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LeBron James Will Never Conquer Miami Without Harold Miner

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There are many reasons not to go to Miami, LeBron. Athletes can't focus there. Athletes get spectacular and exotic STDs in Miami.  Athletes tend to do what you would do in Miami: eat badly, sleep late, and have sex that would make the Marquis de Sade throw up in an office trashcan from envy. Miami is sadly too pleasurable for its own good when it comes to the idle rich, and is where athletes develop gout of the soul. 

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(Notable exception: Shaq, who just got regular, good ol' gout. His title won with the disease of excess is a high-water mark in glutton achievement.) 

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The most compelling reason not to go to Miami, though?  You'll never, ever escape the shadow of Rony Seikaly. 

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Look at that defense meter! Just look at it! Can you hope to live up to that kind of Sega Genesis-approved dunking power and dominant defense? Do you have Harold Miner waiting in the wings? We're not even talking about the kind of time you'll have to log in the clubs to match Seikaly's profile on South Beach, or your sore lack of dazzling Mediterranean Gangster Bling. (Seikaly's ex-wife Elsa Benitez, though, is available.) 

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