You know what we’re talking about. You want something so badly you think about it day and night, and when it doesn’t come off, you sink into a funk that’s a mile wide and twice as deep.

Take our boss, for example. He was so sure it was going to happen, actually announced that it would happen, and when it didn’t happen, he decided to take his disappointment out on us.

It all started last Thursday. He walked into the office from his private helicopter pad and after one look into those eyes you could see the firestorm that was about to rage down upon us all. “Slam in these dates for Thin Lizzy. Immediately!” he shouted to the closest data operator. And just to make sure he was understood, he whipped out a baseball bat and went at it with a couple of interns. Cripe, we hadn’t seen him this angry since Britney flipped him the finger down in Mexico.

Friday wasn’t much better. He marched up and down the processing pits, cracking his whip and issuing orders. “Enter those dates for Meat Loaf!” Crack! “Proof those dates for Fighting Gravity and Bon Jovi!” Crack! “Double-check the translation on that Canadian press release for the MTV Campus Invasion!” Crack! Crack! Crack! Now we know what they mean when they say, “Crack kills.”

Then the weekend was upon us and we thought he’d get over his disappointment, but oh, no. He spent Saturday and Sunday calling us up at home every five minutes, claiming that the B.B. King picture on the homepage was crooked or that the font used for displaying the dates for Chris Isaak and The Big Wu was a point size too small. Then there was that ugly incident with the custodial crew and the chainsaw, but our lawyers have advised us not to talk about it.

Yes, disappointment can be an ugly, hideous thing, and to watch a man sink into the depths of despair over something he cannot control is truly frightening. And as we spend today entering dates for Avenged Sevenfold, Your Enemies Friends and the Just For Laughs Comedy Tour, we can’t help but wonder, what’s next? What new form of brutality is he thinking up in that office of his, as he sits behind his big oak desk, downing shots of Jim Beam and toying with his 38 Special? Furthermore, we can’t understand why he’s taking out his disappointment on us. After all, it wasn’t our fault it didn’t happen. It’s not like we had anything to say about it. It’s not like we can control what happens in this loony, crazy world.

It’s not like we had anything to do with picking the winner of American Idol.

Oops, gotta look busy. Here he comes now wearing his “Justin Rules” T-shirt. Oy, it’s gonna be a long week.