Fondly remembering a fond memory of yesteryear, I remember strollin' along the sun drenched beach, looking for the salt shaker that Barbara " Sucker " Tucker had misplaced the prior evening during the mayhem of " Ten Cent Likker Night, " gazing at all the tourists with all that gooey crap that resembles motor oil all over their individualized person, nibblin' on Sponge Cake that Aunt Bessie had baked two months prior to this particular event, proudly displaying the " West Bracket Sucks " tee shirt that my ex-wife Priscilla , now Mister War Head's significant other, had given me back during our wanderlust days, and wondering when I'll have to return to the Flip Flop Store to purchase more of the footware that all East Bracket participants don all year while the West Bracket participants search for used beer tops with the geiger counter they bought in the Hillybilly Pawn Shoppe, carefully shining their Brogan boots to cover up the " mess " one of the inside goats left last night.