It's G-Fafif's Birthday on Wednesday... let's wish him a happy birthday, Faith & Fear style, such as... It was my birthday and I went to the place that I love best, Shea Stadium. There are only two seats left so I climbed to the upper deck, sat in one of them, and sighed. A wrecking ball was swinging below me, unlike Beltran when Wainwright's ultimate pitch arrived, but I didn't care. I was in Shea Stadium; even if it became a Ballroom Blitz of destruction, it would still be sweet. And I still couldn't get a blintz, or a good knish, at Shea, right up until the end. So I sat in one of the two remaining seats, alone, thinking that I was the only one in the park, when a voice called out, "Happy Bird-day!" I looked around, and some shmuck (not a putz) was in the only other available seat. "Happy Bird-day!", he called out again. I stewed as the wrecking ball went back and forth, until I looked at him and said "it's BIRTHDAY you fool, my birthday!" And then he said "that's what I said, it's just how I talk." And I felt badly, even if he was lying, because he was a Mets fan. We walked out of Shea Stadium together, toward the LIRR, and smiled. All in all, it's not bad being a Mets fan. Sometimes it's even better than a random episode of The West Wing.