Yung Simba

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AN OPEN LETTER OF APOLOGY TO MR. LEBRON RAYMONE JAMES —— Dear LeBron, I come before you today not as a fan, not as a hater, but as a sinner seeking absolution from the only man in recorded history who has ever beaten Father Time in a game of one-on-one, talked trash during it, and then signed Father Time's jersey afterward. I have wronged you, King. I have wronged you grievously. I have wronged you in group chats. I have wronged you in comment sections. I have wronged you in front of friends, that "he's not even top 5 anymore" and I watched the light leave their eyes. I have carried that sin for months. Because tonight I witnessed a SPECTACLE. Tonight I witnessed a MARVEL. Tonight I witnessed a 41-year-old man, in his 23rd professional season, in a league full of genetic freaks who were in ELEMENTARY SCHOOL when he was already an All-Star, casually stroll into Toyota Center and remind an entire generation that the throne was never vacant, we were just looking at the wrong chair. I was a doubter. Say it with me. I. Was. A. Doubter. I said "the minutes are down." I said "the burst isn't there." I said "he's a compiler now" as if compiling 40,000 points is something you can do by accident, as if I could compile a grocery list without forgetting the eggs. I watched this man drop 19-8-13 in Game 1 with EIGHT assists in the FIRST QUARTER and I said "yeah but can he score?" I watched him go 28-8-7 in Game 2, strangle Kevin Durant to three second-half points, get to the line 14 times, throw down a two-handed dunk with 55 seconds left to seal it, and become THE ONLY PLAYER OVER 40 TO LEAD A PLAYOFF RUN IN POINTS, REBOUNDS, AND ASSISTS; and I, a clown, a fool, a man with functioning eyeballs and a functioning brain refusing to speak to each other. I said "let's see Game 3." Well. I saw Game 3. Let's talk about the last 26 seconds. Let's sit with the last 26 seconds. Let's LIVE in the last 26 seconds, because I will be living there, rent-free, for the remainder of my natural life. They were up SIX. Six points. In TWENTY-SIX seconds. That is a possession and change. That is a timeout and a commercial break. That is the window between "I should order food" and "never mind I'll just eat cereal." Toyota Center was SHAKING. The crowd was on its feet. The Rockets bench was already doing that little celebratory bounce, that premature bounce, that bounce that says "we got it." Somewhere in Houston, a man was pulling a Bud Light out of the fridge. Somewhere in Houston, a woman was texting her husband "told you." Somewhere in Houston, a child was being lifted onto his father's shoulders. The building was BOOKED. The building was CLOSED. The building was, as far as every person in it was concerned, a W. And then LeBron looked at the scoreboard. And then LeBron looked at the clock. And then LeBron decided, in what I can only describe as a cosmic, galaxy-brain, Men-in-Black-neuralyzer moment, that this was not going to be how the evening ended for any of us. What followed was not basketball. It was an exorcism. It was a man methodically walking through a haunted house turning off the lights one by one. Steal. Three. Somewhere in there a pass so audacious I started shaking in a hot room. The Toyota Center crowd went from LOUDEST BUILDING IN AMERICA to a library to a funeral to one of those silent monasteries where monks take a vow and only communicate through bells. You could hear the HVAC system. You could hear a Rockets fan, three rows up, whisper "no." You could hear the ghost of Hakeem Olajuwon apologize to the city on LeBron's behalf. Twenty-six seconds. SIX POINTS. He did not close the gap. He did not tie the game. He OPENED the gap in the other direction. He took the Rockets' lead, folded it in half, folded it in half again, and put it in his pocket like a receipt he might need for taxes. The scoreboard operator had to Ctrl+Z his entire career. The broadcast director cut to Austin Reaves on the bench and Austin Reaves had the face of a man who has just seen God and is slightly annoyed he didn't get a heads up. I watched it happen. I watched it happen LIVE. I have to be honest with you, I have to be honest with myself, I have to be honest with the NBA league office, the Basketball Hall of Fame, and God Almighty: I am not okay. I have not been okay since he hit the three. Archaeologists will one day unearth my twitter post and carbon-date it to "the night LeBron did the thing." Six points. Twenty-six seconds. A team, a building, a city, a narrative: dismantled. Not beaten. DISMANTLED. Taken apart piece by piece like IKEA furniture in reverse. The Rockets did not lose that game. They were disassembled on live television and shipped back to the warehouse with a note that said "return to sender, 41-year-old in aisle." So here, formally, in writing, with my full legal name attached and a witness present, is my apology: I, Jathin Pranav Singaraju, of sound mind and recently shattered worldview, do hereby and forever APOLOGIZE to LeBron Raymone James Sr. for every slanderous, disrespectful, hot-taking, podcast-brained, Twitter-poisoned, bad-faith, Jordan-stan-adjacent, ring-culture-addled, "he had help," "he left Cleveland," "he left Cleveland again," "the Heatles," "the block was a travel," "Kawhi did it with less," "MJ went 6-0," "but the 73-win Warriors," "but the 3-1 lead," "but load management," "but the minutes restriction," "but the Lakers are a play-in team," "but he can't close anymore," "but he's a regular season guy now," "but but but" — take that I have ever uttered, thought, liked, retweeted, or silently agreed with in my heart. I renounce them. All of them. I renounce them in this life and, should the technology become available, the next. I will never doubt you again. Not in this series. Not in this playoff run. Not in this career. Not in any GOAT debate, at any bar, in any group chat, at any wedding, at any funeral, at any deposition. If you come back next year at 42 averaging a 30-point triple-double I will not be surprised. If you come back at 45 coaching yourself I will not be surprised. If you are inducted into the Hall of Fame and then UN-inducted because you are somehow still playing I will not be surprised. If you erase a six-point deficit in twenty-six seconds again next week, on a Tuesday, against a random team, for no reason, just to remind us. I will not be surprised. The bar is on the floor. The bar is underground. The bar is in the Mariana Trench. The bar has achieved enlightenment and moved on. I am sorry, King. I am so, so sorry. I was wrong. The throne was never empty. Long live the King.

@TheMarketRaven avg is not 4.84 that’s lod but solid avg down

$QQQ @ 6.01 from 4.84

Wallahi I’ll miss taraweeh nights. May Allah allow us to live to witness Ramadan 2027

@sentdefender Just lying to the world 🤣

Reporter: “Mr. President, did Israel force your hand to launch these strikes against Iran?” President Trump: “No. No, I might have forced their hand. You see, we were having negotiations with these lunatics, and it was my opinion that they were going to attack first. They were going to attack. If we didn't do it, they were going to attack first. I felt strongly about that. great negotiators, great people, people that do this very successfully and have done it all their lives very successfully. And based on the way the negotiation was going, I think they were going to attack first. And I didn't want that to happen. So, if anything, I might have forced Israel’s hand. But Israel was ready and we were ready. And we've had a very, very powerful impact because virtually everything they have has been knocked out now.”

A 10 year old Somali Qari leads Salat Taraweeh in Denver, Colorado 🇺🇸

Ramaḍān – Day 6 Lam yalid wa lam yūlad — You were neither given birth to, nor will You give birth to anyone. Yā Allah this attribute is a honour to you and belongs to You alone, and to none of Your creation. Yā Allah, in this blessed month, we raise our hands on behalf of every man and woman who longs for children. Those who cry in the quiet of the night. Those who have waited patiently. Those whose hearts ache silently. Grant them righteous offspring. Grant them children who will be the coolness of their eyes and a source of joy in this world and the next. Replace their waiting with laughter, their tears with gratitude, and their patience with answered duʿāʾ. Yā Wahhāb, gift them from Your bounty what only You can give. Āmīn.

@CountOnVic I hope he gets extended closer to 28-29 minutes tn if we want a chance to win

Austin Reaves will save us.

Thank you, Coach Tomlin!

Aaron Rodgers’ REMARKABLE Game-Winning Drive, to lead his team into the playoffs at 42 years old.

all of us rn

We love you @HarriSmith22 💜

Cry about it

@salmaogs Anything for smci?

MAG 7 Dark pool prints: $MSFT $10.9BN @ $485.92 $META $9.9BN @ $658.77 $NVDA $6.9BN @ $180.99 $AAPL $6.4BN @ $273.67

@UnderdogNFL @toddarcher Pause Jerry

Jerry Jones on wanting Javonte Williams to return next season, via @toddarcher: "I love way he brings the wood, so to speak, when he runs. So looking forward to hopefully him being a Cowboy for a time to come."

@MarioNawfal Wrong and stupid reporting again. Do better

@FL0WG0D And another whale stepped in

$UUUU - Whale sold

$UUUU - $359K Call buyers

🐐

Please listen to and share his beautiful recitation of the Qur’an, as it may be counted as a sadaqah for him May Allah grant him the highest level of Jannah

Manchester City manager and football legend Pep Guardiola has spoken out in solidarity with Palestine, calling on people to flood the streets of Barcelona tomorrow to protest against the genocide. @PepTeam @Palestina_cat