A poultry problem at the ballpark

When you’ve been married for a long time — for Suzi and I it will be 17 years later this month — disagreements are inevitable.

In our case, it’s mostly because she still doesn’t understand that I’m right all the time.

OK, most of the time.

OK, some of the time.

OK, on occasion I’m convinced I’m right … probably.

But I wasn’t expecting our domestic tranquility to be threatened by …

… a dancing chicken.

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The worst game ever

It was likely in the wee small hours of an October morning in 2004, and I was not happy.

As I was spitting and sputtering before going to bed, my wife Suzi tried to tell me there was no need to be upset.

After all, the Yankees only needed to win one more game.

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