Or Casuistical Mercury, Resolving all the most Nice and Curious Questions proposed by the Ingenious of Either Sex.

Here’s how it worked: Say you were wondering, as many a good English citizen might, whether the Pope is the Antichrist. Delighted that there’s finally a group of eminent scholars you can ask, you send your question either to the Roterdam Coffee-House in Finch-lane or to the one in Stocks-Market. The illustrious “Athenian Society” (which was, basically, just Dunton and two of his pals) would then meet twice a week at Smith’s Coffeehouse to answer the questions, which they published from 1691 until 1697.

It was a new idea and not without its skeptics (one person wrote in to ask, “Why do you trouble your selves and the world with answering so many silly Questions?”). It also proved to be incredibly popular.

The response was so overwhelming that the “Society” had to issue a set of rules in Volume 2. Among other things, they order Querists to limit their questions to one or two at a time, “send no more Obscene Questions, for we shan’t answer ‘em” and to ask “nothing, the Answer of which, may be a Scandal to the Government, or an Abuse to particular Persons” (although the King of France comes in for his share of abuse).

Luckily for us, the rules were less restrictive in practice than they seem. The columns offer us a glimpse of what people, offered an anonymous platform for the first time, wanted to know. If you read Dear Margo and are French, you might, after reading this, lean back in your chair, blow a smoke-ring and grunt “plus ça change!” If you’re not and don’t, well, some things might just sound familiar.

Let me tell you about a problem a “friend” of mine is having.

Q: I knew a gentlewoman who wept the first night she slept with her husband, whether was it joy, fear, or modesty that caused these tears?*

A: We shall rather attribute it to a fearful modesty, than joy, or any other cause, because we find no instances of widows, when upon their marrying again have wept going to bed. Plutarch treating on modesty argues that though it be a weakness, it’s an argument of a virtuous and ingenuous soul. Mandesto in his Travels says a young woman of Japan, being on her knees at the end of a table, waiting on her master in the apartment of women, and over-reaching herself to take a flagon that stood a little too far from her, chanced to break wind backwards, with which she was so much ashamed that putting her garment over her head, she would by no means show her face, but with an enraged violence taking one of the nipples of her breasts into her mouth she bit it off; with the anguish of which, and the shame she underwent, she immediately died in the place. This last instance deserves our pity, but the instance in the question our admiration, and wishes, that there were more instances of this sort, and less of the impudent and shameless behavior of the contrary.

Moral: If your wife weeps on your wedding night, she deserves our admiration. If only other women were modest like her, but not so modest that they suicidally bite off their own nipples when they fart.

Wimmenz be lying, amirite?

Q: Whether a woman may be believed when she says she’ll never marry?

A: Yes, as long as she keeps her word, and longer than that you’ll hardly believe a man.

Moral: What?

Should we move in together?

Q: Whether it is lawful for two unmarried Persons, each consenting, to cohabit, etc. since marriage was a thing set up by Man?

A: Marriage as to the Essential part of it, was first constituted in Paradise: And as man was endowed with reason, so the external ceremonial parts were first left to his discretion. But when the world came to be peopled, and governments fixed, care was taken for the establishing laws, and amongst the rest a settled public solemnization of marriages — it being a contradiction that government could be happy and at peace without a certain method and way was established for legitimacy of succession in estates, etc. It’s true in the Law of God we find not the least footstep of any ceremonial nuptials, or other marriages, than a continued cohabitation and its consequences, but silence is no certain argument that there was none, those that consult history will find it universally agreed upon (as if nature dictated it) that all nations had a certain public manner of solemnizing their marriages. And though our eminent lawyers lay down no other fundamental Act of Marriage than bed and board for a legitimacy of succession: yet this alters not the nature of politics, nor frees these clandestine aggressors of the civil ends of government from the scandal and infamy that national custom charges them with, nor the impiety they are guilty of by being an offence to tender and unsatisfied consciences, which every honest man would avoid, that has learnt this great truth, that no Man is born for himself.

Moral: Just because God didn’t say there was a law doesn’t mean that there isn’t one. He might be hiding it. Saving it for a rainy day. Maybe it got lost in the Flood. Anyway, look, WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY. If you do this thing, you will be a clandestine aggressor harming the civil ends of government, and we will charge you with scandal and infamy.

Not that this happened to me or anything. I’m just curious.

Q: Why should the putting of a man’s hand in cold water occasion a sudden emission of urine, notwithstanding his being fast asleep?

A: That “notwithstanding” has lost its way, for if at all it must be when a man’s asleep, otherwise he must have a care here he touches his hands: Nor is there any difficulty in the emission when sleeping, more than waking, as appears by their sheets who have not the retentive faculty then, though at other times they are stanch enough. But we need not have wasted all these words about it, for we can assure the reader, ’tis a perfect vulgar error, as a thousand other received opinions are, and has nothing at all of truth in it — at least, in those experiments which we have made about it.

Moral: The Athenian Society performed some super-creepy experiments.

That advice-column chestnut, “Why do horses poop square?” makes its first documented appearance.

Q: Why a horse with a round fundament emits a square excrement?

A: The cells of the Colon form the feces into oblong cakes, and protrude them into the rectum, from whence they are exonerated by sphincter ani, which does not form them in the extrusion, the orifice being big enough to exonerate several of them at once. They are formed quadrangularly in the rectum, by protension and compression upon one another, as any other round or oblong substances which are soft would be, if they were thrust together. But yet some of them are not square on all sides, from this reason, they being discharged several of them at once, through a round fundament, the whole lump is round, the extremity and outward parts of it receiving their form agreeable to the thing forming, when at the same time the middle parts must needs be square, from the reason above. A Wide purse will admit several sorts of coin at the same time.

Moral: There are alternatives to making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

Also, can you recommend some good munchies?

Q: What is Time?

A: A continued flux or Chain of Nows.

Moral: Whoa.

Join us in future installments as the gentlemen of The Athenian Mercury take questions on love, superstition and settle once and for all the question of how evil is the Pope, really.

* Spelling and punctuation for all entries has been modernized.

Lili Loofbourow is a writer living in Oakland. She writes about 17th-century ideas of reading and digestion, cognitive science, Chile, and femscularity. She blogs for Ms. and as Millicent over here.

• “The Wisconsin Department of Justice announced Monday that former District Attorney Kenneth Kratz won’t face criminal charges over his alleged ‘sexting’ of several women, some of them victims of domestic abuse whose cases Kratz was handling.”

• “Waterproof [Louisiana] Mayor Bobby Higginbotham… has been held without bail since May of 2010…. Higginbotham’s counsel was disqualified by the DA, and the public defender had a conflict of interest, leaving the mayor with no lawyer. Two days before trial began, the DA gave Higginbotham 10 boxes of files related to his case. Higginbotham’s request for an extension to get an attorney and to examine the files was denied.”

• “On March 29, Wal-Mart v. Dukes will be argued in front of the Supreme Court. At issue is whether this sex discrimination case against Wal-Mart should be allowed to proceed as a class action…. Today we’re featuring quotes from women who have commented on our posts about the case, with striking examples of sex discrimination they have experienced on the job.”

• “This week the House will kick off its annual children’s game known as the Employment Non-Discrimination Act, with Rep. Barney Frank introducing the bill — an act the House has witnessed every year for, oh I don’t know, the last twelve centuries.”

“He continued to work, but the alcohol and drugs took their toll on his health and his art. By the mid-1990s he was down to 8½ stone, and, by his own account, ‘doing stupid things’ — though, as he later explained, he realised he had hit rock bottom only when he accepted a commission to paint the singer Diana Ross. ‘A week after she’d gone I received a big, brown manila envelope in the mail. It was filled with lurid images of sunsets and palm fronds. She wanted me to put them in the background.’ To his shame, he obliged.”
 — The Telegraph’s obituary of the artist Matthew Carr, who died last month at the age of 57, is a thing of wonder.