March Madness

People often speak about "March Madness" as simply the temporary focus of the national attention on the 68 college teams competing this month in the NCAA's basketball tournament.  (It used to be 64, but the NCAA keeps adding to the team numbers, recognizing that there's more money to be made out there if they can add games without anybody paying much attention.  And this by the way, doesn't even count the 'loser's tournament' for those who weren't for some reason invited to the big dance.  By this of course, I mean the 32 colleges of the NCAA 'invited' to the NIT [National Invitation Tournament] as a consolation.)  March however seems to have been a month long infected with both fervor and madness before anyone considered 'Sweet Sixteen' as a phrase that could used in a discussion of sports. 

The Ides of March, for example occur on the 15th, and is famous as the day in which Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 BC.  Now normally the Ides of any month (usually the 13th - 15th) were marked by the Romans through religious celebrations which concluded with a sacrifice.  In this particular case however, the sacrifice turned out to be their dictator (a term which meant something far different in those days).  The Religious implications of Politics are often rather difficult subjects to understand however; and while normally the elimination of a dictator would likewise be considered a reason for celebration, history remains confused over the elimination of this particular one.  Perhaps it's because so many of us were forced to translate what were considered Caesar's heroic efforts in the "Gallic Wars" during our classical education, and perhaps it's because of Rex Harrison's sympathetic depiction of him during the 1963 classic "Cleopatra".  It could also have something to do with the fact that many of those who replaced Caesar (even keeping his name) were promoted from Roman Dictator (only a nominal king) to Emperor (more in keeping with our current definition of the term), and in many cases were far worse than the original.  It may even be a confused reverance and prejudice against the offences committed by later iterations of the title, 'Kaiser' and 'Czar'.  Then again, there may just be those who simply have a grudge against eating the salad that retains the name.

Two days later on the 17th, many around the world celebrate the feast day of the Patron Saint of Ireland, St. Patrick (except of course for those of us celebrating my granddaughter Maggie's birthday).  This too (as those of you who read my St. Patrick's Day post would have noted) is an event rife with confusion.  Beginning with the concept of a former English slave becoming the patron saint of the nation that imprisoned him, proceeding through a number of falsehoods surrounding his use of the shamrock and the departure of Ireland's snakes, and finishing up with the concept of a religious holiday designed to be celebrated with prayer that's become the secular equivalent of a donnybrook.   There's certainly enough befuddlement in its history therefore to cheefully add it, along with the Ides, as bit of March's mania.  (And at this, I have yet to add my own discomfiture over the consumption of some poor examples of the brewer's art somehow being suddenly found to have become seasonal ambrosia through the addition of emerald-colored chemical enhancement.)

For those of you who might have missed it (unable to see it even days later through the blinding snow that's stretched through the Midwest), next was the arrival of the Vernal Equinox at 7:02 EDT on the 20th; and with it the beginning of Spring.  As for me, I have little doubt that the 6-10 inches of white stuff currently falling at the "Just Blowing Smoke" headquarters in Mission, Kansas is a violation of Nature; and no doubt due to the ongoing 'mad scientist' battle between the forces of 'Global Warming' and the secret weather experiments being conducted by the government 'Military-Industrial Complex'.  ("Haliburton ... you Bastards!" he said, as he readjusted his tin foil hat .)  This of course, leaves local 'Missionaries' complaining about still being trapped in freezing temperatures that only months from now they will long for, when suffering from the soul-sucking heat of another 100 degree Summer.  This weather anomaly in a state where basketball is king creates its own form of madness, as locals who would in no case be venturing too far from their television sets suffer from a bi-polar disorder that finds them curiously discomfited at their climactic entrapment.   

(This is a well-chronicled condition that has something to do with a mental malady that arises from the manic conflict between wanting to be in an adult beverage dispensing establishment with a bunch of strangers, consuming over-priced ethanol-based concoctions vs. doing the same thing at home with ones family at much lower prices, while at the same time not gambling on potential arrest from the process involved with getting from one to the other.  There's an ongoing government study that's sucking up millions in funding for years without yet producing definitive results on the subject.)

Of course for those of us not consumed by the media-generated version of 'March Madness', all of this basketball nonsense is simply that.  Perhaps in my case, it has to do with having played hockey for most of my childhood and a good part of what society considers my adulthood (the latter term being very much subject to interpretation).  The two sports after all have competing seasons, for a dedicated 'puckster' one basketball games looks pretty much the same as another, and even the occasional distraction of current cheerleader uniform styles is not enough to entice me into watch a sporting event that has so much scoring going on that a 20-point lead at halftime is often meaningless to the result of the game.  As for filling out 'The Brackets', I only use brackets to install wall shelving and they don't require any filling out.  (Only filling in when I drill a hole in the wall improperly...)

As far as I'm concerned the madness of March can easily do without the absurdity of colleges I've never heard of playing a game that I don't much care for, all to raise exorbitant sums of money for a higher education system that squanders such funding as quickly as they get it and then looks for more in tuition rates increases that far exceed that of inflation.  I will choose instead to wait yet another week for Easter, and let the intersection of yet another religious / sectarian holiday fight its own lunatic battle between rampant consumerism and ecclesiastical fervor.  I find it far more entertaining, having once had to do so myself, to watch parents deal with the competing ideological battle for attention as my fellow Christians attempt to reconcile their children's conflicts beliefs during another co-opted pagan holiday with serious economic considerations.  I'm fascinated in their attempts to explain the spiritual significance of painted hard-boiled eggs, chocolate bunny rabbits, and jelly beans.  Having suffered through similar uncomfortable discussions for years with my own offspring, I take a twisted solace from the inevitable psychosis arising from attempts to steal the doctrinal thunder of a miracle of faith by the sugar-frenzied distractions presented by its alternative.  

I'm sorry my friends, but quite frankly I have no time in a world far too full of delusion to find a place for the college tournament madness of a sport which I'm not even sure that its inventor James Naismith would still recognize, after the abandonment of so many of his original rules.  There's far too much aberration and absurdity in my life in general and March in particular than I care to deal with, to add this made-for-TV hysteria.  If it's all the same to you, I'd like to skip ahead now to some April showers and May flowers ... thank you very much.

Basket Case

Well the DJBSS has been sent out onto the streets, each with an assigned patrol route in which to root out and hopefully prevent some of the dastardly depredations of the confectionery criminals known as RABBITS.  (We've also warned most of the local pubs that our oft-inebriated security service is once again on the loose, allowing them time to stock up on potables and hire extra bouncers.)  And while I'm sure that the lads will do themselves proud (at the bar, if not at their assignment), it does tend to leave things a bit quiet around at the Just Blowing Smoke offices.  Yeah, that's what it is alright, quiet  ..........  too quiet.

After all, this is normally a time of year when little else can be heard than the pitter-patter of little feet (or the thundering tramp of them, depending on age and disposition of the crumb crunchers involved); and that too is missing.  With all of my children grown (please note that I did not say 'grown up'), and with the fact that they and their children are at best hundreds of miles away, this is not an unexpected condition at this time of year.  It does however, leave rather a void in this holiday weekend.  

They'll be no last minute scrambling to find containers that had been put away 11 months ago and not thought of since, running out for more eggs to replace the broken or over-cooked ones, no extra dye kits required to replace the spilled ones, and no Solomon-like conflict resolutions to be made in insuring that each child receives exactly the same number of delicacies in exactly the same ratio.  (Though never employed by a government bureaucracy, this particular form of 'wealth redistribution' was in fact my specialty, as it sometimes required sugary inequities to be disposed of through ingestion, rather than allow a lack of 'fairness' in the results to stand.)  

Oh there may yet be a last minute trip to invoke a bit of capitalism and pick up some tasty treats of the chocolatier's art, but only because this is one of the few times of the year that such trips can be made without a clerk looking at piles of my purchases and at my waistline before sadly shaking her head at me and taking my money. (After all, Man does not live by bread alone ...)

Perhaps what I'm feeling is something like that of a phantom pain in a severed limb (something with which I'm familiar from a long-lost finger tip).  A longing for something that is no longer there.  In spite of the fact that I wear my Curmudgeon credentials proudly, I find that after years of grousing over the often expensive and usually messy labors involved with keeping up with the rather bizarre traditions of the secular Easter holiday, after grumbling over waking up early on a Sunday morning so that hidden containers of tasty treats could be discovered (often only after a few hints), and after agonizing over whether all of the eggs hidden were found (and not left to rot in some wayward spot, only to be discovered weeks later after they had begun to truly stink up the place); I find that there aspects to these rituals that I now miss. 

I'm sure that some of this is some from of a simple nostalgia for the days of my own and my children's youth, or perhaps more likely they're cheap, self-serving fantasies where I can finally be the parent I always wanted to be.  On the other hand, it's far more likely that they are the dark and twisted desires of one who, like a serial killer, longs for a return to revisit the delicacy depredations that I committed upon my offspring (sorry, sometimes I watch too many "Criminal Minds" reruns).  

In truth, I find these days that there is little satisfaction in eating the ears off of a chocolate bunny without listening while the pitiful cries of the offended rug rats are voiced nearby.  There is little savor in the consuming a handful of jelly bean if their ones not pilfered from someone else's possession (usually unknowingly).  There's something strangely sad in discovering that you actually don't much care for the taste of 'peeps' unless they've become somewhat stale from having been aged on nests of plastic grass for over a week.  (OMG - I'm a RABBIT!)

Whatever the history or reasoning for it however, there just seems to be something missing from the holiday experience this year, and something disquieting about an absence that I appear unable to put my finger on.  And while I'm far from having my normal aplomb shaken, I'm occasionally concerned about my current state of mind.  (Which is strange, since it's normally only other people who feel the need to be concerned about my mental state.)  It's not that I fear something as serious as a complete mental meltdown (though the prospect of one does seem rather refreshing when I think about it), it's that I think that if I'm not better able to get these feelings of Easter nostalgia under control, I may well become an Easter "basket case".

April Terror Alert: RABBITS

As March ends and April begins, the Department of Just Blowing Smoke Security (DJBSS) is once again working tirelessly to root out potential terrorists threats in this nation. (Well kind of, anyway ...)  So maybe tirelessly is too strong a word, but even I admit that they're able to do a pretty fair job now that we've finally sobered them up from their St Patrick's Day activities, performed a cursory cleaning of their headquarters while they were out celebrating, and replaced the empty jumbo-sized bags of Cheetos scattered about the attic that we keep them locked in with full ones.  

And while they have been given little in the way of credit for their labors and are often held in relatively low esteem (even by me), it must be admitted that their efforts have proven far more effective in threat protection for this nation than their 'mall cop' counterparts at airports around the country, better known as the TSA. 

It is therefore no surprise that the DJBSS has once again slipped a notification and threat assessment out from under the door of their command center (OK, attic) with barely a week for the nation to take appropriate precautions.  I am of course speaking of an imminent Easter holiday threat ... RABBITS.  And believe me when I tell you that we aren't talking about cute little fuzzy creatures who make their way from place to place with a curiously amusing (and rather charming) little hopping gate, but about an organization of criminals and thieves who will stop at almost nothing in perpetrating their heinous and addictive path of petty pilferage upon a sacred rite of spring (though now that I think about it, I suppose they could hop about as well if they wanted to).

Now for those of you who have never heard of this nefarious organization, they are a particularly disgusting bunch of evildoers whose members not only commit depredations on the innocent youth of this nation during the Easter holiday, but are evidently also doomed to pass their seemingly their cursed existence and insufferably immature behavior from one generation to the next.  I am of course speaking of the Ravenous Bunny Butchers Ingesting Tasty and Sugary treats.  In a maniacally clever bit of misdirection, they've even managed to mostly allay fears of the general public regarding their demented and disgusting onslaughts on seasonal confections most in danger by taking the very name of the cute little creature that this holiday is most closely associated with ... the Easter Bunny. 

Here at "Just Blowing Smoke" we recognize that Easter is also a important religious holiday for many of you out there.  After many years of research however, even the lexicographers at the "Stuck On Stupid Dictionary" have been unable to come up with a relationship between those serious religious aspects, a rabbit, a basket, chocolate, boiled eggs, marshmallow baby chickens, or jellybeans that they are willing to share ... even with the editorial staff.  This is probably just as well, since doing so would probably break up the rhythm of the narrative and have nothing to do with the ridiculous point attempting to be made here (much like this interruption has already done). 

While you may never have heard them called out by name, I'm sure that all of you reading this have at one time or another suffered from their dastardly and diabolical attacks on Easter baskets during your youth.  Curiously, the psychotic membership of this candy cabal of reprehensible reprobates is mostly restricted to those of adult age (and with an obvious lack of adult self-control) who have offspring.  There's even limited evidence, obtained from rather suspect government-funded studies, that indicate that these RABBITS in fact commit most if not all of their disgusting acts of domestic terrorism (if not outright child abuse) under the very roofs they live. 

These lightning swift attacks have been perpetrated on the spring treat receptacles across the nation for decades, and membership activities appear to have no respect for age, income, or ethic origin.  Recognizing the evidence of these atrocious acts of domestic dessert assault are easy, and they are often characterized by Easter Baskets suffering from the following depredations:

*  Missing ears from chocolate Rabbits (usually with the appearance of having been ... dare I say it ... bitten off).
*  Curiously insignificant numbers of malted milk eggs
*  Suspiciously empty Reece's Easter Egg packages 
*  Trifling and grossly insufficient numbers of Marshmallow "Peeps", including some that almost appear to have been 'gnawed upon'
* Smeared, and therefore all but unreadable chocolate colored fingerprints on hallways and door frames
*  Trails of jelly beans leading to available habitation exits (or in some cases, the master bedroom)

Members of RABBITS can normally be easily identified by their "shit eating grin", often made all the more apparent by the smeared ring of chocolate found around their disgusting pie holes (and sometimes the back of one wrist), visible in spite of (or because of) their misguided and miserable attempts to wipe the evidence away.By the time that they can normally be properly identified however, their awful acts of intentional ingestion have already unfortunately been committed.  

You can of course, feel free to contact the DJBSS at 1-800-RATBUTT to report the iniquitous activities of these RABBITS; and I promise you that their names and likenesses will in turn be turned over to the Department of Homeland Security for possible further prosecution (Sorry, but it's a settlement that we've reached with the government for all the abuse that we've heaped upon the TSA).  Please remind the person answering the phone to wipe the chocolate and yellow marshmallow off of the receiver before replacing it back on the cradle.  (It makes the phones so sticky!)

In order to highlight the despicable deeds of these confectionery criminals, the DJBSS is raising the terror threat (as you might have already guessed) to PINK, in honor of those cute little eyes on the real Easter Bunny.