Hello, Grandson.

It’s been a while.

I’m sure you’re a little freaked out to hear from me.

Besides, I’m dead, and have been for 14 years.

But I did hear you the other day after my beloved Cubs won the World Series: “If only Grandpa was here to see his Cubbies finally win the World Series.”

Yeah, it’s tough.

Later, you said, “I’m sure he’s up there watching and smiling from ear to ear while downing an Old Style.”

Well, you’re right about the Old Style. I’m usually drunk up here in heaven.

But no, I’m not smiling or happy for you and all the other Cubs fans still alive in the world.

I slogged through 95 years of this shit team and never got to celebrate my team win. Don’t you think I would’ve liked to see my team win once in my long, sad life?

And, did you really have to bring along a women-abusing closer to make it happen? Me and the other dead Cubs fans figured we’d have the Rajai Davis home run happen to make you guys sweat a little bit.

Besides, that wasn’t even real baseball. They took Kyle Hendricks off after 63 pitches in Game 7. Mordecai Brown literally rolled over in his grave after that. Old Three Finger threw up the middle finger too. Well, one of his fingers anyway. Hard to tell.

And how did all of those Mexicans get in the league? Someone should really build a wall.

We honestly petitioned God to not let the Cubs win for all you poseur pricks in Wrigleyville. But in the end, as everyone knows, God Hates Cleveland.

So, screw you and all the other fair-weather fans celebrating my title.

And get your Grandfather another Old Style.