First, he nicknamed himself "the Truth, " which is totally unfair. You can't nickname yourself, and you certainly can't nickname yourself "the Truth" unless you're a boxer or streetball legend.
Second... good God! It's like a beautiful trainwreck over there. Blackened shards of sentences have buried themselves into the surroundings, blown free from grace and elegance by tremendous forces that render the shrapnel, well, humorous. I mean, sure, I'll throw something up with the occasionally wince-worthy typo. My sentences will have some clunk to them on occasion. But I head over to Foster's new home and I see paragraphs without spaces between them, the word "pixie" spelled "pixy," and this goofy little passage:
All of a sudden you have a Philly team that did not believe, thinking it can win at The Palace. It is a can of worms you do not want to deal with.Hurray for extraneous commas! Hurray for sentences that sound like a robot attempting to master hoonam slang!
HELLO CARL. WE ARE TO TALK THE SLANG. IT IS A CAN OF WORMS YOU DO NOT WANT TO DEAL WITH. I WILL EXECUTE THE WHOOP-ASS ON YOUR ASSOCIATED PROCESSES. DIVIDE BY ZERO ERROR!!! NULL REFERENCE EXCEPTION!!! I AM DYING I AM DYING. WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME CRUEL MASTER?
It's just so... so... bloggy, in the pejorative sense of the word. Bloggy in the precious 14-year-old on Livejournal sense, the "you are such an amateur" sense. I'm shocked, because I actually thought his column was one of the better ones in the News/Free Press. Now I come to find that a team of editors was probably working overtime to correct his broke-ass prose. (Foster's column got axed recently. ("Axed" as in cut, Foster. No, I'm not asking you anything.))
Well, that's great... good job, Brian. Now you get to put a checkmark next to Terry Foster on your "Detroit Sports media who hate you" list, assuming that he reads this (highly unlikely).
More offseason basketball stat wonkery on the way.
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