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This channeling all my energy into the next Dodgers post must need a little psychic intervention

June 10, 2010 |  5:27 pm
Look! It’s Houdini!

Relax, I’m joking.

No, it’s Svengali!

Come on, I kid. Having a little fun. The McCourts haven’t scheduled their next séance for another week.

Actually, I would have filed this post much sooner, but I was trying my new Vladimir "Hot Hands" Shpunt approach. It’s very scientific.

I just held my hands over the keyboard and tried to will my story onto the screen. Nothing much happened, except my arms got tired. My blood pressure didn’t even rise.

Still, I felt it was in the best interest of hard-hitting journalism, or whatever aspect of it blogging holds, to at least give it a try. Honest, boss, otherwise this is up hours ago.

I just finished reading Bill Shaikin’s stunning story on Frank (it was her!) and Jamie (no, no, it was him!) McCourt hiring a Russian healer/physicist to channel his super energy from the Boston area to wherever the Dodgers were for the fifth time, just to make sure I hadn’t accidentally slipped into a lost episode of "Fringe."

Thursday was the Dodgers' first off-day after 16 consecutive games, and overall the timing could not have been better.

Not just for the team spared being asked if they think their owner(s) see dead people, but because the local sports world was so overwhelmed with news -- USC sanctions, Lakers-Celtics Finals, Pac-10 expansion, World Cup -- that Shaikin’s incredible but true story probably did not receive the play it deserved, at least not yet.

Word will get around, of course, and the feedback doesn’t figure to be pleasant for the McCourts. Unless they enjoy jokes at their own expense and lots of head shaking. Everyone will look like a giant bobblehead.

And don’t you just wonder what Commissioner Bud Selig thinks now? He is the guy who, after the McCourts did not get the Red Sox, pushed for their L.A. ownership despite serious concerns over their finances and qualifications.

Much of the country, no doubt, will think this is a very L.A. story, forgetting the McCourts are actually carpetbaggers from Boston. They'll think this is all new-age mysticism.

Actually, it’s as old as Czar Nicholas II.

There is the possibility, of course, that I am at great risk for questioning the legitimacy of Shpunt. If a guy can send positive energy 3,000 miles, who’s to say he can’t send negative energy?

I could be onto something. See, boss, this post could have been 10 to 15 percent better if only …

-- Steve Dilbeck