Remarkable!  Amazing!  Astonishing!  Miraculous!   Phenomenal!  Incredible!  About time!  Noooo, I’m not talking about my new haircut.  I am talking about the CHICAGO CUBS victory in Game 7 of the World Series.    

The curse laid down in 1945 by Billy Goat Tavern owner William Sianis (he was asked to leave Wrigley Field because his pet goat Murphy – who he’d brought to the Field – smelled worse than most goats) is now over.  Done.  Kaput.

I like to think that I deserve some small margin of credit for the Cubs success.  Why?  You ask.  Okay.  What is the current year?  2016.  Two – Sixteen.  My birthday.  And how many games did it take for the Cubs to clobber the Indians?  Four of Seven.  ’47 – my birth year.  And they did it in extra innings (which is where I would like life to take me).  Soooo, it was bound to happen.  Two sixteen four seven.  In extra innings.  Yep.  So last March I put down $250 in Las Vegas on the Cubs winning the World Series in 7 games.  At 883 to 1.  Oh wait a minute. . . . I forgot that part.  Darn. 

Wait’ll next year. . . . .