So I'm at the Dodger game, having fun, making an ass of myself, shouting "Zubon wo doko ni arimasuka!" which, of course, is Japanese for, "Where's my pants?"

There's a kid in front of me, goofing around with a friend of his, tossing a lollipop back and forth.

So, naturally, I put on my Authoritative Adult Voice and say, "My God, be careful! That's a Blow-Pop, and it could go off at any moment! You've only got thirty seconds after you pull the pin!"

And the kid, this eight-year-old kid, turns around and gives me the most withering look of scorn I have ever received in my entire life. He looks at me like I'm dirt. This friggin' tow-headed tyke makes me feel like I'm a big oafish dolt who should just sit down and shut up.

So I sit down and I shut up and I can hear the wind whistle by.

And then the kid starts smiling. A big, got-you grin.

That kid's got a great future.