So I know nothing whatsoever about college basketball. I take that back: in 1993 I predicted North Carolina over Michigan, but that was because I saw more sweatshirts in my Junior High classes with Tarheels on them than Wolverines, not because of any sports intuitions. So that being said, a few weeks ago I was asked to join some of the guys in my band in doing some March Madness brackets. The $5 wager was steep, but hey, I’m a gambling man. I filled out the brackets online mostly with a “Hey, I’ve heard of this college before” mentality. So imagine my constant surprise to find out that all throughout this thing I’ve held the top spot. It’s tenuous at best, but I just might pull it off.

I feel bad, though. It’s like the guy that you invite to poker that doesn’t know how to play. You spend half the time explaining the rules and the other half inexplicably losing almost every hand to him because he plays erratically. You just can’t play a guy like that. Which reminds me of playing catch with a toddler. They’re so little that they seemingly can’t hurt you or anything, but they’re so dang random that they’ll inevitably end up throwing the ball at your crotch, and FAST, like in America’s Funniest Home Videos. Yep, I’m like that.

Listening to "Youth Overrided" from the album Antenna by Cave In