WHEN BLACK FRIDAY COMES…
By Hampton Stevens

On Black Friday, Page 2 suggests not leaving the house. This might come as a shock, but we suggest not going out on the busiest shopping day of the year. Instead, avoid the mobs of Christmas-crazed moms rampaging through shopping malls like drunk English soccer fans after a bad loss. Stay home, shop online and watch ESPN. You'll be so glad you did. Online or off, though, while spending your last dime on gifts for family, friends, pets, co-workers and the mailman, don't forget all the sports stars in your life. Page 2 knows what everyone has on their holiday wishlist.

First, the folks who are easy to buy for. Like Jimmy Clausen, who needs boxing lessons. Or Jimmie Johnson, who needs a bigger trophy case. Bears' wideout Devin Hester clearly could use a new belt. Boise State just wants Okalahoma to beat Okalahoma State, which doesn't seem like so much to ask. Lions' rookie Matthew Stafford could use a sling. Not for the shoulder he hurt against the Browns, but for the colossal cojones it took to pull off that win.

LeBron James has been hinting around for a new wheelbarrow. With Shaq coming back from injury, and another 300 pounds of deadweight to carry, James is going to need it. Tarheel coach Roy Williams has just one holiday wish -- anyone who can shoot from outside.

Theo Epstein is very easy to shop for. He wants Roy Halladay. The New York Mets are even easier. They could use a catcher, middle-reliever, leftfielder with power (ala' Matt Holliday or Jason Bay) and new second-baseman if Luis Castillo gets traded. The New York Yankees, of course, don't really "need" anything. But they still have the same wishlist that they always do -- every other team's best players.

Then, the gift-giving gets a little trickier. With Ben Roethlisberger concussed and Charlie Batch out for six weeks, what can you get the Steelers' fan in your life -- a Dennis Dixon jersey? The Buffalo Bills want a head coach, but Bill Cowher, Mike Holmgren, Jon Gruden and (probably) Mike Shanahan won't fit. Allen Iverson wants a phone call from a contender --- and a body that can still backup his ego.

Jeff Fisher is asking Santa for a time-machine so he can start Vince Young three weeks ago. Tim Tebow, Toby Gerhart, Colt McCoy, Mark Ingram and C.J. Spiller all want a Heisman, but Santa only has one in his bag. Texas A&M coach Mike Sherman, like Ralphie and his Air Rifle, wants an upset over Texas to save his job. He promises not to put an eye out.

Jerry Jones is asking for a hard-to-find gift. He wants the a welterweight bout between Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather held Cowboys Stadium -- with Dave Campo and Terence Newman as an undercard. Oh, and the Cowboys could use an offense.

Finally, the poor New Jersey Nets just want one, measly NBA win. One. We only hope some team out there takes pity and gives them a gift.

PAGE 2's NASCAR POSTSEASON AWARDS

Yeah, right. It's not over. Jimmie Johnson needs to finish 25th or better in Miami to win his fourth straight Sprint Cup title. Child, please. It's so over. Johnson could finish 25th driving blindfolded and steering with his feet. All that's left of NASCAR's 2009 season is handing out the postseason awards. Page 2 has the trophies that maters.

BEST NASCAR WIFE/GIRLFRIEND: Eva Busch, Kurt's wife, made a strong move this year. Jeff Gordon's wife and Euro-MILF, Ingrid Vandebosch, almost regained the title she lost to Ashley Judd last season. January Jones was at the Kansas Cup race and supposedly clicked with Tony Stewart. Our winner, though, is Lynne "Kush" Kushnirenko. Sure, her husband AJ Allmendinger had a rough year. No wins on the track and a DUI off it. He still goes home to a former Miss Molson and Playboy Cyber Girl famous for how well she handles a baton. What? She's a two-time national baton-twirling champion of Canada. Get your minds out of the gutter.

WORST NASCAR WIFE /GIRLFRIEND: Ashley Judd, because she left the sport. Just because her husband Dario Franchitti went back to IndyCar, that was no reason for her to go with him.

BEST PRODUCT ENDORSEMENT: No question. Tony Stewart, hawking Whoppers.

WORST PRODUCT ENDORSEMENT: One word: ESTRADA!

FUNNIEST CAR SPONSOR: For three races, Martin Truex was sponsored by GPS-maker Tom-Tom, prompting millions of fans across America to make the same, obvious, but still funny joke. Namely, that Truex had a generic female voice in the car telling him to "Turn left in 500 feet…Turn left in 500 feet…Turn left in 500 feet…" for three consecutive hours.

UN-FUNNIEST CAR SPONSOR: When you watch the Ford 300 on ESPN this weekend, root for the cars backed by Citi Financial and BB&T. Both got federal money in the financial bailouts, so, technically, both are sponsored by the taxpayers. Presumably, we get champagne if one wins.

BEST OLD GUY: Mark Martin, duh. He's old enough to join the AARP but was the only driver to even challenge Johnson in the Chase. Sure, it's cool that Tom Watson can hit a fairway at age 59. Martin, only nine years younger, hits 200 mph every week in a pack of 43 bumping and banging racecars.

WORST OLD GUY: Denny Hamlin. Yes, he's only 29. He still whines like a cranky grandpa.

BEST FACIAL HAIR: Sam Hornish clearly spends hours a day on sideburn maintenance. Martin Truex is obsessed with Elvis and looks it. But we'll go with Dale Earnhardt Junior -- mostly because of his supernatural ability to always have a roguish, three-day stubble. Just another reason that Junior is NASCAR's biggest star. He's like Elvis. Except, you know, without all the success.

WORST FACIAL HAIR: Paul Menard and his ever-changing topiary of goatees, soul patches and Martin van Buren-esque muttonchops. If only he drove as well as he groomed.

BEST DRIVER NAME: Scott Speed. He didn't do much in his No. 84 Red Bull. Whatever. His name is Scott Speed. If he wasn't a driver, he could have his own cartoon.

WORST DRIVER NAME: Max Papis. He's a likable man and solid driver. Nevertheless, "Max Papis" sounds a retired tailor in New Jersey.

BEST FINISH: Leading on the last lap of the Aaron’s 499 at Talladega, Carl Edwards is hit, spins, flips upside-down, bounces off the Turn Four catch-fence and rolls to a stop, his car a spectacular, smoking mess. Edwards then crawls from the wreck and jogs Ricky Bobby-style across the finish line for the greatest 24th-place in the history of motorsports. Oh yeah, Brad Keselowski won the race.

WORST FINISH: Anything involving the words "fuel mileage."

BEST RACE NAME: Darlington called their race the Southern 500 -- a simple, classic title that harkens to the sport's cherished roots.

WORST RACE NAME: The Watkins Glen race, sponsored by a snack-food maker, was called the "Heluva Good! Sour Cream Dips at The Glen." That's barely English.

BEST PAINT JOB: The No. 26 Crown Royal Ford. Granted, the jeweled crown on a velvet pillow doesn't inspire fear. But with Jack Daniel's and Jim Beam dropping sponsorships in 2010, Crown is the only whiskey sponsor left in a sport founded by moonshiners.

WORST PAINT JOB: Juan Pablo Montoya not only helped Bob Griese learn the difference between Mexico and Columbia, he shocked NASCAR by making the Chase. He also shocked retinas with this abomination on the No. 42 Dodge, run at Texas for the Hispanic Heritage Month "Dream in Color" campaign. Who says green, red, orange, black and yellow clash? Pretty much everyone with eyes.

BEST OFF-TRACK SOAP OPERA: In May, after what NASCAR alleged was a positive test for methamphetamine, driver Jeremy Mayfield was indefinitely suspended. Mayfield hired lawyers and got a judge to unsuspend him. Two weeks later, though, he allegedly failed a second drug test and was un-unsuspended. A few weeks after that, Mayfield's stepmother Lisa, who had testified she saw the driver use meth dozens of times, was herself arrested for misdemeanor assault and trespassing. She was on… Wait for it… Jeremy Mayfield’s property. You can't get that kind of gritty, real-life drama anywhere else. Besides jerry Springer.

WORST OFF-TRACK SOAP OPERA: It is possible, that, at some point in the distant future, taking into account her IndyCar schedule, her various contractual obligations and certain astrological signs, that Danica Patrick could conceivably drive a stock car in some form of NASCAR-sanctioned event. ...Oh.

BEST VICTORY CELEBRATION: Here's video of Dale Junior doing his 2009 post-victory burnout! Well, computer-generated video from EA Sports NASCAR 09, anyway. Junior didn't get a burnout in real life.

WORST VICTORY CELEBRATION: After winning in Nashville, Kyle Busch was presented with the traditional trophy; a custom-made, hand-painted Gibson Les Paul -- which he promptly destroyed, Pete Townsend-style, on live TV.

"There ought to be a law with no bail

Smash a guitar and you go to jail

With no chance for early parole

You don't get out 'til you get some soul"

THE CANNABIS COMMANDMENTS

Despite nearly a century of prohibition, millions of Americans think marijuana is a fun, relatively harmless part of daily life. Today, in fact, knowing your way around the world of weed is just one more aspect of being a sophisticated adult -- like knowing the right wine to serve with dinner. Always here to help our readers live the high life, pun intended, Playboy.com created the definitive list of marijuana morals. These are the Ten Commandments of Cannabis. The Doobie Decalogue; the ultimate creed for weed.

I. THOU SHALT SHARE THY BUD
The most basic principle of potdom. Call it good karma, a mitzvah, casting bread on the waters. Just call it "not being an asshole." Share thy stash with others, that others might share with you.

II. WHOSOEVER LOADETH, LIGHETH
Self-explanatory and maybe the oldest custom in weed world. Whoever loads the bowl, or busts out the fatty, is offered the honor of first toke.

III. THOU SHALT NOT MAKETH AN IDOL OF THY HERBS
You smoke weed. Cool. Now shut up about it. Enjoying marijuana does not mean you should stop bathing, grow dreadlocks, plaster every inch of your walls with cannabis-themed posters and name your dog Indica. It certainly does not mean you should advertise your Buddha love by covering your car with pro-pot bumper stickers. There is a time to let your freak flag fly, fellas. Driving, when you are most vulnerable to law enforcement, is not it.

IV. THOU SHALT NOT DOUBLE-DIP, NOR SHALT THOU BOGART THY NEIGHBOR'S JOINT, NOR PIPE, NOR ANY HERB THAT IS THY NEIGHBOR'S
Also self-explanatory. Hit it and quit it.

V. REMEMBER THY PARAPHERNALIA AND KEEP IT TIDY
You wouldn't drink Perrier-Jouët Cuvée Belle Epoque from a dirty coffee cup? Don't smoke hydroponic White Widow from a resin-caked bong. Oh, and don't smoke resin. Please. When you clean, you will be tempted to save those shiny black blobs, let them dry and make a poor-man's hash to use only in "emergencies." Resist this urge. Resin is the pothead's version of methadone. You don't get off, exactly. You just kill the cravings for a while. Worse, smoking resin will make you feel pathetic as you are, after all, smoking dirt. Seriously. Feel better about yourself by always throwing that stuff in the trash.

VI. THOU SHALT LIGHT FROM THE SIDE
In a room full of people, you are handed a fresh-packed, unlit bowl. The rudest thing you can do, other than arrest everyone in sight, is light from the top. The best hits from any bowl are the first, "green hits." Torching the bowl's whole surface is like being offered one hors d'œuvre and taking the whole tray. Lighting from the side, igniting as little surface as possible, you will ensure green hits for someone besides yourself.

VII. THOU SHALT FILTER THY SMOKE
Obviously, if you are trying to get high at a concert, you won't use a hookah. If you care about your health, though, use bongs or bubblers instead of pipes and joints whenever you can manage. Water, even a little, filters out loads of nasty stuff, some of which would otherwise end up in you. Consider a vaporizer, too. They cost a lot and can be a pain to use, but are infinitely easier on the lungs. Vaporizers also have the advantage of getting users deeply, ridiculously, sublimely stoned.

VIII. THOU SHALT DEAL WITH FRIENDS
Basically, don't buy drugs from people you don't like. If a dealer fills his home with guns, crystal meth, gay Nazi porn or anything else that makes you uncomfortable, get your ganja elsewhere. Just not the ghetto. Never, ever go to a ghetto to buy drugs off the street. If you can't score from a reputable dealer in a familiar neighborhood, you don't need to be smoking.

IX. THOU SHALT NOT SQUEAL
Pot is against the law, folks. If you use it, you may be arrested. If you do, the police will probably offer leniency in exchange for help busting your dealer. If you follow the Eighth Commandment, that means betraying on a friend. Assuming your bust is for simple possession and a first offense, your choice will likely come down to a year's probation and a few thousand dollars in legal fees; or ratting out a buddy. Choose the former, please, lest your soul turn black.

X. THOU SHALT NOT PINCH FROM THY ROOMMATE'S STASH
Much. You know, unless he's really being a jerk.