Cultural vandalism is rampant in sports.

Major league baseball’s Cleveland franchise banished its beloved mascot Chief Wahoo and their “Indians” name and adopted the insipid “Guardians” moniker. Sadly, the same thing happened when Washington’s milquetoast front office caved to the woke crowd and whose Redskins war paint was washed off after 90 years to reveal the laughable “Commanders” tag.

The originals were all “culturally inappropriate” say the misguided mascot scalpers who have probably never attended a single DC football game or a Cleveland baseball game but are determined to screw it up for those who do so regularly.

For Washington and Cleveland fans the mascot names were all they had left since neither team has accomplished much of anything for their followers to cheer about the past 25 years.

While cherished Native American names are banished for being “demeaning and insulting,” the nitwits that run the L.A. Dodgers organization has taken it a step further. These morons insist its fans be subjected to a crudely insulting vulgar in-your-face group that mocks and defames Catholics.

The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, an obnoxious and disgusting organization, is being honored by the L.A. Dodgers for being gross and disrespectful of the Catholic religion. It has no ties to the Christian religion and describes itself as being “a leading-edge order of queer and trans nuns.” Its members perversely dress up as nuns while encouraging lewd and sacrilegious behavior. The Dodgers struck out on the national stage by presenting this group of freaks a “community hero award.”

Why, in a city that is one-third Catholic, would the Dodgers baseball team honor this lewd and disgusting organization whose signature is the mockery and blasphemous vilification of their traditional and sacred Catholic rituals and symbols? The Dodgers management, which obviously suffers from a number of brain-numbing beaning’s is taking its cues from Target and Koehl’s. Did they hire the former Bud Light marketing team?

Even Dodger pitchers Clayton Kershaw and Blake Tienen voiced their displeasure about their team’s decision to honor this vile group.

“I am disappointed to see the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence being honored as heroes at Dodger Stadium. Many of their performances are blasphemous, and their work only displays hate and mockery of Catholics and the Christian faith,” said Tienen.

Would the Dodgers invite a group of white-faced clowns dressed up as rabbis in yarmulkes running around the field mocking the Jewish faith? Would it invite a group that mocked Mohammed and the Islamic religion? No! So why did it single out Christianity, a group that is more tolerant of the pride crowd than any other? In many Muslim controlled countries homosexuals are jailed and in many cases executed. Orthodox Jews maintain that the Bible forbids homosexual relationships and identities, and emphasize that only marriages that consist of a husband and wife are consistent with Jewish tradition.

The Dodgers’ sponsorship of this vile anti-Christian group is more abhorrent than any caricature of  a Native American-themed warrior by a sports team. It’s time for Dodger fans to go on the warpath and do some scalping other than with tickets.

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Dikembe Mutomba

Speaking Of Sports: I thought I knew a lot about Amelia Island resident Neal Freeman, a nationally celebrated author and newsman until I read his article in the June 1, National Review headlined: “Think the Denver Nuggets Have Come a Long Way? You Have No Idea.”

I know Neal boasts a number of impressive credentials including TV producer, business executive, commentator, and accomplished public speaker. But not until I read the article was I aware that Neal was once a member of the ownership team of the NBA’s Denver Nuggets, a team now battling for the first time in its history for the World Championship of that sport.

In the article Neal explains how he and two other executives of a satellite company they ran took over the pathetic Nuggets franchise writing: “In 1989, I came into the ownership group — not, of course, through the front door with a nine-figure check, but through the side door with a happenstance connection.”

He goes on to hilariously describe that miserable team’s early years, some of its more eccentric players, their antics on and off the court, and the fan reaction to it all. His descriptions of players, particularly the finger-wagging massive Dikembe Mutombo are captivating.

Neal Freeman

The Nuggets played their first game 56 years ago, and in the intervening years they have never won a championship. “Not even close,” explains Neal.

How bad were they. Here’s how Neal describes the team in the article: “To put the matter plainly, the Nuggets were not good at basketball. One season, we were so bad that we won 11 games. That would be 11 games from a regular-season schedule of 82 games, which is to say that we won less often than once a week. How did we manage even that feat? By catching a tired opponent on the second game of a back-to-back, say, or lucking into an injury-depleted team at the end of a long road trip, or banking in a wild shot at the end of a sloppy, out-of-control game. Mostly, we lost and lost and then lost some more. Our fans stayed away in droves. At home games, when we would announce the night’s attendance, the small, beer-soaked crowd would laugh out loud, knowing that we had counted generously.”

Personally I’m not a basketball fan, particularly the NBA, but I was riveted by Neal’s article and was left wanting to read more. I can’t do this fascinating piece justice. So you can read yourself at: www.nationalreview.com/2023/06/think-the-Denver-Nuggets-have-come-a-long-way-you-have-no-idea/

Neal was a friend and confidant of William Buckley, Washington DC Bureau Chief of the National Review, produced more than 1,000 TV programs and won Emmys and a Peabody, was a friend and appointee of President Ronald Reagan, producer of the “Firing Line” TV show, book author, CEO of a communications and investment company, and so much more. I can now add part-owner of an NBA franchise. I’m more than flattered to call him a friend.

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Sick Call: A full-page ad in the Fernandina News Leader this week caught my attention.

The Page 3A ad in the Wednesday, June 7 issue showcased the Millennium Physician Group, and featured large flattering photographs of five doctors – four guys and a gal.

The headline on the ad exclaimed: “It’s finally showtime!” I’m assuming that’s a reference to its new location in the former South 14^th Street movie theatre location. Another ad headline proclaimed: “Our new location opens Thursday.” This was followed by photos of the five grinning white-coated MDs.

The only other information in this ad explained that it’s a “Primary care/walk-in clinic open seven days a week” and offers “lab and radiology.” There was also an address and phone number.

That’s nice. But if I currently need or think I may need medical attention in the future I’d like a bit more information. For example if an ad announced the opening of a pizza joint they’d probably offer a two-for-one deal like “buy one loaded pie and get another one half price.”

Why didn’t the folks who created this ad adopt a similar approach? For example: “Opening Day Double Feature Special: Buy one colonoscopy and receive a second one for your spouse at half price, plus a free medium popcorn.”

“Hey honey grab your purse we’re headed to the Millennium Clinic for the Wednesday matinee!”

Or how about making going to the doctor’s office fun. For example, print a headline above the doc’s photos asking: “Guess which one earned the nickname ‘Clumsy’ in medical school?” or “Which one finished last in their class?”

If I had created this ad I would have added coupons offering discounts on intestinal malfunctions, minor aches and pains, muscle deterioration, mental instability, memory lapses, hearing and vision issues, seizures, abnormal growths, impotence, coronary failures, hemorrhoids, and death.

I’d also offer a men’s special. ”Hey guys, we’ll never ask you how much your drink, if you smoke, exercise, eat meat, hang out at the Hammerhead or ever dated a local stripper named Bambi, who is also a frequent patient here.”

Time for full disclosure. One of those physicians featured in the ad is my primary care doc and another cares for my wife. They’re both nice enough people, personable, and, as far as we’re concerned competent, attentive, and thorough.

We’re still here so I suppose this qualifies as a testimonial.

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Smoked Mullet Follow-Up: My good friend Steve Hall’s delightful wife, Susan, surprised me this week with a generous gift of a container of “smoked mullet” dip she purchased while shopping at the local Winn Dixie.

Susan had read my article here last week lamenting the fact that there are no venues hereabouts where I can purchase smoked mullet. So I was pleasantly surprised to receive her more than gracious present.

I’m grateful. Now, where can I find a place that smokes and sells entire filets of this wonderful delicacy?

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Things I Wish I’d Said:  “How can you tell when you’re out of invisible ink?” – Steven Wright.

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Being A Geezer: More than 50 years ago as a reporter driving to an assignment for the Tampa Tribune, I pulled up to a stop light in downtown St. Petersburg. My car, which may have been poking just a half foot or less into the cross walk, caught the attention of a well-dressed elderly man with a cane walking across the street in front of me.

Even though I was not blocking his path, he expressed his displeasure of my slight crosswalk intrusion by turning directly toward me, lifting his cane, and bringing it down on the hood of my car. Very slowly he would raise the cane and repeatedly smack it down on the hood. He did that several times. When the light changed to green he nonchalantly walked away. Despite the fact his cane-whacking caused me and those behind me to sit through a green signal neither I nor anyone else honked or made an effort to discourage this geriatric fellow from whacking my car or told him to move on. There was no serious damage to the car, as if anyone could tell since it wasn’t much to brag about anyway.

However, as I now look back and am probably approaching the age of this disgruntled old timer, I’ve started thinking that geezer-hood has some advantages. I can possibly get away with doing things now that would have had me tackled, cuffed, tried, and confined in my younger years.

As you get older you begin to realize that time is valuable. You shouldn’t be wasting your geezer time reading foolish nonsense like this blog. Take me, for example. I’m  making a list of things I can get away with as a geezer. Like the old-timer in St. Pete, I don’t plan on going out with a whimper.