By Chet Tinto

Look, I know I’ve said it a million times in my columns and my podcast and book called The Internet is the Wild West 2.0, but I’ll say it again: the Internet is the Wild West 2.0. So it’s not a surprise when someone jacks my column like they’re some brazen Content Gruber Brother, but I’m not going to stand by and watch it happen. I’m going to call you out. Don’t you ever try to use my NBA Head Caliper ranking system again.

As everyone knows, I originally devised my NBA Head Caliper ranking system because all the major NBA guys on TV were screwing it up. In my column, “How Could You Screw This Up?????” I came up with an obvious way to figure out exactly how much money to give NBA players. I didn’t need fancy cameras or anything, I just did the one thing the dimbulbs on TV and in front offices weren’t doing: I watched the games and then I also printed out pictures of NBA players and used calipers to determine how much money they should be paid based on the shape of their skull.

Once you watch enough games, it becomes pretty clear that there’s a finite number of NBA player types, so you just need to look for their comparisons. These incompetent NBA GMs (especially in the Moron GM Era) would always make obvious comparisons between players — these are the chain-smoking lunkheads who thought Troy Murphy would be the next Larry Bird because they were both white forwards whereas I knew he’d be more like Wally Szerbiak because the alignment of their brow ridges clearly showed that they’d be Rich Man’s Bench Shooters and not Alpha Prime Dominators. The science was pretty clear.

There’s only so many types of NBA player from Top-Tier Superduperstars to Secondary Gamma-Level Scorer But He’s a Headcase all the way down to See You In The Adriatic League. All of these characteristics and the hundreds of other NBA player types that I wrote about in my Annual Codex of NBA Player Types and Mr. Belvedere Episode Guide become readily apparent when you start finely measuring Cuttino Mobley’s cheek bones and indexing it in a detailed card catalog system. That’s why when the Celtics offered Scalabrine $15 million despite his bench-auguring skull shape, I sprinted down the street to try to stop them, with a large, unwieldy stack of drawings and schematics that flew off the top of the pile, plastering bystanders and car windshields with papers that said “mandibular rebounding cortex.”

I’m not a stranger to getting ripped off. For years, enterprising bloggers bit my style, repurposed my Jud Buechler Corollary to their own usually stupid ends and, and took my gimmicks like writing disdainful rap parodies about the MVP race (even if I stretched the definition of MVP so I could include my masterpiece California(n), Love). But this has gone too far. It’s like that Mr. Belvedere episode where Wesley pretends that the house has been burglarized in order to get Heather in trouble, but then the house is broken into for real by a motorcycle gang and just when Wesley thinks that he’s about to get chainwhipped, the leader takes off his helmet and reveals it was Mr. Belvedere and his weekend butler cycling club The Cheesecloth Gang the whole time, here to teach him a lesson in false crime reporting.

It’s not that hard to share credit. I do it all the time when one of my buddies finds a new wrinkle to add to my rankings while we all watch sports together in our Remote Man Cave Network, so let me just list all of them now: Bick, Whit, Drunk Stu, Goats, Chad Boatshoes, Ted Mustache, Cooper, Cocaine Stu, Vaclav Ballsack, Vance, Johnny Adderall, Shrimps, Reggie Porn, Prince Dave, Randy Skiff, Chazz, Chaz, Hooter, Bumppo, and Lance Valtrex.

This isn’t a game, like when Mr. Belvedere imprisoned Wesley in a virtual reality computer world to teach him a lesson about hacking Heather’s computer diary. This is my monetized content!!! If you had done your research you would have seen that I have the most litigious philtrum in the blogosphere. I will see you in court.