Pretty much made it through March without paying a bit of attention to the contrived March Madness. If it weren't for the big picture of a Hoya's armpits on the front page of the Metro I think I would have been totally oblivious.
Sheer genius. Take a void, and fill it. It reminds me of the two shoe salespeople who were sent to the little developing country. (This is PC Massachusetts, so I can't say two salesmen who were sent to Africa or to a third world country.) Anyway, these two salespeople were sent to a developing country and after a week the first one comes back and says, it's impossible to make a living there, they don't wear shoes there. The second one emails back and says, send more shoes, they don't have them here.
March Madness is Hallmark Cards on steroids: forget cooking up a special day for mothers, fathers, grandparents, lovers, secretaries, or just missing you, do the completely American thing: Think big. Really big and ostentatious, and give us an entire month of a completely manufactured event.
Then promote the hell out of it to people who are sheep who just do whatever the television tells them to do so you can:
Sell them beer, cars, and cell phones.
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