Busty Bracket

The choice represented an alphabet-soup of possibilities:
UNC-USC on CBS -- or Miss USA on NBC.
"Which will build more character while creating lasting memories?" seemed to be the question with which our conscience and our intelligence grappled.
Miss USA on NBC or USC misses on CBS?
All of it in Samsung mid-def clarity!
Chicks in bikinis -- or Billy Packer continuing to rant about "dribble penetration"?

Thanks for sealing the deal, Bill.

Whether you're pro-UNC, pro-USC or pro-USA, the outcomes were virtually guaranteed to be fairly predictable.
We KNEW that after a blonde-bimbo junkie ("allegedly") was last year's Miss USA champ, Trump would attempt to balance out the universe by ordering that a light-skinned black chick from Tennessee (Rachel Smith) would be the winner.
It's all part of "the rotation," all window-dressing aside.

Who pays the price? In this case, the drop-dead, jaw-dropping, visually-masterful Miss Rhode Island, Danielle Lacourse.
It's a guarantee that University of Rhode Island b-ballers Joe Mbang and Parfait Bitee -- a pair of Cameroonistas who, back in the homeland, had only previously read boxscores from the Miss Yaounde Pageant -- were probably watching, nodding in agreement and saying something to the effect of "roll over Zimbabwe and tell the Congo the news."

Okay ... before we get ahead of ourselves and ponder what it would be like to Mbang the Mbejeeezus outta THAT, let's remember that The Donald's message to America is that he does not want us to objectify women.
Unless that woman is Marla Maples (laugh track).

No one really knows if, when crunch-time arrived and the two finalists -- Rayche and Dani -- were seen standing nervously face-to-face while clasping hands as the final verdict was about to be read, was Trump's way of playing God as viewers hoped, begged, wagered and predicted that the two would embrace and furnish a lip-lock of epic, maybe even "Biblical," proportion.

"God ... if you really do exist, can You make me the meat in that Rachel/Danielle sandwich?" seemed to be the question with which our conscience and our intelligence grappled.

HALT!
Is that dribble penetration -- or are ya just glad to have this pageant reach its climax?

Even though the Miss USA pageant can't hold a candle to the Miss Teen USA or the Miss Universe pageants (or, for that matter, Miss Nude America), it's more safe and more sane than "Packer's Theory of Dribble Penetration."
Also, everybody knows that THE fan-fave of such pageants during the past year was that little, roley-pole bundle of sunshine named Olive Hoover, not the boozed-up, coked-out ("allegedly") Tara Conner.

Make no mistake, Abigail Breslin got jobbed during the Oscar-night pageant.

Hey, look ... we all know that these events are what made the USA numero uno (events which highlight the allure of the rack and the caboose) ... and, yes, they are mindless good fun.
Still ... what was with Miss Montana winning "Miss Congeniality" and Miss Alabama taking "Miss Photogenic"?
Was not The Donald enough of a visionary to create a real-world category, such as "Miss Most-Likely To Have Nachos BellGrande Eaten Off Of Her Inner Thigh"?

The dubiousness of such competitions runs pretty high when the co-hosts are Nancy O'Dell and some Brit-Aussie/whatever named Tim Vincent.
Nobody really knows what a Tim Vincent is, aside from the fact that his accent indicates that the bloke is "non-USA."
Dude coulda scored some major emcee brownie points if he'd quipped about "the carpet not matching the curtains."

'Cuz that's what we Yanks do in the USA, ya bloody, incompetent sod ...

Another thing we Yanks like to do is dream about taking Danielle Lacourse to a college b-ball game and hearing her whisper, "That guy doesn't look as though he can consistently knock down the 12- to 15-foot J, so why is he spotting up from 19-9?"
The dream continues with Danielle's nude-up meter overheating when our wry response is, "This is how it works, Dani. The 3-point line is like a beautiful woman. Most fellas obsess with it, but when they cozy up to it, they get all clumsy and awkward ... and then they end up firing blanks and making a big, sticky mess."

OK ... so what about the story of USC vs. UNC -- wherein one team shot its proverbial wad in an indiscriminate manner?
If nothing else, at least, on the flight home to South Central, Troy's Boyz can share a lifetime of memories about how, when Wes Miller was on the floor, they didn't exploit the untalented kid's inability to do anything other than heave off-target shots from 24 feet.

That's what's great about the USA -- coaching legends such as Digger n' Dickie V. n' Lavin making excuses for Tim Floyd, who coaches at a university wherein all the great b-ball glory belongs to Cheryl Miller and Lisa Leslie.
(And it ain't gonna change when that beauty queen, O.J. Mayo, suits up)

It's up to 'SC fans to determine if this flop vs. the very-beatable UNC-Chapel Hill was worse than 5 years ago when that vastly-talented team led by Sam Clancy exited the tourney at the hands of UNC-Wilmington, highlighted by Somebody Named Stuart Hare knifing between three Trojans and throwing down a vicious, two-handed dunk, complete with the hanging on the rim and the pulling up of the knees to the elbows as all the kids do nowadays.

Yes ... Sam Clancy was extremely photogenic as he watched Somebody Named Stuart Hare posterizing him.

What the USA doesn't know yet is how photogenically correct and congenial Roy Williams will be in his suit, his eyeglasses, his suntan and his Southern twang when he accepts his First Runner-Up (or Second Runner-Up or Third Runner-Up or Fourth Runner-Up) trophy.

It matters not because even though Wes Miller is the nicest team manager who ever forsaked handing out towels and water bottles during timeouts, he's a dreadful b-baller who has a lot of years of rec-league frustration ahead.
But, just wait'll he shows the fellas at the rec center his 2004-05 national championship ring.

Then again, maybe he won't -- just to avoid the barbs of the other naked guys in the locker room.
"They give ya one of these for handing out towels and water bottles? What do they give Roy Williams' secretary -- sapphires and emeralds?"

Maybe.
But, sometimes all the gal wants is a pearl necklace.

Which is where Nancy O'Dell comes in.
With her unmatching cuffs n' collar.

Which means that only one question remains: Who wins the race to Playboy's centerfold pages -- Danielle or Dannielynn?
Either way, they'll each make their mamas proud.

The madness marches on -- the only downside being when those of us who were like Tara Conner last year (a bracket champion, just w/o all the cocaine and mashing with other chicks) have to pass our crown on to the winner which The Donald deems worthy ...