By C.J. SULLIVAN & DAVE HOLLANDER

HOLLANDER: Everything is illuminated. As the fault lines from another year on this planet furrow deeper and more definitively into your weathered visage, I write another column with you this week, like very week, still totally baffled, annoyed and, like a scientist with his lab rats, clinically fascinated by the creature you are. How did you become this infuriating mix of arrogance, ignorance and ability? How could you be so consistently misguided and not care that so many tell you so? For decades now, I have tried to (How shall I put this?) to “help” you. But today, I had my eureka moment. 

It’s all about your birthday: July 24. Look at others who share your birthday:  Barry Bonds and Karl Malone, for starters. These two men epitomize the pointless defiance that has become your raison d’etre. Barry Bonds, a man who would rather single-handedly take down all of Major League Baseball than take any personal responsibility for a single personal mistake. Karl Malone—now there’s a nice guy. First, he won’t play on the same floor as Magic Johnson because of Magic’s HIV infection, then he hits on Kobe Bryant’s wife. These are just a few examples in a voluminous catalog of the anti-social, it’s-all-about-what-I-think-and-the-rest-of-you-can-go-to-hell behavioral traits that you share with these men. 

Where you fit in this daisy chain of reproductive error is hard to say, but that makes the troubling connection no less obvious. I know it’s not your fault. You couldn’t choose when to be born. But we can’t deny irrefutable scientific evidence. Will you join me in penning a letter to the American Hospital Association, prohibiting the birth of any child—unless medically necessary to save the life of the child or the mother—on July 24th? Future generations will thank us.

SULLIVAN: Well, Dave, thank you kindly for your birthday wishes. I am proud to be born on July 24th the same day as Barry Bonds and Karl Malone—two of the best players ever in their respective sports. More importantly, both have acted like men throughout their lives and don’t give a damn what others say about them. That is why I like both of them.

You forgot that Jennifer Lopez was also born on July 24th, so I am in good company. And about Mr. Bonds, he loves his children and honors his father, Bobby, on every home run he rocks into McCovey Cove. No one has proven anything about the guy, regardless of the Vegas pool that claims he will be indicted by July 31. Bonds is what he is, and you have to deal with it as you watch your Babe Ruth memorabilia become worthless.  

As for Karl Malone, he was a true team player (see John Stockton for references) and is a great father. Take that to your immature rotisserie baseball league meetings. These are men we are talking about not the whiny sports geeks you prefer. But lets us talk about birthday wishes. I will start with the Knicks because they are the New York team in need of the most mystical help. For my birthday this year, I guarantee that the Knicks will make the playoffs and win at least 45 regular seasons games. Isiah Thomas is coaching for his dear life and Starbury will be playing for his career. This is it for these two. They are both tough street guys so one would hope that when cornered they will fight like a jailhouse ruffian. I think they will. It took this much nonsense to finally get the Knicks to wake up.

My next birthday wish is for the Mets to win their division and the Yankees theirs and let us see another Subway Series. Also let the Jets rise and the Giants stomp and also have two New York teams in the Super Bowl.

And let us see Mike Tyson have one last decent fight before he fades away. Iron Mike deserves that much. This is what I wish for my birthday this year.

HOLLANDER: Like the miserable spawn who share your date of birth, any wishes of yours can only produce opposing consequences. Let’s examine them anyway... 

Gee, that’s really a bold guarantee having the Knicks making the playoffs when only five of the eight playoff teams in the Eastern Conference finished above .500 last year. Way to go out on a limb. If the Knicks do make the playoffs, it will have more to do with Steve Francis than Starbury. You can mark my words on that.

The Giants won’t make it out of the NFC East, the toughest division in the NFL. The Jets won’t make it out of training camp with saxophonist Chuck Mangione as head coach. The closest you’ll get to an inter-city football championship will be the NYPD vs. FDNY. It’s a better game.

Subway Series? Nah. Look for the Mets in the Fall Classic but expect the Yankees to collapse like a three-story building on 62nd and Madison—with poor A-Rod buried under the rubble. 

It would be great to see another Tyson fight. I’m with you there. But our vision for it may differ. I see a big pay-per-view match from inside a maximum security prison. His opponent: your soul-mate turned-cell mate Barry Bonds who should be indicted this week for perjury and tax evasion. 

I’m amazed at how you continue to defend Bonds. No one has done more to damage the integrity of baseball. Well, Bud Selig tries. His latest brainfart (requiring pitchers selected to the all-star team to sacrifice a regular season start so they can be ready to pitch in the all-star game) goes beyond the pale. This man has reigned over the most ignominious period in baseball history yet he continues to find new ways to piss on the game.  

Bud Selig, Barry Bonds, Karl Malone, J-Lo and all those who were born under your star live among us adhering to the coda of behavioral logic brilliantly articulated by none other than Mike Tyson: “I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you love me.”

SULLIVAN: Your crudeness is just appalling. Guaranteeing that the Knicks go from 23 wins to a playoff berth with at least 45 wins is a bold prediction. Francis and Marbury will be keys to this happening.

And why are you sending Mike Tyson back to jail? Hasn’t the man suffered enough? And your glee at the possibility of Bonds being incarcerated is sickening. You are turning into the Bill O’Reilly of sports writers.

The Giants have a great football team but their main problem is a very tough schedule. It is July and already you’ve given up on the Jets. I know a small, slow, weak man like yourself never played football, but both teams have a shot at the playoffs this year. Do you surrender the Super Bowl that easily?

Bud Selig was not born on my birthday, but Amelia Earhart was. I wish you would make like her—and disappear.