Last night the lovely Lady Vols of Tennessee defeated the upstart Stanford Cardinal squad to capture the women's NCAA national championship. Despite many awkward one-handed shots and play that appeared to be happening at 1/10th the speed of a normal hoops game, it was a magnanimous achievement.

The major accomplishment wasn't that the Lady Volunteers repeated their championship from a year ago, rather that no shock jock pointed out that the consistency of the losing team's hair was of a coarser, frizzier variety than the victors.

In case you didn't know, it's the one year Imus-versary today. Most of you are probably wondering how I celebrate/mourn the day after the women's collegiate national title game.

First I wake up and have a large breakfast. On an empty stomach, indignation can quickly turn into indigestion -- the number one enemy of a civil rights activists (other than riot dogs). Usually I eat 9 eggs, and 3 bowls of afroflakes. (Really they are just regular corn flakes that I draw over the label of.)

I spend the rest of the morning role-playing as Imus. I dress up in overalls, a cowboy hat and put one of those straw pieces in my mouth. Then I comb my pretty white hair (100 times -- not a stroke less), I cover my body in fresh lilac pedals and shave the hair off around my nipples.

After role-playing time, I spend the early afternoon calling every major TV media outlet to tell them I am available to speak about racism and pop culture in the post-PC age. I do this every day actually, but on Imus-versary there's a better chance they'll listen.

At night, I'll bake Imus cookies. They are black and white cookies, but instead of the vanilla and chocolate parts being two equally-sized halfs, the white is a large circle with a smaller concentric chocolate circle entrapped within -- the perfect scrumptious allegory for the black condition in America.

(Photo credit: Associated Press)