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Anyone who bets on anything based on my prognostications is in for a trip to bankruptcy court. Especially bad are my predictions about pro basketball, and anarchist rioting in Portland.

My latest forays into both went bad over the weekend. First, my prediction that the store-bought Brooklyn Nets would win the world championship was trashed, as the beer-swilling Deer from the real Milwaukee showed them the door. It was a thrilling overtime Game 7, but whatever, Brooklyn is out after two rounds.

You can blame injuries for their demise. One of their Big Three, James Harden, was playing on one leg, so that he couldn't flop properly. And a second member of the big-money triumvirate, Kyrie Irving (not pronounced as it is in church), didn't play at all; he and his demons just sat there watching. Kevin Durant, who has had his share of hurt downtime in the last few years, put the team on his back and almost got it to Round 3. But he ran out of gas after a superman effort. He played all 53 minutes of the game.

My other fearless forecast was that the Portland anarchists would act up in a big way now that the police riot squad has abolished itself. But aside from an anemic show in front of the North Precinct on Friday night, nothing happened in town. The avengers of all societal wrongs did engage in hand-to-hand combat with the Proud Boys down in Oregon City on Friday afternoon, but that surprise matinee feature did not have an impact up here in Portlandia proper.

I'm okay with both of my predictions going bad. Although I bet on the Nets' victory and the riot, in my heart I didn't want either of them to happen. I should have bet with my heart, not with my head, I guess.

I did make some money gambling on pro golf, of all things. My three $1 wagers brought me back a total of $11.25. But the NBA? The anarchists? Fuhgeddabodit.