Mike + Mike = ?

Living in the N-Y-C (Queens STAND UP!), I see lots of things and I can speak from experience. For example, knowing the smell of freshly squeezed urine or the pungent taint of Mary J in the air and pinpointing exactly who is toking it up. Or seeing a "manly" man and knowing that he actually plays for the other team and really wants to step up to the plate with my bat (this gift/burden of detection is also known as "gaydar").

And I know a tranny when I see one (which infers A LOT of things about me!).

Oddly or approriately enough, a lot of them can be seen scurrying about the Meatpacking District late at night soliciting... well, you know... meat. I happened to be at a bar in this area of Manny-Hatty watching the Knicks/Grizzle My Dizzle triple OT game last night and as I watched, I thought "someone on that Grizzlies team is looking kind of gay and I'm not talking Rudy."

Anyone see Mike Miller and his headband? The dude looks like that girl in grade school that everyone hated because she told on everyone. That's right, I'm talking to you Kimberly Hanser, you sourpuss!!! Anyway, look at the picture. Am I right or am I right? Miller looks like a WNBAer there. Actually, a WNBAer getting raped. And it's hurting. Bad.

In any case, I wonder why he lost his country-boy hick look? It's certainly safer to look like Gomer Pyle than... well, that. I mean, if he didn't walk down that dirt road before, hearing "Dueling Banjos," he's definitely going to hear it now! All I can say is - Mike, squeal like a pig and get it over with as fast as you can.

Okay, one aspect of the tranny down. Next!

You can usually spot a tranny (and forgive me if I'm being politically incorrect by using the term, tranny, but "dude with a shlong doing a Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs wearing a restrictive banana hammock" was just too long to write) by looking at their head. The one on top... although if you see the one of the bottom, that's an obvious dead giveaway. Trannies have obvious bad hair pieces, which brings me to Mike Fratello.

Mr. Czar of the Telestrator, you have money. You don't have a nice toupee. And considering you're on the hot seat, I'd invest in a good one soon before you run out of ducats after you get fired from coaching the Memphis Pros.

Either stop taking hair lessons from Donald Trump, get Stone Cold Steve Austin on your scalp and shave it (but you must then grow or goatee or be mistaken as a Hari Krishni in a suit), or deal with a hairline that wants to be more towards your back and not your front.

You're one bad suit away from looking like Craig Sager!

So, Mike and Mike, the two of you may not equal "successful season," but together you can certainly hang with any one of the successful trannies here in Manhattan.

Quick, someone get Pau Gasol healthy... this team needs testosterone STAT!