By Sean Gallagher
Back in my grade school days, I hated my bike. A junker Huffy that was bright yellow and made a buzzing noize when it going fast, the thing was a goddamn disgrace. Taking it off our homemade jumps was like jumping an iron sled with concrete block saddlebags and square wheels. I hated that piece of shit.
Until my neighbor two doors down got his birthday bike and is was a pale yellow stingray with a glittery banana seat and chopper-style handlebars. Sure, it'd been the shit if he was a pre-pubescent drug dealer in the hood; alas he was no such thing. Hell, I think that piecer even had tassles hanging out of the handlegrips.
Instantly, my bike was 40% more acceptable. It still sucked and I still hated that thing, but at least it wasn't as bad as that kid's.
I had much the same feeling today when I was forwarded a story about the Phoenix Coyotes' new mascot. That's right, the PHOENIX COYOTES are being represented by "Pierre The Fanatic Hockey Snowman."
I couldn't have come up with something worse if I'd tried.
Can you imagine the brainstorming meeeting that led to this montrosity?
"Phoenix. Desert. Hmm."
"Coyotes. Animal. Hmmm."
"I've got it! What's the opposite of everything we are about as a franchise? How about a French-Canadian born inanimate object? We can even put in something about how much he likes hockey right in the name!"
And the slow clap commences.
To which we wonder, Just how much peyote is too much?