Happy Birthday, You Dopey Bastard

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The 27-Time World Champion Greatest Franchise in the History of Organized American Sports gave Matt an early birthday present last week:

They swept the hapless, putrid, desperate, pitiful, vile team in green and gold:

The Oakland A's (the 'A' stands for atrocious).

Matt had the distinct pleasure of watching one of the four games with me.

He actually had the gall to argue balls and strikes.

I reminded him that he's a dopey bastard.

And he argued.

A couple of days after that we talked about the Bills chances for the 2016 season.

I'm not kidding here: he thinks they will win the Super Bowl.

We argued some more.

I taught him to accept nothing, to argue everything...

And while that is mind-boggling to me what isn't is that he's grown to be a man in a lot of other ways.

He works hard.

He treats his family with respect.

He is good to his girlfriend.

He usually thinks things through.

Yet...I would be remiss if I didn't embarrass him a little on this his birthday.

A couple of weeks ago there was a mouse in the back room...the tiny little thing was trapped in the exterior room where the dogs make their way outside.

This is how it all went down.

Sam: Dad, if you get home don't open the dog's door. There's a little mouse trapped in there. I don't want the dogs to kill it.

Me: Matt is home have him pick it up with a shovel and toss it.

Sam: He doesn't want to. I'll do it when I get home.

Me: Just tell him to do it.

Sam: He can't.

Me: Why?

Sam: He's scared.

Happy Birthday.

Watch out!!!

The baby mouse is coming for you!

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