On a late weekday afternoon many years ago, my girlfriend and I were having a perfectly enjoyable time making out—no strenuous groping and no moaning, mind you—on a discreet pew in Grace Church on Broadway in Manhattan when some church warden or sexton or whatever tells us to take it somewhere else. The nerve.

It's "chauvin," you clod.

Agreed. In basketball March Madness, this would be a Kansas v. Nebraska final.

While I know very well that I will draw scorn from both sides of the commentariat spectrum in the Jezebel/Gawker axis (if anyone even sees this, of course), I say that, by virtue of her Dorothy Parker-for-Contemporary-Times writing superbnessitude, Madeleine Davies should have been given a slot in the Legal Drugs…

For next year's contest, file away the name Dung Ngo. He's an editor at Rizzoli and writes books about architecture and design.

Mine's called Potvin. Because Potvin sucks!

And there's "Mass," though the person did take one stab at Massachusetts. I salute this bracketologist all the same because I would love to see Mass dismantle Duke.

Oh, okay. That explains why they didn't go with the first idea: Pizza Yurt

Unrelated Fun Fact: the very first Pizza Hut is located on the Wichita State campus. In 1958, two Wichita undergrads started the business in a modest brick building in another part of the city; proud alums moved the birthplace of marginally tolerable Italian-style food products to its present location in 1986.

I wish Danny had given Coach K's hand an extra, suggestive little fondle, just to mess with the smug bastard a bit more.

Gin v. Rum looks like a squeaker. But if the bracket nomenclature had included my parents' nickname for gin—"Snarl Juice"—there would be no contest.

"US8! US8! US8!"