There's a little game around here that's a gas to play, mostly because you never quite know what response you're going to get when you play it. And that, of course, is the point.
 
It's called . . . The Karl Malone Game.
 
Here's how you play:
 
When you're in a large group of people, or small -- it requires a minimum of two players, a maximum of 19,911 -- you simply gather in the attention of each participant, preferably with his or her eyes focused directly on you, and, then, you deal. Or serve. Or launch. Or lob. Or strike. Or punt. Or hurl. Any and all of those terms are acceptable for starting the game. To do so, you simply say the words: Karl Malone.
  And, next, just sit back and see what happens.
  It's remarkable.
  It's colorful.
  It's nutty.
  It's zany.
  It's an explosive, bizarre tapestry of thought.
 
Players start firing off all kinds of opinions on the man, clanking them far and wide in diverse directions, not unlike some of his free throws in those NBA Finals against the Bulls. Typically, their reactions are as scattered and comprehensive as buckshot, an apt description given Karl's love for hunting all kinds of critters, big and small, feathered and furry.