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Just do it, you filthy swine. Give into your laziness. Just go watch basketball.

No, no, no, don't apologize. Apologies are lies.  Be you right now. Sure there's spring football going on but yeah, go watch the Pinback State Bonerweepers get their teeth kicked in by Kentucky. You do that, and then write some bullshit about how you totally wouldn't hang around in velour tracksuits with John Calipari.

[/sprays entire can of whipped cream onto piece of fried chicken, eats it]

You mean these practice reports aren't enough? How? You're not fascinated by this? Look, this guy SHOWED today. He put forth EFFORT. Writers are taking a dude who's been there two months or so and are already saying how much they don't trust him. You know who wasn't a used car salesman? WILL MUSCHAMP BUDDY.*

*You know why you can trust a car from Will Muschamp motors well it's because you know that motor will always TURNOVER. I'm writing this while I'm throwing darts into a popcorn ceiling and drinking red wine vinegar in ignorant hope of a trace buzz. This isn't sad at all.

But fine, act like you care about UAB versus Iowa State and aren't just transparently gambling on the outcomes of games you barely understand in the middle of a work day. Get passionate about bad passing. Do it on Twitter. Tell an NBA fan how good it is. Watch them drive to your house and lecture you on the evils of amateur athletics. Get in a fight with them and burst through the wall and find me, throwing darts into a popcorn ceiling and saying yes: this is March, and we've been waiting for you, here at the end of all things.

Act like this picture isn't a sign of a khaki-colored apocalypse.

YES YOU GO AHEAD AND HAVE MARCH AND THE FINEST FOUR DAYS IN SPORT. The Season Of Nantz is here, and we will go to the west and hide in the desert until it is over. GO BLAZERS. Whatever. At least we've got the Masters to look forward to.

[/taps freon line, huffs until vision turns plaid]