I would have posted sooner, but I have found myself once more in mourning for a tournament bracket sheet that died before its time. It doesn't happen every year (the catastrophic early collapse always happens, just not the reason why this particular year fell apart), but every now and then I talk myself into picking Georgetown to go deep.

I don't know why I do. I hate Georgetown, and odds are, if you know people who went to Georgetown as I do, you probably hate Georgetown too. Georgetown is dick central. Of the 30 or so people I know who've attended Georgetown, I can think of 3 who aren't total dicks. That's certainly not a large enough sample from which to make a reasonable assessment, but then I'm not necessarily a fair guy.

All signs pointed to Georgetown losing early in this tournament. We all know the cliche that March Madness is dominated by great guard play. Georgetown featured the closest thing to an NBA ready big man available to any of the field of 65, but they didn't have an answer for Davidson's quickness and shooting. So now I look like even more of a moron than usual, but I can live with that.

I did want to see what happened when Roy Hibbert got to play against Brian Butch and the Insane Clone Posse that makes up the Wisconsin front line. I know the entire state of Wisconsin is made up of 5 family trees, but these guys look enough alike that I wouldn't be surprised if they came off an assembly line.

On one level, Hibbert should have demolished the Badgers, based on talent alone. However, in the Coach K era in college basketball, sometimes pure talent is more of a liability than an asset. Far more important is the ability to swallow one's pride and sense of morality and hack, slash, hold and flop in the face of superior talent. And that is Bo Ryan's mission statement as a basketball coach. So Wisconsin would likely have won, especially considering they have vastly more experience than Georgetown (Brian Butch alone has been in college for 7 seasons now, after all).

Having my bracket come apart so spectacularly almost took away most of the joy I felt (and (I'm sure shared with all right-thinking Americans) when Duke lost to West Virginia. Almost, but not quite. Seeing Duke bow out this early in a tournament is always good, but it gives me hope that there might be a chance that teams who flop and whine might be losing their advantage with the officials. That said, I am still terrified by the prospect of another San Antonio vs. Detroit matchup in the NBA Finals. But time will tell there...

In other matters, actor Richard Widmark passed away on Monday. And all I have to say about that is who knew he was still alive? I am a big fan of old movies, and I like my fair share of Westerns. But I was never a big fan of Richard Widmark. I suppose I ought to be more sensitive, now that he's dead, but I am an imperfect person.

I also feel compelled to bring this story to your attention, if you haven't seen it yet. A Mississippi man "accidentally" shot his wife while trying to use a .22 pistol to put a hole in his wall during a satellite TV installation. Prosecutors are considering charging him with manslaughter.

Not for a minute is this manslaughter. Granted it's Mississippi and not civilization, but they ought to throw the book at this guy for everything and anything under the sun. I am not a big advocate for gun control, but I do believe in moron control. Only a total jackass would use a gun in a DIY job. So I'm thinking the guy shot his wife deliberately and came up with this ridiculous story under the Sam Spade principle that a sensible story would have gotten him arrested in the first place.

In a sad news item, somebody stole and torched Shawne Merriman's $180,000 Mercedes this week. Isn't that just awful? What's the world coming to when a fine, upstanding young man like that can't trust the rest of the world to respect his possessions? To add insult to injury, the perpetrators stole his wheels (literally) and left it on milk crates before they burned it.

I have to say it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. I may have mentioned in this space a time or two that Merriman is a fraud. After having read his official bio on his official website, I think it's time we upgraded Shawne Merriman to archfraud status. I guess one can't expect full disclosure from his own website, but it might have been refreshing to see some mention of Merriman's suspension for performance enhancing drugs not too long ago amid the description of how he became one of the NFL's most dominant (excpet in playoff games) defenders.

All too often, when I mention a story, it's to focus on the negative aspects. But today, I have to praise the courageous leaders of the great state of Maine. No longer can merchants in Maine sell novelty cigarette lighters. This is win-win for the people. First, children can no longer be tempted to play with the lighters and start accidental fires. Second, youngsters will no longer be tempted to smoke to look cool.

Shame on all 49 remaining states who rely on parents and other adults to take responsibility for the objects with which their spawn come in contact. Shame on the leaders of the other 49 states for assuming that their citizens might just be mature and responsible enough to handle decisions like this on their own. And shame on the rest of the nation for being slightly more mature and responsible enough not to be led around by the hand like our neighbors, the Mainiacs.

I know you don't need me to connect you with the news, and it is slightly hypocritical for me to provide this service when I try to avoid news on TV, radio and in the newspaper because it's too damn depressing, but I have two more minor items you may not have noticed. One is sad, the other is ultracreepy.

Al Copeland, the founder of Popeye's Chicken, passed away. This is sad, unless you are a total d-bag and you don't eat fried chicken. Popeye's is much better than KFC, and our world is a little poorer today, losing the man who brought Louisiana spiced fried chicken to the rest of the nation.

And the creepy story...LG is manufacturing a cell phone that feels like human skin. I find that to be beat on a number of levels. First, at this point cell phones can do much more than they should, with the capacity to send texts, photos, videos and play MP3s.

Maybe I'm hopelessly old fashioned, but all I need my phone to do is dial. I hate that I have a cell phone, and if it weren't cheaper than a land line and on very rare occasions useful, I'd throw the damn thing in a river or off the back of some tool's head as though I were a Red Sox fan and it were a slice of pizza.

This story also gives me the heebie-jeebies because it seems to send a message that we are so starved for actual human contact that we might want a phone that feels like a person. Either that or we're trying to get in touch with our inner Dr. Frankenstein. It's not good. In fact, it's quite gross.

It's been a very long time since I've done a random thing I hate feature. Mostly I've been concentrating on the things that I hate that pertain to the Red Sox these days. And a few bits and pieces devoted to my other mortal enemies like Danny Ainge, Jay Mariotti, Ron Mexico and others. It's getting to the point where I have as many enemies as Richard Nixon. Would that I had the late former President's charm and easy going personality.

Tonight I give you the Random Thing I Hate for June 21, 2007. It's Rachel Ray.



I have always found her moderately annoying. I never watched much of 30 Minute Meals. So she can cook. Big deal. In the immortal words of Hondo Lane: "A woman ought to be a good cook. Hell, I'm a good cook myself." I never believed that she did all the work herself and got the food cooked in 30 minutes. Personally, I suspected that the crew, maybe somebody like the best boy grip or the gaffer did most of the work but she got the credit because she was more telegenic than your average garden-variety fat union guy showing a spirit-crushing amount of ass cleavage.

Also, Rachel Ray is cute. Only this and nothing more. She isn't tremendously hot. Maybe on the Food Network that gets in done, considering the Barefoot Contessa looks like she may have been a middle linebacker in her "prime." Rachel Ray is also perky as hell. I hate perky, energetic people. They make me want to ask them all if they were on dope, as though I were Mr. Hand from Fast Times. Perky people out to be outlawed. Now, if Marvin the Paranoid Android from the Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy had a cooking show, that's something I would watch.

I could deal with that when she was buried on the Food Network with that loser Molto Mario (what does a red-headed tool know about Italian food?). But now she's everywhere. On daytime TV. On primetime TV. On late night TV On Demand for the desperately lonely drunks. You can't get away from her. And those damn Dunkin' Donuts spots aren't helping much. I also hate Dunkin Donuts. There's nothing like rolling through a Dunkin' Donuts early on a Sunday morning with a hangover to try to get a bacon egg and cheese and a soda while every family in a thirty block radius drags their terribly behaved little monster-children down to get some damn munchkins and scream their heads off.

Now rumor has it that she's going to open a restaurant. That's what the world needs, another useless celebrity chef charging premium prices for slightly above-average food. One night at Mohegan Sun, I ate at the Jasper Willis Summer Shack. It was not too impressive. I've been to better street vending carts, but since every tool under the sun has heard of of Jasper Willis, he gets to charge 20 bucks for an entree that's worth about 6.50.

At least I'm not the only person out there who hates Rachel Ray. You can read all about the roots of the anti-Rachel Ray movement in this article from Boston.com. The headquarters of the anti-Rachel Ray movement can be found at this blog on LiveJournal. It's where I got that picture of her with the devil horns. I think you should join to offer moral support. I would, but I already belong to a blog site, and I don't really have the energy to join another.

For a change, I thought I would include a note of positivity amidst my customary negativity. Tonight, with my direst of mortal enemies preoccupied in travelling to the West Coast, I was able to venture into the epicenter of hostile territory. I went to Popeye's Chicken and Biscuits to partake of fried chicken and biscuits. In preparation for the expedition, my friend did some internet research, where he came across this site with a smattering of unfavorable reviews of the Popeye's Kenmore experience.

I don't know if the rocket scientists who found the restaurant overcrowded, slow and generally unpleasant were dumb enough to go to the Popeye's in Kenmore Square when 37,000 people assembled in the vicinity to see the Red Sox play. I could see where that mistake could be possible, since the Red Sox like to surprise the hell out of the local populace by just playing random games without any advance notice. For the love of God, the schedules are set out in advance, you can see when there's a game by looking at TV listings in the paper, on digital cable or on the web. You can read the sports pages. You ought to be smart enough to plan accordingly if you want to go Kenmore Square and not deal with headaches, traffic and overcrowding. And if you aren't smart enough, you ought to be polite enough to keep your damn mouth shut.

I found the restaurant to be scrupulously clean, efficiently run and a very good place to eat some fried chicken. I highly recommend it, and I hope that the Red Sox take to eating their pregame meals there. With that I must go. I apologize for tonight's brevity. I am mired in a food hangover from the substantial portions of fried chicken, biscuits (which taste like they're made from real butter, by the way) and rice and beans. I just don't have the energy to go on. Until the next time...