Today, Mama’s Cafe is half-owned by her horse’s ass of a daughter, sleepy with obvious brain damage and an uncategorical inability to apply heat to ingredients in any meaningful way. Somehow, Mama’s Cafe still claims the best omelettes this side of Satan’s taint, a destination nearly as palatable as CAA’s wretched pus pit of villainy in Century City.

While this may have been true in the blissful days before the fetid rot of nefarious minds like Mama’s daughter’s dolt of a husband clogged all the pores of Pratt, one taste of the misnamed Denver omelette in a recent visit proves that not even the latest shameful attempts at breakfast can bring life back to a limp kitchen run by an Isiah Thomas-type charlatan. The only thing Denveresque about the meal was the mile-high disappointment.

The waitress, a poor everywoman born and raised in Pratt and forced to scrape by on tips while fat cats like Mama’s brood and her witless groom soak in the moderate profits of the trade, screamed for help with her eyes while bringing me complimentary milk. The milk, likely extracted unwillingly from a cow molested daily by an inbred Leon Rose of a man, tasted of dairy fat and shamed bovine.

A source close to the cow ruefully added, “Moo moo moo [expletive] moo moo.” Indeed.

Mama’s son-in-law, a calamitous deviant with all the influence of Worldwide Wes on his thin stretch of Main Street, decimated the nearby hardware store and the florist with his guttural instinct for empire-building and his Neanderthal skill at maintaining a business. Now he has crushed the menu at Mama’s through cheap chicanery intended to extract every dime from an unwitting populace.

The Southwest omelette is now accurately named because the customer receives one-quarter the meal he once did. The scrambled eggs offer so much torture on a plate that their overly airy preparation clearly involves beating the eggs, the hen, and a nearby basset hound. And the Eggs Benedict? Only LeBron would call them his favorite meal.

The chef, having joined the kitchen six years ago at Mama’s request before she shuffled off to the Shady Thomas nursing home not entirely of her own choice, has tried his best. He once composed a meal of competent measure, though never up to the standards of Mama’s best. However, meddling in the kitchen by Mama’s boy-by-law has reached genocidal level, killing an entire class of meals in Pratt with an angry and overfull fist of salt and venom.

Those hoping for a return to Mama’s home cooking should save their shekels and schlep their broken dreams down a few streets to Homestead Ave. and the new Proski’s Diner. The food isn’t much better, but there’s more of it and I have total access to the kitchen, so I’ll probably write about it more.

What’s the difference between Jim Cleamons and Doc Rivers, really?  Where did these two men separate from “fairly intelligent and observant journeyman NBA player” into “Phil’s right-hand man” and “emotional leader of the world champion Boston Celtics”?

And, for that matter, what’s the difference between Michael Curry, Vinny Del Negro, and Terry Porter?

Yeah.  So.  Let’s talk about this.

We were rather stridently against the Doug Collins near-selection because of what it represented: an utterly unoriginal mindset built to withstand failure but not to procure success.  This would rather be the opposite on a superficial level.  It shows bravery by John Paxson to take on an unknown quantity to lead his last charge up Eastern Conference Hill. 

Except, of course, it doesn’t.  If we had to guess at this early juncture, we’d take hubris and control for the block.  

One of our favorite rumors of the selection process (which received its 10-year plaque last week; congratulations and enjoy the new steak knives!) involved Reinsdorf forcing Collins down Paxson’s throat and Paxson refusing to accept direction from above, instead choosing to drag out the selection process until Collins or Reinsdorf caved.

We have no concrete reason to believe this was true other than it fits the story so far quite well.  Paxson has been deliberate to the point of gridlock in nearly every major decision affecting the franchise since his ascension to the general manager post.  We had previously associated this trait with the distinct scent of waffles that drifted from his office each morning.  Now we suspect he just really likes waffles and demands them each morning with exactly 8 oz. of syrup.  No more, no less.

Del Negro represents an unknown quantity completely beholden to Paxson.  If he succeeds, Paxson will be a genius (or, more accurately for him, revealed to be the genius he already knows himself to be).  If he doesn’t… what did you all expect from a no-name coach?  Besides, he won’t fail.

We sincerely wish Del Negro the best in his new position and will help out where we can.  (Where do the towels go, chief?)  However, we do not see this as bright new thinking in a bold new direction.  We see someone in power taking on a “character guy” lackey he can control completely in the face of an unruly mob in desperate need of strong guidance.  That’s not exactly a new tale.

In other words, we’ve gone from getting Scott Skiles twice in a row to the return of Tim Floyd.  Sam Smith’s blog posts for the next three seasons are already queued.

(One point that bothers us about our own admittedly facile analysis: Tim Floyd was much more the huckster than Del Negro seems to be.  We really do wish we could have seen that interview between Paxson and Del Negro.  Do you think they went fishing?)

Color us dense, but we noticed something recently on Pro Basketball Reference while researching The Fall of Flip that we found rather striking: Flip Saunders has a height and weight listing under his coaching profile.  (5′11″, 175 lbs. for those of you counting at home.)  We couldn’t believe it.  This is important information about the coach?  Is there a weigh-in day for coaches where George Karl strips to his boxers and wiggles onto the scale?  (”Okay… minus the 12 oz of Schlitz in his hand, he’s 6′2″, 185 lbs.… George, put the other foot on the scale.  Seriously.”)

We kept checking randomly.  Only some coaches have measurements.  Allan Bristow, Kevin Loughery, John Lucas, Bill Fitch – yes.  Frank McGuire and Jim Boylan – no.  Okay, we figured: it’s bleeding through from their player profiles when they were pros.  Except, of course, Fitch and Saunders never played in the pros.  So maybe college stats?  But why track college stats of men that never played in the pros? We’re not sure.

Until someone proves otherwise, though, we will assume now that there is a head coach weigh-in day in the NBA and that’s the day that Jeff Van Gundy (5′9″, 150 lbs.) called in sick each year.  (”Sorry, Jeff… the only way the scale can detect you’re there is if we weigh you while you hang from Alonzo Mourning’s leg and then weigh him separately.  Oh… oh, stop crying, Jeff.  It’s okay.  You’re the Knicks’ big boy!  Yes, you are!”)

Here’s a clear shot from the daily Ice Machine, with crystal blue linkage of stories that will refresh you during your lunch break (since this isn’t likely to be a morning feature for the next two weeks):

Normally, we provide multiple links in this space, providing a bit of a pick-me-up/simple distraction.  However, we can only think of one topic today, so we beg your indulgence: Doug Collins is the new head coach of the Chicago Bulls, according to the Chicago Tribune.  Yes, he’s also the old head coach before Jordan forced him out.  

We have come to a deeply disheartening view of the Bulls and of all Chicago sports we wish to share with you now.  We highly recommend sitting down and consuming a calming beverage of your choice before continuing.

To wit: The Chicago Blackhawks are the most innovative sports franchise in Chicago today.

The Chicago Bulls have selected two high-strung defensive-minded coaches with short coaching life spans in a row.  They will select Michael Beasley in the draft because big men are always drafted when possible because That’s the Way It Is.  There will be grit and determination and heart and Derrick Rose will become the second point guard to leave Chicago and become a star in Miami.  (Star Jones has cleared her schedule in 2011.)

The Chicago Cubs installed Jim Edmonds in center field.  Their business innovations have involved allowing their head of marketing to be stolen by the Blackhawks (along with his key lieutenants) while trying to sell the naming rights to Wrigley Field, which is an incredibly old and played-out idea.  Their drafts have been unremarkable, highlighted by an attempt to draft a Notre Dame wide receiver because he throws so darned hard and isn’t that sexy?

The most creative thought held by a Cubs official in the last few years has been to try to sell Wrigley Field to the state to handle all the upgrades.  However, “highway robbery” has a long tradition unto itself.

The Chicago White Sox had a case to move to the head of the class in 2005 and possibly 2006, but now they are repeating the same mistakes in the draft and on the field without any self-awareness.  They would still win this anemic competition for their Carlos Quentin fixation last winter, which showed the ability to project past the problems and towards the solutions.

The Chicago Bears… if anyone has broken the key and deduced their plan involving building an offense or keeping an aging defense functional, please contact us by calling the station.  Thanks for your time.  (Also, we liked their recent draft, but we don’t know if we’d call it mold-breaking.  Their marketing has been yeoman-like but not exceptional.  They’re just… y’know… there.)

However, the Chicago Blackhawks have truly stepped forward in the last 12-18 months into solid competency.  The on-ice product has improved and shows signs of continuing to do so.  The off-ice marketing has proved at least interesting, with cross-sport promotion between the baseball teams in town and the Blackhawks.  Their games are on television, for crying out loud.  The new commercials have been well-focused and thoughtfully positioned.  They’re the only franchise in the city with organic buzz not built from getting really really lucky with ping-pong balls in a way that doesn’t involve Winona Ryder.

We could also argue the Chicago Fire have shown better innovation, especially with the Blanco signing, but their front office disarray and loss of goalkeepers leaves us uncertain at the moment.  Consider this an incomplete grade.

Therefore, we can only conclude the Wirtz-led franchise leads the pack in innovation.  The other franchises may succeed with their actions, but it will not be because they chose the right path after carefully considering many thoughtful and/or pioneering options.  It will be because they worked the checklist of What Should Be Done pathologically and got lucky.  That’s as entertaining as trainspotting.  (No, not that kind.)

Our Question of the Day should be obvious by now: What’s your choice for the most innovative sports franchise in Chicago today?

No one’s getting any work done anyway.

(Now let’s see if Paxson files for an extension with the league to hold the draft in December to give the organization more time to deliberate.)

(‘Nuff said.)

And may Utah’s fans deserve you, too, Deron.

City of Auburn Hills, MI, animal control officials were called to The Palace of Auburn Hills Tuesday night to deal with an infestation of an unknown kind, spotted first by television viewers of the Magic-Pistons game.  The creature, approximately five inches long and roughly circular, seemed to be an unnatural yellow color and roosted on color commentator and former head coach Mike Fratello’s head.  

Animal control officials were able to approach the beast and corral it for further tests after trapping it under a set of broadcast headphones.  Preliminary results suggest the creature is a mammal due to the presence of a womb on the creature and the milky smooth face of Mr. Fratello.

No one was harmed during the incident, though Mr. Fratello would not come out from under the TNT broadcast table until after the arena had been cleared after the game.

“Exams and testing done at The Cleveland Clinic today determined that he has allergies and a viral inner ear infection in his left ear with dizziness. He is currently listed as doubtful for Game 3 versus Boston tomorrow night (Saturday) at Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland.”

What on Earth could be in that haze that caused Ben Wallace to not just have an allergic reaction but infect him so badly that he may not play in this series? What could drive Ben Wallace away?