The House of Tang: What's Up, Tang-o-Nauts?

Welcome to The House of Tang, people. My name is Rick Tang, and you know me from radio and the Internet, and you would know me from television if Fox Sports would stop bumping me for The World Championship of Bisexual Poker. Get it together, Fox! Those guys are playing Texas Hold 'Em...with their nuts! Look out!

I am your Tangmaster, but this space really belongs to you, the Tang-o-Nauts. You know what to do: have a good opinion. If you're a real high-octane Tang-flyer, you'll get lots of respect here. If you are not, our punishments are harsh. You might find yourself eating off of Jose Canseco's rim in the bathroom at Hooters Daytona Beach! Hey, Jose? What's Madonna up to these days? Tang Bang, everyone!

I got an email in the Tang Box last night from ChrisYankeesFan32. Oh, great. Another Yankees douche-monkey. The email goes: "Hey, there Rickie, too bad about the Red Sox. Looks like Johnny Gay-man is going to have to find a place to cry for the winter. Nice pitching from David Scrotum Swells. And way to strike out there with the bases loaded, Wommany Ramirez. Do me a favor, Sox. Why don't you go screw a dead nun and throw yourselves to the bottom of the Charles so rabid catfish can pick the flesh off your bones?"

Hilarious. The man has an opinion and he states it clearly. Way to go, Chris. Write any time. You are a true Tangmaster-in the House Of Tang!

So I'm watching old NBA games on the Tang-Vo last night in preparation for my fantasy draft, and I'm thinking, is there any basketball player better than LeBron James right now? In this hooood, LeBron, we got mad love for you. That's what 50 Cent might say if he wrote this column. But 50 Cent can't hang...in the House of Tang. Did you see that posterizer LeBron pulled on Richard Jefferson last season? So much chrome on my Benz, ya see your face in my rims! Jefferson was like, "Where's Weezie? Where's Weezie?" You're movin' on down, R.J.!

And another thing, Dirk Nowitski. Zieg fucking heil! Why don't you go back to doing what you're good at: putting little girls into ovens. Do me a favor, be German. Do everything that German people like to do, like eating sauerkraut and killing gypsies. But don't go strutting your ugly ass on TNT every week. Even so, if I were a girl, I'd do Manu Ginobili eight times a day.

You know, if I have to hear about Barry Bonds getting fluid drained from his knee one more time, I'm gonna go down to San Francisco (hands off, boys! I don't roll like that!) and make him drink a knee-fluid milkshake. There's no room for you at the table anymore in the House of Tang, you fluid-draining douchebag moron asswipe. I place a Tang-stained curse on you!

You know, if I ever got the chance to interview North Carolina basketball coach Roy Williams, I'd ask him, "Roy, what's it like in the locker room after a big win? Are the players all jacked or what? Or is it more of a go-about-your business kind of deal?" These are the kinds of questions that only get asked in Tang-land.

My three-year-old son is getting into the act, too. The other day, he said, "Daddy, Spongebob smells funny." And I said, "That's probably because starfish have both male and female sex organs-and he spent all night in Patrick's bed, Schtang!" Then he said, "Dad, is Spongebob a fag?" And I said, "We don't talk like that in the House of Tang, son. Now go lick yourself in the bathtub."

Time for one more email. This one got zapped to me on the Tang-net. DoctorDouche from Grand Rapids writes: "Tang-man, I am so sick of Jeff Gordon! I would love to rig his car so it blew up in the middle of the race, killing him instantly and crippling several dozen people in the stands with third-degree burns." Jeff Gordon reads this column, so you know I can't endorse that kind of thing. But I'm warning you, Jeff! Watch your tailpipe, if you know what I mean. Especially if you're around Dirk!

I'm Tang. And I'm out.