What's worse? Is it an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile, a suitcase dirty bomb, or Rajon Rondo?
Your multiple-choice answer will determine your road to the future.
The problem for the NBA and the Celtics is that Rondo is all three options.
The NBA must decide, but despite the protests (too much, methinks) of the Celtics that their mercurial star is not that sort of guy, he seems to be inevitably that sort of guy. He is a dwarf star ready to go Super Nova on us.
In a year in which the league has played a strike-shortened season and crammed their weeks into games, the drive for profit has sent key players onto the injured list faster than you can say playoffs have arrived.
The problem for the NBA is that the ratings will take a swan dive if Rondo is suspended and the Celtics are tossed out of the playoffs in the first round.
The league suspended Metta World Peace, and the Metta World War poster boy may have bumped his last referee of the year.
Perhaps the plea of not guilty would carry more weight than a basketball if Rondo had not already smacked a referee with his suitcase bomb before the All-Star break.
That little explosion of throwing a ball into the referee's dinner belt cost him a two game suspension.
There will be no fail-safe for nuclear meltdowns as long as Rondo is playing Dr. Strangelove out on the court.
"We'll Meet Again" (a World War II standard song) was the musical accompaniment to the end of the world in Stanley Kubrick's apocalyptic movie.
Start humming it, Celtics fans. Rondo is riding the bomb as it drops onto the playoff hopes. You better learn how to stop worrying and love that Celtics bomb.
