We now join March Madness already in progress.
1. Backward. Arena: under the living room sofa.
2. Forward. That treacherous son of a bitch of a direction.
3. Fifty of 'em at least, all poised to erupt simultaneously, in fearsome rows, like a shark's.
4. That's what people used to use to numb their babies' mouths before cocaine was invented.
2. Super duh.
1. I hate William Saletan.
2. Give me your home address. I'm just going to mail you my manifesto. Promise that's all I want.
3. I'll be posting a detailed reaction to Rosin's article sometime in the near future, when Hell freezes over, pigs fly, and I stick a pickle fork up my nostril to eradicate the part of my brain responsible for remembering what happened last time I discussed similar.