Hello dear reader(s)!
Do you all like college basketball?
If I wanted to watch slave labor I would go to an Apple factory in China. I’d go to a GAP factory in Bangladesh. I’d go visit a prison. I’d go back in time to the 1850’s. I’d go to a corporate farm in central California.
But they get scholarships!!
So? Look how much money the schools, the conferences, and everybody makes off of these athletes and their names. What happens when one gets hurt? Bye-bye!
But that isn’t the worst part. The worst part is all the hype surrounding it. It is worse than CNN saying a debate that is 2 days away is Breaking News. It is worse than the all the build up to the Star Wars prequels that never should have been made. It is worse than all of the awards show talk. It is worse than the two week period before the big football game. It is worse than Dick Cheney’s claim that US troops would be greeted as liberators in Iraq. It is worse than the stuff Public Enemy doesn’t want you to believe.
But this post isn’t about college basketball and the money making machine that takes advantage of poor athletes who know that the only way to become a professional athlete in that sport is through a farm system that gives people other than them large, large checks for their work. No, this post is about March in general.
You see, March makes me angry.
Well, there is Saint Patrick’s Day. I HATE Saint Patrick’s Day!
Well, I may have some Irish in my ancestry. As far back as I can trace my ancestry, it looks like it could be up to 1/4. But do you know what I would never do? Claim that this makes me Irish. Yet, on Saint Patrick’s Day, everyone who once knew someone who had heard of Ireland claims to be Irish and speaks in a terrible fake Irish accent. Then they drink and drink and drink and drive. Sometimes they use it as an excuse to get in large, drunken brawls. It perpetuates a terrible stereotype about Irish people that makes me so angry I want to punch anyone who does it in the face once I finish this beer! (Yes, I stole that joke, I would credit it, but I have no idea where that originated.)
There is also the weather. In like a lion, out like a lamb. With the super El Niño, this lion is more like an entire pack of lions on steroids, with lasers strapped to their heads. We got hammered with rain last night, much heavier than typical for this area, and the wind has been insane. There are trees and limbs down all over, power outages, my internet has been up and down, and even some fires and smashed houses in some suburbs around from trees falling into them. But that is just here, we could be in parts of Arkansas, Louisiana, and Mississippi where they are largely under water.
Then there is the fact that it is getting lighter in the morning. My cats have been waking me up for their food about two hours before they should get it. I have been sticking to the schedule and trying to sleep but it is mostly just yelling at them to leave me alone for two hours. Stupid light and sun.
And because of this extra light, there are flowers blooming. Oh great, colors. Oh look, all these flowers that look almost like plants smiling at me. What the hell, flowers? Why are you so happy? You’re just going to be burnt in the summer soon. What is this, OZ? Who are you to tell me how to live???
And because of this extra light, and flowers, and longer days, it means more people are out. Great. Just what I need. People walking around, being friendly, in good moods, smiling and just generally enjoying being alive? What the fuck? Am I right?
What kind of name is March anyway? It is a command. If I wanted to March, I would have joined the military. You March!
And PI Day. Oh, that’s creative. Look a day is 3/14 and PI is 3.14 and an infinite number of numbers after the 4. So let’s just drop all that and call it Pi Day! By that logic, June 9th is mutual oral sex day! Actually, that’s not a bad idea.
And then there is the time change. I have to spring forward and lose yet another hour of sleep. Are you kidding me? Who wants to lose sleep? Hey, you know how it is already kinda light at night so you are going to sleep later and then your cats wake you up early? We’re gonna make that late hour even lighter. Good times. Fucking time thieves.
And of course, there is the worst thing of all about March. Spring. Fucking Spring. With its longer days, and sunshine, and green grass, and popping flowers, and happiness., and cute baby animals, and a general feeling of contentment among people that they have made it through a rough winter and now they are alive and should celebrate life. Fuck. That. Bah! Oh, look, bunnies and kittens and smiles. Gross.
And the number of days. 31? What the fuck? Is your month Baskin Robbins? You are a month, not an ice cream shop. Act like it! 31 days. Why couldn’t you have just picked a nice even number like 30? Fucking March. You think you’re so cool. But you aren’t cool. You suck. You are the worst month ever.