1. It’s Friday, March 27, 2015.

2. It’s either one, eight or ten days until Kentucky’s undefeated season comes crashing down. I believe. If it can’t be Notre Dame tomorrow, I really want it to be Wisconsin on April 4.

3. To: Gov. Mike Pence, Governor’s Mansion, Indianapolis

MIKE:

Later this year, my son and I will be driving from our home in New York to Evanston, Ill., and back.           

Unfortunately, that means I have to drive through your state — which, thanks to the “X” I imagine you used to “sign” your name, now has a law allowing businesses to refuse service to same-sex couples.

I would avoid Indiana if I could. Really.

But since I can’t, I’m establishing some ground rules for our trip.

First, I will make certain that I purchase gasoline for my vehicle in either Ohio or Illinois. I will not pay gasoline taxes that could go toward the salaries of the miscreants who support your stupid law.

Second, I will make sure that my son and I have cold drinks in the car, because there’s no way in Hell (aka your future home) I’m going to spend even two cents in Indiana. I even refuse to use a water fountain, because I might catch whatever illness you and your fellow morons contracted that enabled this travesty.

Third, I’m bringing empty water bottles just in case we have to relieve ourselves. Unless, of course, you can guarantee that a facsimile of the so-called “Religious Freedom Restoration Act” is on one of those discs that go into urinals.

Fourth, I will keep my car window open in case I feel like spitting.

Fifth, as much as I would like to drive at 100 mph to be out of your state as fast as possible, I will obey all posted speed limits and safety regulations.

Sixth, despite my indifference toward religion, I will fear for what passes for your soul. I suspect the God that you think you pray to isn’t going to be too pleased with what you and your fellow sinners have wrought upon people whose offense — in your squinted, virtually blind eyes — is to love who they love.

So that’s my Religious Freedom Restoration Act. God, or whoever, have mercy on you.