Tonight I'm not ranting about Georgetown losing to Davidson, all the subsequent "Davidson vs. Goliath" cliched hype even though they came two possessions short of the Final Four, the fact that Del Curry's kid prevented me from openly mocking Smashtar when the Hoyas inevitably woulda beat the beavers er "Badgers" in the next round, or how the few people who had the temerity to rub salt in the wound coincidentally never attended a basketball school.

I'm not ranting about how Blue & Gray isn't grooming his newborn daughter to be a Rock Band drummer extraordinaire so that I can call her "Cecilia E," because Lights in her post-birthing stupor won't allow a drum kit in the living room.

I'm not ranting about how the Dodgers blew their 50th anniversary game at the Coliseum by losing to the Red Sox on a surreal 200-ft. left field, or how the vendors ran out of Dodger Dogs forcing us to settle for $10 MGD for sustenance. (Because they took the opening series against the Giants.)

I'm not ranting about the Democrats' ongoing "jaws of victory" strategy, Obama's woeful bowling skills, Clinton's cryptic comments on the independence of pledged delegates that got buried beneath the whole Bosnia gaffe, or Frosty's usual crotchety curmodgeonly blather about how the whole system frickin sucks, man. ("Blegh!")

No, tonight, after a long day of work capped in front of the boob tube - I'm gonna go after those weird Cialis commercials.

What the fuck?

Do all couples get matching outdoor bathtubs once they get their AARP subscriptions? Some rite of passage you never hear about? (And maybe if they settled on one tub they wouldn't need the Cialis.)

When I'm crowned Benevolent Supreme Dictator all these creepy prescription drug and online dating ads are gonna be the first to go, followed by drivers licenses for people older than 63, followed by oil company public service spots about how they're part of the solution.