BILLINGSGATE POST: Many moons ago, while living on the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota, I was told by an old Indian chief to, "never judge a man until you have walked in his moccasins for two moons.
I offered him some pemmican that I had stuffed into my saddle bag.
"Pony Boy, why do you come to my tent?"
"I have come to court your daughter, Chief."
"How many cattle do you have?"
"No cattle, Chief. But have big hat."
"How come big hat, no cattle?"
"It's a long story, Chief. When I was crossing the river with my herd of heifers, my hat flew off and scared the cattle. They stampeded and scattered into the brush. The only thing I could save was my hat."
"Daughter worth more than stinking hat. You go chase cows and come back, Pony Boy. Maybe trade old squaw for hat."
And that's why I loved the Chief's daughter, but hated his hatchet head.
NOTE: Dr. B is just warming up for March Madness.