On Friday night we went to a dueling piano bar, and one of the musicians looked like a curly-haired Nic Cage.

This has nothing to do with football, but yesterday my 14-year-old sent me the following text message:

“Father, I am curious as to if you’re transporting me to my biological mother’s abode this fine evening, or if I shall be visiting thine abode prior.”

He was very pleased with himself. Clearly this is my son.

Happy Wednesday, ya bunch of lawless ruffians.