March 30th

Greetings, amigos! Bumpers here. I’m on a bus right now heading back to L.A. from my weekend getaway at the Betty Ford Clinic. I don’t care who you are, where you’re from, or what you do. If you want to get away and forget the stress of this workaday world, or if you’re battling a crippling addiction, nothing beats the serenity of the West Wing of the BFC. Which reminds me, Chevy Chase says hello.

Give me a second here to think about what I want to do with my first column. This is a big one. Sets the stage and whatnot. Of course, with that radio show, I hope I’m not spreading myself too thin. Okay, I’ve got it! Let’s talk basketball. College basketball.

After the regular season and three more weeks, we’re down to just two teams. The Michigan State Tigers, and the kids from Florida. My God, let me think who will win this game. I missed Saturday’s games because it was arts and crafts day at the Betty. I hear Wisconsin played a hell of a game.

While the popsicle stick house I made on Saturday is charming, it doesn’t tell me anything about who’s going to win tonight. Let me consult my good friend Johnnie Walker, who always has the answers. It’ll take a while because the bottle’s pretty full, but by the time I reach the bottom, old Johnnie will have told me who will win. That’s a little trick I learned when I was still knocking’ em dead in Carson City. Worked in a little joint called the "Yellow Nugget".

Speaking of Carson City, I ran into that young pup Carson Daly. I don’t know about you, but if you ask The Showman, this kid has the charisma of an old brown shoe. I’ve been more entertained by long division. In my day, you had to earn your way on television. What’s that? Oh, I’m sorry, my friend Johnnie is telling me not to bitch.

Okay, I’m back. Sorry about that. I dozed off for the past four hours. Ever wake up with your forehead in a TV dinner? I’m here to tell you it ain’t pretty.

Vasco de Gama did the devil’s work. You can’t trusst Portugale. Peach pie is tasty. So is Bernadette Peters. I tried to jump in her britches once, but she sprayed me in the eyes with Channel number five. Getting so tired.
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I’m sorry about that, I’m drunk. Drunk like a fox! Until tomorrow, this is The Showman reminding you, don’t accept wooden nickels.