On Monday afternoon the internet was abuzz with the news of the new addition at Wrigley Field. I speak, of course, about Clark the Cub. The new mascot of the Chicago Cubs.

Now, I could make fun of this, but I won’t. Not because it would be too easy and I like a challenge, because I don’t. Easy jokes are just fine with me. Nor is it because I’m a White Sox fan, and I have no room to talk considering I have no fucking clue what the White Sox mascot, Southpaw, is even supposed to be.

I’m leaving it alone because when you’re over the age of 12 a mascot is supposed to be stupid. They aren’t there for the adults.

My only complaint is that Clark will be some poor bastard making far too little money to slowly dehydrate inside a costume on a muggy July afternoon at Wrigley Field. People in costumes suck. If professional teams want to find a mascot that will grab my attention and give me a reason to care, they’ll follow the lead of college athletics.

Want to see the LSU mascot that opposing players are forced to walk by every time they walk on to the field at Tiger Stadium? Here he is.

That is a fucking mascot. He doesn’t give a shit about the team, and he doesn’t give a shit about you. The only thing that separates him from ripping your throat out and drowning in your warm, pulsating blood are a few iron bars.

He’s not there to entertain you, he’s there to strike fear in the opponent.

So I think that instead of Clark the Cub, the Cubs would be better off keeping this in a cage right next to the visitor’s dugout. Just replace the camera well.

Until then, I don’t give a shit.

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