It’s That Time Of Year Again.


“Well, shit, Mark, what are we going to call it?”

“Hell if I know, Pete; you’re the Idea Man.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“If you knew I was going to say that, why the hell did you ask me the question in the first damn place?”

“Because I’m fresh out of ideas, that’s why, which is no way an Idea Man ought to be.  Was a time when they would come to me and I’d spit’em out lickety split.   Remember ‘Have it your way?'”

“Yep.  That was a good’un.”

“Goddamn right it was a good one.  Brilliant when you stop and think about it.  ‘Cause it’s the same greasy bun and slab of meat , just gotta pretend like the condiments a big deal is all, and–”

“Yeah.  I said it was a good’un, not that I wanted to hear the whole damn story again.”

“Well, it’s a damn good story, Mark, and a damn good story ain’t never get old.”

“Maybe it ain’t so good as you think it is, Pete?”

“Hey.  Remember: ‘It takes a lick’n and keeps on tick’n?'”

“How could I forget?”

“That was some golden shit, Mark.  Catchy, you know, how it rhymed and all, every empty head in America making it their own, saying that about their cars and their kids; hell,  they even named one of them there pornographic films after that one.  ‘She takes a lick’n, and keeps on tick’n.'”

“Heard that was a pretty good flick; heard is all; never watch the stuff myself.”

“Or what about the time they asked me to rename the city, and I said, ‘What city?  You mean The Big Apple?’  And they said, ‘Perfect,’ and handed me a check for a hundred grand.”

“That was you?”

“Goddamn right that was me, and I did the same for The Windy City and The Twin Cities and The City of Brotherly Love, although the last one there was a bit of a stretch.”

“I had no idea.”

“Of course you had no idea; I’m the Idea Man, or at least I was.  Until today.  Shit.  I guess my mind ain’t what it used to be?”

“Maybe you got that … what’ya call it?”


“Yeah, dementia.”

“That was mine, too.”

“So you do got dementia.”

“No I don’t have dementia, I’m saying I coined the name is all, and Viagra, and Propecia, and Allegra.  All in the same day!”

“What about delusional, did you coin that’un too?”

“Remember ‘Hope and Change?’  Or ‘Where’s the beef?’  Or how about: ‘Is that your final answer?’  Mine, mine, mine!  So why is this one so damn hard?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Mine too!”

“Oh, brother.”

“And ‘Put a Little South in Your Mouth,‘ which they also made into a pornographic film, the sick bastards.”

“I don’t remember that one.”

“The saying, or the film?”

“Uhm, the saying, of course.”

“Shit, Mark, what if the ole attic is empty?  Mine.  Or the well has run dry?  Mine also.”

“Maybe you’re looking at this the wrong way, Pete?  Maybe, ’cause the event is happening in springtime and all, you go with something like March Mayhem, or April Anarchy?”

“Tell me what you think about this: ‘The Commotion on the Court?’  Or this: ‘The Basketball Brouhaha?'”

“Or how about March Madness?  That has a nice ring to it, and when they get down to sixteen teams, we call it The Sweet Sixteen?  Eight teams would be The Elite Eight?  And so on until we reach The Final Four?”

“Anybody ever call you the Idea Man, Mark?”

“Not that I’m aware of, Pete.”

“My point exactly.  Now think here.  Time’s a-wasting!  Hey!  I got it!  How about we go with March Madness?”


“Yeah really!  And when they get down to sixteen teams, we call it The Sweet Sixteen?”

“Tell me why we’re friends again?”

“Eight teams we’ll call The Elite Eight.  Oh, man, I’m on a roll here, Mark.  This is some golden shit.”

“This is some shit, all right.”

“Any idea what I’m thinking of for the final four.”

“Some idea, sure.”

“I’m back, baby.  Mine.  Back in the saddle again!  Mine also.”


(“Hashtags?  Yeah.  I came up with that shit, you bet!”)