Some of us in Southern California actually realize what a gasbag and phony Dodger "great" Tommy Lasorda is (but I do give him credit for winning the Olympics baseball competition; that took something special). However, most are fooled and consider him to be some kind of icon and ambassador for baseball. Cough, spit, phlegm.
I was siting here in my post-Labor Day haze watching the Los Angeles Dodgers play the Chicago Cubs and luxuriating in Vin Scully’s always masterful narrative when a between-innings promo came on for Tommy Lasorda Bobblehead Night.
Lo and behold, I gazed at the little figurine, and whom did it resemble?
Not Lasorda, but Bill Clinton–almost to the T.
I think the message is clear from the Brahmin family from Boston that now owns the Dodgers–Jamie McCourt and some guy she’s married to–that if you love the Dodgers, and you love Lasorda (cough, spit, phlegm), then you have a moral obligation to vote for Hillary Clinton.
Thankfully, I became an Angels’ fan three years ago shortly after the McPhonies bought the Dodgers.
Talk about subliminal messages. Not really, talk about overt messages.
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Posted in Almanack Musings |
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