Singin, The March Blues



March is the most loathsome of months – not quite winter, not quite spring, tiresome, gray, gloppy and useless. A month to just get through and onto better things.

In months like these, comfort food is needed, even when it comes to magazine columns. You – poor, sun-deprived, cabin-fevered you – probably don’t have the energy to wade through an entire column on a single topic. And as much as I value your readership, I certainly can’t muster the limited mental fortitude it takes write such a column, either.

So, today, you get blurbs. Random thoughts. Musings. Stuff that zings into my head unbidden and just as often zings right back out and into a column template I’ve used since college called “Come Heller High Water …” which is essentially a column about nothing in particular and everything in general. In other words, it’s perfect for March:

  • A study out of England says horses can read our facial expressions. I think that’s true. The first and last horse I was on clearly saw the look of terror on my face and decided galloping was in order.
  • Another study says men’s brains age faster than women’s do. No woman I know would be one bit surprised. In our house, I’m the king of saying things like, “You know the actor I mean … the guy who was in that one movie about, you know that one thing. I don’t remember what year.”
  • Why do pro basketball players slap hands after missing free throws? Isn’t that like high-fiving after striking out? And why do soccer players act like they’re hurt a lot worse than they are? And why do baseball managers wear uniforms but football coaches don’t? And why are football players on the offensive line called tackles when they don’t? And why are running backs called running backs but quarterbacks aren’t called throwingbacks?
  • Have you ever noticed how many prescription drug commercials are set at fairs, carnivals, boardwalks and parks? Of course, you haven’t. You’re not an overly critical idiot like me. But now that I’ve put the bug in your head, see if you don’t notice the same thing.
  • If real guys were like sitcom guys, women would never marry us. Just sayin’.
  • Listen, I’m very serious about this: If someone made a whole loaf of bread that was just heels, I would buy it. I’ve been known to take all the slices out of the bag to get at the butt in the back. (Don’t judge. I like bread butts, and I cannot lie. You other fellas can’t deny.)
  • One of the best things about the Internet is its instantness. In a snap, anyone can broadcast whatever they want to the world. That’s also the worst thing about the Internet. Spend any amount of time online and you quickly realize how many truly ignorant and mean people there are in the world.
  • It’s almost “prom-posal” season. Every teenage boy is busy figuring out a big, showy way to ask a girl to the prom. I think that’s unfair. How’s a girl supposed to say “no” to a kid who rents a Lamborghini, hires Mr. T to drive it, and has the local marching band play “entrance” music? C’mon. Too much pressure. I prefer the old way: Boy asks girl who is way out of his league. She says “no,” then he goes home and develops a lifelong complex about what a loser he is.
  • If we had any sense, we’d drop March and go straight from February into April, thereby moving spring up an entire month. And if for even a millisecond you thought, “Hey, that sounds pretty good!” well, my friend, you have a more serious case of the March Blues than you realize.



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