March Madness . . . is that like Mad Cow Disease?

March Madness is underway, spawning its own seeds of madness to the residents of our house.

Jedi-8 filled out his bracket with intensity and perhaps some misguided reasoning (i.e. he has San Diego going to the Final Four, and I'm pretty sure it's because he likes the San Diego Padres--yes, he does know they're different sports, but loyalty's loyalty, I suppose).  He is constantly interested in how his bracket compares to everyone else's . . . and loudly accuses teams of cheating if they aren't his pick.

For the first time ever, Jedi-7 rather spontaneously decided to fill out a bracket of his own . . . after asking what a bracket was.  He made snap judgment calls on most match-ups with the confidence of a bracketologist--that is, with the exception of wanting Oklahoma to win.  We had to explain that Oklahoma wasn't even playing.  Today, I'm not sure he even remembers he has a bracket.

Then we have the Jedi-Master--the man who made a poster-size version of the brackets when he was in high school (just for his own benefit).  This man is a true lover of the tournament, a rabid KU fan, and a wrath-filled hater of Duke.  He has filled out two brackets, a more practical one and a slightly crazy one.  Watch out, world!

My personal madness is slightly different.  I fill out brackets simply because Jedi-Master and I are very competitive.  This is an important time of year for us.  We can mock the other's ludicrous choices, revel in our personal victories, and hopefully smash the other one into the ground so I can do a triumphant dance on his grave (not that I'm counting on winning or anything). 

Unfortunately, I don't follow basketball for the most part and, therefore, have a very shallow well of information from which to draw.  In recent years, I've noticed a downward slide in my reasoning, pulling me towards the "girl choices."  What's the team color?  If it's orange, they must be winners.  This year, I even made one choice based on . . . wait for it . . . a mascot.  (Hanging head in shame.)

I know what you're thinking, since when did basketball trump robot parts?  Alas, I have no reasonable explanation.  I suppose that's why they call it Mad Cow Disease March Madness.