The Wizards will be handing out white towels at Verizon Center tonight Thursday and are asking fans to wave them during Game 3 against the Cavaliers.

Monday’s 30-point loss in Cleveland, a humiliation that put the Wiz down 2-0 in the best-of-seven series, really makes this gimmick seem wrongheaded.

When I heard the radio ads promoting the mass white-towel waving, my first thoughts were of a fabulous Cheap Trick single from 1978, when both the band and the local NBA franchise had their best year.

Neither Game 3 nor Game 4, also at Verizon Center, is sold out.

Turns out history’s most disappointing Washington Bullet/Wizard not named Kwame Brown is something of a historian himself: Chris Webber collects African-American artifacts.

And apparently Webber doesn’t carry the selfishness he ALWAYS displayed on the court here when he’s off it. Webber has loaned two pieces from his collection to Decatur House for an exhibition titled “The Half Had Not Been Told Me: African Americans on Lafayette Square(1795-1965).”

The items are: a letter Frederick Douglass signed on “United States Marshal’s Office” stationary and something called a carte-de-visite from Douglass from 1870.

Starting today, CWebb’s FDoug wares, and the rest of the exhibit, will be available for viewing Mondays through Saturdays, 10am to 5pm and Sundays, noon to 4pm,  through March 1, 2009.

Don’t wait long. If Webber’s artifacts are anything like their owner, they’ll become very hard to find as the end of the exhibit nears.

Much of this week’s Cheap Seats was ripped from the police blotter during the Chris Webber Era of D.C. hoops, a time when local cops handcuffed more Bullets and Wizards than they did IMF protesters.

Nobody got popped during those years more than Rod Strickland. His rap sheet as an NBA player included multiple arrests for assault, three DUI busts, an indecent exposure charge, disorderly conduct on U Street, ripping a gash in a teammate’s forehead in a hotel room brouhaha, and, best of all, an indictment for allegedly KO’ing a waitress in the parking lot of a T.G.I. Friday’s in Bowie.

So it’s a little shocking to see what Strickland is up to these days. He’s a role model.

I’m not buying it.

Chris Webber retired today as a Golden State Warrior, unable to play through another knee injury.

Webber spent four years here, and when he showed up in 1994 every Bullets fan was sure another NBA championship was coming. He would have owned this town if he’d delivered.

Instead, he left Washington without ever winning a playoff game, and, deserved or not, as reviled as any local athlete in memory.

Only a guy with Webber’s skills could have a 15-year NBA career and still be considered a bust. For all his headlines as a pro, Webber leaves the game remembered most for a college blunder. And that’s amazing.

I think I’ve been invited to Caron Butler’s birthday party. At least, I got an email saying so.

The party’s scheduled for Thursday at some nightspot called The Park at Fourteenth. I don’t think it’s going to be an intimate affair. The advertised host is Kim Kardashian. She’s known for being the daughter of an OJ attorney and for following fellow L.A. heir-head Paris Hilton into the home sex-tape biz.

Perhaps she’s a holdover from Caron’s days with the Lakers, before we got him and they got Kwame Brown.

I’ve never talked to Caron or even been within 20 rows of him. And, alas, I don’t think I’ll be meeting him at the club. At the bottom of the invitation, just below the RSVP details, there’s a disclaimer: “DRESS CODE RESTRICTIONS ARE AT MANAGEMENT’S DISCRETION AND PERTAIN NOT MERELY TO ARTICLES OF CLOTHING, BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY TO STYLE AND EXECUTION.”

I think what this means is even though I’m on the list, they would reject me on at least three grounds if I dared show up. But it’s nice to be invited, if that’s what happened.

I would like some cake.

(Photo courtesy of Scott Ableman)

Last night, I attended my first ever Washington Wizards game. Though my interest in professional basketball is slim, I’ve been meaning to check out the dance team since City Paper editor Erik Wemple outed them as fat on this blog. Lucky me: Though my seat at the game placed me off to the side of the on-court action, it afforded me a direct view of six members of the dance squad. Throughout the game, I was treated to the soothing rustling sound of their blue pom-pons, and an up-close view of their scantily-clad bodies.

The verdict: The dance team’s collective weight is the least of its problems. Though a mid-game Chipotle promotion features a video of the dance team frantically chasing down a tray of burritos, the dancers looked pretty trim to me. Their hair extensions, though, could use some work; as could their off-the-court fashion choices.

Photo via Don Chavez.

In anticipation of the first Shaq-less All-Star Game in 16 years, the New York Times started wondering yesterday who will replace the big guy once he fades completely. Dwight Howard seems to be the obvious heir apparent among dominant centers (he already nabbed Shaq’s nickname–not a bad start) and O’Neal himself named Amare Stoudemire the NBA’s “most powerful dunker.” So where does Agent Zero fit in?

Arenas, Washington’s quirky star, is the most likely to replace O’Neal as the league’s leading goofball and supplier of one-liners. It was Arenas who mused that an Olympic gold medal was more valuable than an N.B.A. title because he could always sign 10 one-year deals “and hop on every team that I think can win a championship that year.”

“And in 10 years, I might pull out three of them,” he said.

As Arenas quips go, that one is mighty tame. Still, you can’t just lick a few donuts and use a little numbing spray and expect to become the NBA’s new zinger king. You need to call Vlade Divac stupid, too.

I don’t follow sports. Case in point: The other day, I spent a full minute trying to recall the name of D.C.’s NBA basketball team, and failed.* So imagine my surprise when a Metrobus ad featuring Gilbert Arenas–NBA basketball player!–managed to threaten my long-standing disinterest in sporting activites:

I don’t give a shit about basketball. But a famous basketball player lurking behind a huge, unexplained pile of powdered doughnuts? Sign me up for whatever it is you’re advertising! Further investigation reveals that I’m one of the only people in the District (and perhaps living) not privy to Gilbert Arenas’ weird awesomeness. (Turns out he’s posing with doughnuts here because he’s known for licking them, sprinking them with baby powder, and serving them to teammates).

Bring it on, Metrobus: Where’s the absurd advertising that will finally get me into baseball/hockey/football/soccer?

* It’s “The Wizards”!

Jimmy Carter Has Always Hated Jews!

Michael Jordan Called Abe Pollin a Lying Redneck Bastard!

Those are the money shots from All About Abe, the straight-to-party-favors-bags documentary about Abe Pollin that was recently produced.

The only release the film has had so far came when DVDs were given away at a party celebrating Pollin’s 84th birthday and the 10th anniversary of the Verizon Center.

I didn’t rate an invite to the party, but got a copy from a guy who knows a guy, and was stunned that the movie hasn’t gotten any attention whatsoever, even with its very limited distribution.

What’s more, wide release or no, I felt the scenes containing the aforementioned Jew/Redneck slurs made the film’s director, Ivy Meeropol, a lock for the 2007 Unsportsman of the Year award.

I didn’t speak with Meeropol until after deadline for my current column, which bestows the annual dishonor on her.

Turns out she’s a real good sport. Rather than get defensive or snippy, Meeropol said she was “happy to hear” any feedback, even if I thought parts of the doc make Abe seem like a creep.

“I’m probably not going to hear many perspectives on this, so, I welcome anything,” she said. “I have to say, I didn’t think anybody would feel that way.”

Meeropol said that the Pollin family, who funded and produced All About Abe, wanted a feature-film documentary made, and paid the going rate to have that done. But there were indications that the Pollins never intended to release the movie to theaters or television.

“They didn’t buy insurance, which you’d have to do if you’re going to put this out,” she said. “What if Jimmy Carter comes after me and says, ‘Hey, you’re calling me an anti-Semite!’ You’d have to protect yourself. I don’t see how this could ever be released. The family just wanted to make [several thousand copies] and give them to friends and family. They wanted a legacy thing.”

In other words, Abe Pollin wanted his friends and family to see him and his pals smear Jimmy Carter.

The ex-president is portrayed in the movie, albeit with total disregard to historical accuracy, as a guy who back in the 1970s used all his powers to ruin the political career and life of FOA (Friend of Abe) and former Maryland governor Marvin Mandel.

Why? Well, according to the documentary, because Mandel is Jewish. (The Mandel/Carter scenes feel like they should be in another movie, but are creepy enough to make the DVD worth seeking out all by themselves.)

Meeropol said if she wasn’t working on a vanity project for the Pollins, she would have made some attempt to counter-balance those portions of the film that brutalize Michael Jordan, also. The most sensational of these scenes has Pollin accusing Jordan of calling him a liar and “redneck bastard.”

“I think this told Abe’s side of the story. We did not give [Jordan's] side at all,” she said with a laugh, “I felt that was a little unfair. But….”

We know: We’ll have to wait till Jordan funds his own documentary to get the rest of the story.

WTOP’s Mark Segraves with another big scoop LL wish he had:

Most of those invited to D.C.’s Luxury Suite at the Verizon Center by Fenty either contributed the maximum $2,000 to Fenty’s campaign or worked on the campaign. The rest of the tickets, with only a few exceptions, went to friends, family and the mayor’s senior staffers of the mayor….

According to the list provided by the Fenty administration, tickets went to the Fenty 2006 campaign manager and the treasurer, as well as dozens of volunteers and donors. The mayor’s brothers and parents also received tickets.

Acting Attorney General Peter Nickels received tickets to the sold-out Springsteen show. School Chancellor Michelle Rhee is going to Hannah Montana.

Other fun details: The Fenty administration handed over only a partial list. And the tickets are controlled by John Falcicchio, a top Fenty campaign aide now working in the mayor’s office.

UPDATE, 4:40 P.M.: Rhee got tix, but Paul Strauss didn’t.

Earlier this fall, this ad—essentially a giant Adrian Fenty spot—appeared in the Washington Examiner, paid for by Abe Pollin’s Washington Sports and Entertainment LP:

On Monday, Fenty declared it “Abe Pollin Day” and named F Street NW in front of the 10-year-old Verizon Center “Abe Pollin Way”:

It’d been years since I’d seen the Washington Wizards in action. But Saturday night’s victory over the Portland Trailblazers confirmed everything I’d read about them. You know, they’re better, faster, and flashier than the various versions I’d seen in the pre-9/11 era.

The famed Wizards Dance Team, on the other hand, is looking a bit raggedy. Start with the uniforms, which attempt a cross between the classic Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders’ get-ups and Jimmy Chitwood’s on-court look. And then the dancing, which isn’t nearly as sizzling as in the old days. Perhaps a bit more conditioning will do the trick, as the ‘zards’ dancers appear to be complying with the nationwide trend toward heftiness. Here’s a look at the squad in action:

Big news from today’s taping of the next generation of Eastern Motors Commercials, at least for those who don’t mind the misuse of “big” and “news”:

Out: Sean Taylor, Carlos Rogers, Brendan Haywood
In: Chief Zee

The new spots, which will feature Skins Jason Campbell, Antwaan Randle El, Santana Moss, and fresh Raven Willis McGahee lip-synching the used car chain’s fabulous jingle and mingling with a $400,000 Lamborghini and equally costly Rolls-Royce, were filmed at a desolate former Hyattsville outlet of the Easterns Automotive Group chain. (For the confused: the car company’s corporate name is Easterns; the dealerships are called Eastern.)

Easterns says Clinton Portis, who took over for LaVar Arrington as the lead lip-syncher last season, is still part of the commercial family, but was out of town and unavailable for the shoot. Anybody suggesting that Portis’s no-show was linked to his fear of being dogged about the Michael Vick situation would surely be barking up the wrong tree.

Chief Zee, the durable Skins mascot best known for the beatdown he took from Philly fans during a Monday Night Football game at Veterans Stadium, was brought in instead of another active Redskin after Easterns was told by the marketing arm of the NFL Players Association that it had could not have more than five NFL players under contract without paying a $250,000 licensing fee.

Moss and Randle El danced around while the theme song played as if it was their favorite track. But the Chief, wearing his standard red-velvet-looking ensemble topped off by a feathered headdress that’s gotta come damn close to violating hate-crime statutes, needed cue cards to get through the “Your job’s your credit!” portions of the taping.

The used car chain Eastern Motors has long had the greatest local commercials. But things haven’t turned out so well for the local superstars who have appeared in those fabulous ads to lip-synch long to the fabulous jingle: “At Eastern Motors/Your job’s your credit.”

Original spokesmodels LaVar Arrington and Laveranues Coles both left Redskins Park angry and wounded. Now Eastern’s current crop of endorsers has hit its own rough patch: Brendan Haywood left town and took the name plate off his locker immediately after the Wizards final playoff game. His days of playing for Eddie Jordan are probably done. Sean Taylor didn’t show up for the Redskins’ recent minicamp, and Joe Gibbs confessed he didn’t even know how to get in touch with the player.

And, ahem, Clinton Portis recently gave perhaps the dumbest-ass interview in Skins history. Talking to an Eastern Virginia TV station during the Redskins Beach Blitz, Portis basically said that whatever Michael Vick wants to do with his dogs—including putting them in fight-to-the-death brawls with other dogs for gambling purposes—is fine with Portis and should be fine with everybody.

Appearing in all those commercials obviously got Portis very comfortable in front of the camera. Or maybe he’s just another casualty of the Eastern Motors Curse.

Finally—proof that payoffs for political favors can be beneficial for city residents.

Last Saturday, during an auction to benefit Eaton Elementary School, a basketball in a display case signed by Washington Wizards all-star Gilbert Arenas brought in $300 for the school. The ball, which is now in the hands of an unnamed Eaton parent, was donated by At-Large Councilmember Phil Mendelson.

He and eight other councilmembers received the encased balls as a gift from Wizards owner Abe Pollin. The sports mogul delivered the token of appreciation after the council voted in favor of a bill to raise taxes on a tickets sold for Verizon Center events. The revenue from the new tax will be used to fund a planned $75 million upgrade his downtown arena.

The Eaton auctioneer deserves a pat on the back for this one: The estimated market value of the ball, autograph, and display case is about $200.