LeBron James is moving to Florida, where I live. And I feel that he needs to feel right at home, so I am happily making LeBron the following promises:
Dear LeBron:
I will never burn your jersey, mainly because the only thing dumber than overpaying for your jersey would be burning said jersey.
I will never fuck your mom, nor will I hang out with Delonte West (I've heard the two events have a lot to do with each other).
Though I live in Florida, I promise I will never boo you in person because I will never attend one of your games. Don't take it personally; I've been not-attending Heat games since long before you signed with them.
I won't boo you from the comfort of my living room or a local bar either, but I do reserve the right to comment on Chris Bosh's hair. It's funky.
I won't say negative things about your hour-long ESPN special because I was busy watching Futurama Episodes I had DVR'd and totally missed it.
I promise you that Miami fans are nowhere near as crazy as Knicks fans or Cavaliers fans. In fact, Miami fans are so laid back that if you don't do well, they won't boo or write negative things, they'll just give their season tickets to their gardeners, drink mojitos, get stoned and watch the Dolphins suck. If you don't do well in South Florida, no one notices you. That's why so many of the women there purchase their breasts: so they can do well.
I promise you that Dwyane Wade will miss a shit-ton of games with injuries, forcing you to deal with double teams, a weak supporting cast and a frustrated Chris Bosh.
I promise that when you fail to get a ring next year, Shaq will write a song about you and the chorus will probably be something along the lines of, "Hey King, tell me how your nails taste!"
I will never participate in any discussion that compares you to Michael Jordan because such a conversation would be akin to comparing Drew Magary to Michael Lewis. Sure, both are talented, but only one truly gives a shit about perfecting a craft.
I will never pretend to empathize, sympathize or generally feel for Cleveland fans. Encouraging that city is bad for American culture. And if you don't believe me, watch Howard the Duck, visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and then get stuck in an elevator with Drew Carey.
I will never again watch Howard the Duck.
I promise that years from now, when you look back on your legacy, you will be incredibly happy with the entirety of your career, your friends and your life, and that includes damn near everyone who fucked your slutty, slutty mom.
Bienvenidos, King James. Enjoy the sunshine.