A Column of Enchantment: Madness is Here and it’s Enchanting
Posted by Joseph Nardone on March 12th, 2015Did you guys notice that the insides of our skulls, otherwise known as our craniums, are acting weird? Don’t panic. This isn’t a new disease or anything. It has been going on for a bit over a week, seems to only come along during this part of the calendar year, and it inevitably results in people who had a lighter diagnosis of this same illness when the college basketball season was young now having a full-blown case of the Madness. Nevertheless, you are sick. You have the sickies. It is like a combination of SARS and a urinary tract infection. Luckily for you, though, there are cures. Multiple fixes of this gosh slam abomination of mild-altering yucks. All you need to do is watch the basketball on the picture-box or, for you hip kids, stream games on your laptop or mobile cellular and non-cellular devices. Man, it’s the future! Doc Brown would be so proud.
Are You Ready?
However, some of you people are so far from help that there is no cure. You have spent your entire October until now just watching men hit other men because of a football or something and using any time that is not related to violence watching your relationship with your lover significantly crumble under the watchful eyes of Robert Kirkman. I mean, the new Walking Dead spin-off will certainly not help your marriage. Well, unless you and your loved one use it as a preparatory tool for the impending zombie invasion — and trust me, it is near.
Wait. Time out. Something about basketball and disease. Oh, yeah, that’s right. You’re going to die. Not like right now or anything, but pretty soon in the grand scheme of things. I don’t know how old you are because I lack the ability to see you through my laptop (or do I?). Let’s just say for the sake of round numbers you are 20. That means, unless tragedy strikes you early, you have a good 50 to 70 years left on this planet. That’s unless the FDA approves my patent pending drink called “drink,” which will allow you to live until you are 450 years old (we just started the testing on unicorns phase and I must say that they haven’t died yet). Dying is not fun. I don’t know from experience, but not a single dead person has come to me, tweeted at me or emailed me to tell me otherwise. I guess there is a small chance that being dead is so much fun that they are too busy giving Jesus H. Christ the business to be readily available for some hot takes on Twitter. Really, who knows. Not me. Certainly not you because you are not me. Only the dead people and their god(s) know. And you know what? F-them for not sharing the details.
Now that we established that death is probably the pits or really too much fun, let’s talk about fixing your strain of the Madness. There are some symptoms to look out for to know if you truly have it. Ask yourself these questions while having someone who clearly does not have the Madness there to observe.
- Do you know what a Green Bay Phoenix is?
- Did you recently come to believe that North Dakota and South Dakota (states!) were the greatest rivalry in college basketball?
- Does the mere image of Jay Wright make you feel warm in all your special areas?
- Fred Hoiberg looks a lot like Aaron Eckhart, right?
- Something clever, a little witty and only funny to me?
Fred Hoiberg looks a lot like Aaron Eckhart, right?
If you answered yes to any of those questions then you are as sick as that lady who got knocked up by the (I guess) alien in the wanker-area guy in Prometheus. Also, kill the unbiased observer. We leave no witnesses! There are other questions for you to answer as well, but you are too sick to even know them or answer them truthfully. Plus, um, I lack creative abilities after Taco Tuesday. My main focus right now is trying to get you the help you need before you decide to take the bridge and keeping my belly from imploding. Think of our journey together so far like the King and I — except the King is my really uneasy bell and the I (you) are just a bunch of folks who are getting really terrible, unnecessary and stupid advice — one piss-poor analogy at a time.
What else? Well, outside of typing what I am thinking in my head. What is that anyway? Is that typing-outloud or just bad writing? Who cares. Chances are if you are reading this that means you have read other enchanting columns and, well, you are already hooked to this thing and haven’t even noticed the heroin I lace them with to keep you coming back for more. Bluh. Bluh. Bluh.
Okay. Basketball.
You might have work this week and the next, which will hurt the watching of the basketball. I don’t. I was a causality of cutbacks at my job in January. That is not a joke. I am serious. So if you know anyone in need of the world’s foremost vagabond salesmen or a relatively below-average blogger, tell them to get at me! PLEASE! I’m dying here. FEED MY KIDS. Oh yeah, basketball. Such a thing like being a productive member of society may prevent you from being able to partake in some daytime hoops. That is stupid. Your job is probably stupid too. I don’t care what it is you do for living. Whether you’re a doctor, engineer, a tamer of lobsters or Ludwig Von Borga, just quit your job. Problem one solved. You don’t need the money that comes from your job for the NCAA Tournament anyway. I promise. The cable man won’t shut off your picture-box for a minute. If the risk/reward of quitting your job is being able to watch the Big Dance in full and likely be homeless after, it is pretty much a no-brainer. Plus, I imagine being homeless is like taking hipster to the next level. Now your ironic dirty mustache is less ironic because you don’t have access to running water and instead use any funding the people of your good neighborhood give you to buy booze and save up enough money to start that brothel you always dreamed of having. #gofundmybrothel
Next problem is probably any relationships you have with people. Here you have a few more options than you did as far as working went. You can either kill them with a lego (only a lego will do) or chain them to a chair in your basement. Only do the latter option if you really, really like these people. There is a high probability they will tell the po-po if you do it. If you do choose it and that person(s) does decide to call the police then they come to your house to take you to the pokey, the fix is not easy. I will give you the proper response to such a scenario so you know what to do:
Police Person: Yo, sicko. I am here to take you to the pokey!
You: You’re the pokey.
Police Person: …
Victory!
Well, that about does it. The Madness is here and you’re not going to get cured. You’re just going to kill your family and friends, probably go to jail and die a lonely death. Don’t thank me now, though. Thank me when you see me up at those pearly gates when I slip the guy watching the door a Keifer Sykes highlight reel to get us in. Eh, I digress. Basketball — kind of.
Joseph has covered college basketball both (barely) professionally and otherwise for over five years. A Column of Enchantment for Rush The Court on Thursdays and other basketball stuff for The Student Section on other days.
