Double the fun or half empty?

The Give and Go is Ben and Skin's weekly back and forth on anything from the world of sports that they feel compelled to carry on about. The word waterfalls cascading through this cyberspace are the absurd products of Ben and Skin, and only Ben and Skin. The ideas expressed in this "column" in no way represent the thoughts of anyone else even remotely related to ESPN Dallas. In fact, ESPN Dallas has no idea what to make of any of this. So uhh, oh yeah, you can hear the aural version of this insanity every weekday from 9 a.m. to noon on 103.3 FM ESPN. Here come the Internet, sucka:

Rob Ryan, twins and warlocks

Ben: I love that the Cowboys are about to bring in one of those good ole Ryan boys to infuse the passionless Cowboys defense with some much needed teeth. The only two differences between them crazy kids and the Dukes of Hazard appears to be girth and Dodge products. Headhunter bounties will soon flow like wine -- as will the silvery lion-mulletted locks of Rob Ryan on the Cowboys sideline. I haven't been this excited since an unreliable friend of mine swore that Kerry Von Erich ripped Terry Gordy's torso off in the parking lot of the Sportatorium for no reason.

Skin: Are you not worried about Twin Syndrome? Our producer Mark "Friedo" Friedman, himself a twin, has explained this to us many times. Only one of the twins has got "the goods" and the other is an empty vessel satellite -- or what Dirk Nowitzki likes to call the "Doppel-hanger-on." We know Rex has got the magic, so what does that say about Rob? He's clearly the Harvey Grant. The Shawnette Marion. Any Gibb brother not named Barry whether they're a twin or not. Much like the ending of the David Cronenberg's gynecologist twin thriller "Dead Ringers," surely this won't end well.

Ben: Whenever Friedo babbles on about being an empty vessel I always assume he's performing some bizarre interactive theatre arts piece for a camera I can't see. I never knew he was desperately trying to tell us in his own way that his twin brother had kidnapped their shared mojo bank and was off somewhere living the good life while he was forced to rock a "Sling Blade" kind of vibe. The whole thing has this Lassie-is-trying-to-tell-me-a-kid-fell-into-the-well-and-a-tornado-is-coming type vibe. Now, I'm all sad inside. Oh, look. Something shiny. A Susan B. Anthony quarter in mint condition. I'm better now. Did you say Friedo has a twin? Aren't most male twins closet warlocks? I think I read that. Can't remember. Can you see if Friedo has booked any guests for Monday's show?

Skin: Whoa dude, you kidding me? Friedo booked Susan B. Anthony for Monday's show? Great news, but I hope it goes better than the time we had Bea Arthur on. By the way, what the hell is the Franklin Mint? It sounds like something really official and Federal Reserve-y if only the Freemasons had an 800 number and were hawking commemorative Elvis plates. Triple by the way, Elvis had a twin who died at birth -- spooky.

Time, time, time, ain't on our side

Skin: Something very painful and hurtful and painful happened to my tender Mavs tummy on MLK Day. While Russ Westbrook and D Rose were wowing the hoops world with their amazing youthful explosiveness, the Mavs backcourt of J Kidd and JET were wowing you, me and the other dudes on our 40-and-over squad. Wasn't good homie. Dallas is in the midst of an epic crash-and-burn streak -- which is what six L's in a row is by their lofty standards -- and those two guys in particular aren't giving me hope that a massive second wind is coming. I still believe in those dudes as crucial pieces, but not heavy lifters in a young guard's league.

Ben: I typically don't trust grown men who openly use the word "tummy" but I'm so depressed about the Mavs' current state of affairs that I'll have to put your tremendously suspect word choice on the backburner. We're getting old in this piece, Matlock. And so are our Mavericks. The only thing that keeps me warm at night - besides my adult diaper -- is the realization that Mark Cuban and his giant killer whale wallet will always refuse to lose. Surely he's got something magical up his sleeve, right?

Skin: If I read you right, I think you're saying these are our dads' Mavericks. Which reminds me of James Garner. Wasn't there a movie where James Garner and Clint Eastwood and a bunch of other old dudes went into space? How does some of this junk get made into movies? That is so "Cocoon." Ninety percent of all movies have big budgets and tiny premises. Hollywood is a strange game extremely wealthy people play: What's the worst idea we can come up with to spend the most money on and stick Adam Sandler in it? It's just like the Philadelphia 76ers except they got Elton Brand instead of Sandler.

Ben: No. After double lifetimes of rich sports loyalty, our dads' quit watching sports because they were confused by free agency and contracts that were fast approaching a staggering $1 million per year. My dad, who quickly soured on the modern-day athlete's me-first mantra, once told me that he wouldn't look through the curtains if I told him the Mavs were playing a game on the back patio. So according to that math, my dad's Mavericks might have been a yard crew. I can only hope they were the Lawn Wranglers. I wonder if Applejack had 3-point range. By the way, are the more famous Wilson brothers twins? If so, is Owen the empty vessel? I'd really like to see him perform Friedo's sad Minnesota Twins monologue at some point.

C.J. gets p-p-p-p-p-paid

Ben: Rangers ace C.J. Wilson recently avoided arbitration by agreeing to a one-year deal for $7 million. That's a nice raise from $3.1 in 2010. In fact, if this was 1974, Wilson could pull a Lee Majors and have the government bionic-up his limbs with that kind of funding. Then he could finally fight Bigfoot like he's always wanted to. Wait, that's weird that C.J. wants to fight Bigfoot. Or am I getting my dreams confused with his? Either way, now that Wilson is making bionic money, I think its time he invested in turning himself into a Terminator. If $6 million got you a full body bionic package in 1974, I'll bet $7 million could at least get you a bionic thumb in 2011. Discuss with yourself internally, then respond with that good science, son.

Skin: All those words you just made had me scrambling to find my totem. C.J.'s dream world is no joke and you're certainly not making anything easier. I'll say this, he might finally be able to get chicks now that he's making decent scratch. If I were him I'd buy $7 million worth of powerball joints when that thing gets up to like nine figures. There's no way you'd lose because of a little something I like to call "odds." That's some ole Warren Buffett power moves right there, fool. Or maybe that's a Jimmy Buffett move. Whatever, kid! Pow! Dynamite! Headspin!

Ben: Hard to argue with sound logic -- especially when presented with an exciting headspin punctuator. According to my cloudy college recollection, that's precisely why Congress invented break dancing in the first place. I just hope the money doesn't change Wilson like it changed Richard Pryor in the first part of "Brewster's Millions." We'll know if the next time we see him he's wearing a fur sweater vest, Mr. T necklaces and lady sunglasses at night. By the way, John Candy was a terrible catcher in that movie ... although he may have been faster than Bengie Molina.

Skin: "Brewster's Millions" is the greatest sports movie of all time. Though it's a little troubling that Antoine Walker used the plot as his financial advisor. Did you know that the fur sweater vest was actually inspired by Ed Asner? Little known non-fact, mmm hmmm, mmm hmmm. Well Ben, all I know is now everyone is rich, except you and me. And 'Toine. And if we were rich then we'd get the chance to make really great sports movies like "Over The Top" and "Gymkata." But instead we're doing this. It's enough to drive a man to volume shoot. Screw it all, I'm off to the D-League.

Listen to Ben Rogers and Jeff "Skin" Wade weekdays from 9 a.m. to noon on ESPN 103.3 FM.