Larry Brown this, and Rick Carlisle that, and Mike Dunleavy over there, and Jeff Van Gundy down the road ... yeah, yeah, yeah, fascinating.

You want fascinating, though? You want something that will drop your jaw and slacken your eyebrows and make you stop huffing glue before the staff meeting? Get this.

	Paul Allen, right, is looking high and low for a replacement for Blazers president Bob Whitsitt, left.

The Portland Trail Blazers are advertising on an employment Web site -- for the twin jobs of team and Rose Garden president.

In other words, I can interview to run the weirdest team in the NBA. So can you. So can Doug Collins and Michael Jordan and Phil Knight and Rasheed Wallace.

Maybe even Paul Allen, if you can find him.

The Web site in question is called, perfectly enough, "Teamwork," and while we are perfectly willing to consider the possibility that this is a wonderful prank performed by a crafty hacker from Lake Oswego, we've decided instead to take this at face value.

After all, this is the franchise that brought you Bob Whitsitt, an otherwise smart man whose most recognizable theory -- that chemistry is for junior high geeks -- was shown to be utter nonsense.

He got plenty of time to prove that theory, too, until the Blazers became a civic embarrassment in a town that doesn't have a lot of other civic anything. At that point, the largely ethereal Allen, who turned down a series of media requests to have his own head examined, shipped Whitsitt out with the traditional golden handshake.

And then, apparently, went trolling for a new boss on the Web.

The possibilities here are too delicious to pass up -- at least not for any self-respecting professional smart ass.

The NBA, you see, is in record front office turmoil. Coaching vacancies have cropped up like weeds in an untended lawn, and even with the peripatetic Brown and the persistently undervalued Paul Silas, there are still more vacancies than viable candidates.

Those, though, are high-profile jobs that everyone can see. The Blazers' job is far more involved, far more intricate, and apparently, far more wide-ranging than any mere list of the usual suspects can handle.

Running the Rose Garden is easy enough. Make sure the figure skaters, Cirque du Soleil, the WWE and the trade shows get their bookings in early and make sure the checks get deposited on time ... an important job, but not exactly one loaded with effervescent moments: "Ms. Johnson, it's a Mr. Stone Cold on Line Three ..."

But running the Blazers means straightening out a team whose most important public asset is Maurice Cheeks, Finder Of Lost National Anthems. They made a smart move (presumably the custodial staff, since nobody else is running the team these days) in holding Cheeks out of the coaching merry-go-round, because to lose the popular figure without thinning out the unpopular ones is not considered smart management.

Revivifying the team's image in Portland is the real task, and even though the Rose Garden was routinely filled again this year, the team's word of mouth is mostly swear words and mouths that badly need periodontal work.

So maybe the thinking here is that anyone inside the basketball big top will become too enamored of the talent on the roster, and won't have the grand sweeping vision required to polish up the biggest gem in town.

Or maybe the thinking is, "Nobody in basketball with anything more cerebrally developed than a terrarium would take this job with a closet full of haz-mat suits."

Or maybe the thinking is, "Hey, let's see what's out there just for the hell of it. After all, The Web is our friend, and we know this because the guy who owns the team helped build The Web, more or less.

Or maybe it's just somebody with a grand sense of humor.

We know this because when you click on the Teamwork Web site and find the posting for the Blazers' job, there's a link to the Blazers' Web site, and when you hit that link up pops (and isn't it great when life imitates Cedric The Entertainer) an ad for Blazer season tickets.

In other words, now that stock options aren't the incentive they used to be, you can show you're serious about running the Blazers by paying for your own seats.

And if you don't get the job, at least you'll be in the building night after night, watching the person who got the job do things you'd never have considered doing, and not doing things you find painfully obvious.

Plus, you can stand up during quiet moments and yell at the lucky slob, "Hey, you stink, and I've got the rejection letter here to prove it."

True, it doesn't make a lot of sense, but you've yelled more idiotic things at sporting events without having some official letterhead in your wallet.

So while the rest of the world is sweating out the identity of the next man to be run over by the Los Angeles Clippers, you get upstairs this minute and polish off your resume. There's a job in Oregon waiting for you ... just take a seat right there between Bonzi Wells and Zach Randolph.

Ray Ratto is a columnist with the San Francisco Chronicle and a regular contributor to ESPN.com