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MLSE should expect a hefty cleaning bill from whatever Denver hotel the Raptors stayed in, because the entire team shat their beds in grotesque fashion last night.
Show of hands — how many of you were masochistic enough to stick around to watch the 132-93 massacre right to the end? To those with raised hands, I ask: What the hell is wrong with you? Don't you like yourself?
The Raptors certainly can't like themselves very much right now. Jose Calderon, in particular, should be plagued with self-doubt after the way he was destroyed by Chauncey Billups last night. More and more, the Ford vs. Calderon debate is seeming ridiculous — neither one of them is apparently all that great (although Ford did lead the Pacers to a shocking upset of the Lakers last night).
It's hard to single out one thing that stood out about the Raptors' embarrassing performance — but if you force me to, I'll say that I was particularly sickened by their non-existent perimeter defense. The Nuggets let fly from outside with little recognition of the shot clock and they capitalized on their open looks all night — making 13 out of 24 three-pointers and shooting 60 percent from the floor overall.
Denver dominated in the paint as well, of course, outscoring Toronto 50-28 in that area. Frankly, it looked like the Raptors were a D-League team. I'm beginning to think that's where a third of this roster belongs. It's pretty obvious that Sam Mitchell's days are numbered in Toronto, but we have to point the finger at Bryan Colangelo as well for inflicting some of these pathetic ass-clowns on us. The Raptors bench is a traveshamockery and the only reserves that precede Colangelo are Joey Graham and Roko Ukic — coincidentally the only bench players that didn't stink up the joint last night.
I have nothing else to say about this abomination. I can't expect that the upcoming games against Utah, Portland and Cleveland are going to go much better. I'm liveblogging the Sunday's game against the Blazers for The Score and I'm starting to fear that it's going to be like liveblogging a public execution. I'm not even joking — Greg Oden might literally behead Andrea Bargnani. Ugh... time to add a "special ingredient" to my morning coffee. 
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