BY BRIAN GODAR
March Madness is here, so along with it, Poor Scholars did some goofy brackets of our own. Poor Scholars’ own Brian Godar unveils our Mascot Bracket.
BY ALEX RUSSELL
I’m hardly a “bro” in even the loosest sense of the word. I got a haircut today and my response of “none” to “what product do you use” was met with stunned silence. I say “And-1 Mix Tape” sometimes, but I’m pretty sure that might be the name of a guy in A Tribe Called Quest. I never say “epic.”
But I love Las Vegas, despite my lack of traditional bro qualities. (Brolities? Brahtributes? Broclivities?) It’s a fun town for a lot of the reasons some people hate it: the food ranges from amazing to disgusting, you can either drink at a fancy place or at Bill’s Gamblin’ Hall, and you can do anything you want to do within reason.
BY ALEX RUSSELL
I love March.
March is a beautiful month for sports for many reasons, but it’s obviously primarily about March Madness. I watch the “Second Round” (I refuse to not put that in quotes, we’ll call it the “Second Round” if you add more games, dammit) every year in Vegas. I have multiple screens going. I’m in too many pools to remember. I pretend I know anything about Vermont or Albany. I watch the tournament the same way a lot of people do: completely. THE ONLY WAY.
Finally, gracefully, NCAA tournament week has descended upon millions of easily distracted Americans like a powerful swell.
Anyone with any meaningful objectives that need to be completed over the next few weeks will have a heart wrenching choice to make. Teachers will have an (even) smaller attentive audience, bosses will cruise around offices slapping wrists and thousands of trees will be unceremoniously demolished to print millions of brackets that will eventually be butchered in every way imaginable by overzealous armchair hoops gurus. Yes, tournament time is upon us, and it remains the most engrossing time of year for anyone with an athletic pulse. Even those who otherwise have no business in the world of sports betting fork over low denominations of legal tender in the hope of catching the wave that sweeps so many others off towards the shores of hope, and, in time, despair.