March Madness

It's not just a crazy basketball tournament, filled with bracketology, scientific and mathematical speculation, office betting and millions of overzealous fans.  

March Madness can apply to a lot of situations.  Nonetheless, I do admit the basketball version is a heckuva lot more fun than some of the other silly-season spin-offs.

And, I really don't think madness is necessarily limited to the month of March. 

Catchy name, though.

The cartoon above has been appearing frequently on Facebook this week.  

Idaho has finally found a way to secede from the Union, and there it was all the time---on the map.

I'm wondering what brilliant mind finally took our state and laid it on its side.  

Over the years, the Gem State has endured more than its share of disdain, dissing and demeaning characterizations from the tongues of callous sophisticates, but I think this one takes the cake. 

A good bit of March Madness, indeed.

In other Madness news, when I tripped over the weed eater in the storage shed the other day, I got mad.

After realizing I hadn't broken my wrist in the surreal fall to the cement floor while holding two boxes in my hands, I got really mad.

This  March madness of mine concerns the big bruises on my wrist and the back of my hand which will, as they turn ugly yellow, involve endless explanations while handing over money at the check-out counter. 

No, I did not slam my wrist through the wall, I'll explain.  I tripped over a weed eater and used my hand to catch myself from falling really hard on the cement floor.

I also experienced some March madness this morning, thanks to an email sent by a friend.

Now, please don't go mad with laughter when I explain. 

My friend is in Los Vegas at the West Coast Conference Tournament.  She's with a herd of retired SHS teachers who spent the winter down south.

In fact, I saw two of the group on TV last night while watching the Loyola Marymount-San Francisco game.  All I've got to say is that retired SHS librarian Tony Delewese sure has grown a healthy white beard over the winter.

Anyway, back to the friend's email.   I opened the note, and all I found was a link.  I also noted that only a few other common friends were listed in the address window.

So, I put my usual vigilant cyber-skepticism aside and  ASS-u-MED and forgot the rule I used to teach my journalism students:  never ASS--ME.  

The reason I assumed that she had, indeed, sent the email was that the link had the word "psychic" in it.  

My imagination worked on:   maybe she sent it because she went to a psychic in Las Vegas who told her Gonzaga was gonna win it all in the NCAA tournament.

So, I opened the link.  Shame. Shame. 

I was mad because there was nothing about any psychic revelation; instead, it was about raspberry drops or something like that and Dr. Oz was in the ad and it came from Fox News. 

March Madness, for sure.  Damn, I said to myself.  Now everyone in my address book will get this stupid thing.  

So, this mad woman tried to find everyone in my address book  and sent them a note, instructing them NOT to open the link if they received a similar note from me.  

I have a feeling I may have spread a little March Madness through my ignorant ASSumption, and I am very sorry.

In the meantime, I'm hoping some psychic gets it right and that when all the March Madness in basketball circles comes to an end, the ZAGS are waltzing through the final dance.

In the meantime, I'll go about my business and try to avoid any more March Madness while pondering which state we're gonna be living in once Congress outlaws Idaho. 

Be Happy, not mad.  It's Friday.