WAHOO!!!

Every time there's a bit of national spotlight on the Cleveland Indians, the PC-gestapo emerge from the woodwork to bitch and moan about the team's mascot, Chief Wahoo. He's been around in some way, shape or form since 1946, yet the happy guy gets a lot of grief because his beatific features are somehow considered offensive to those who need to suck all the fun out of everything in life.

The team itself has boldly ignored the protests -- Chief Wahoo continues to be the face of the Cleveland Indians brand. To that, I say HELL YEAH! And, after tonight, I think I understand why. My son Emmett, who's 5, is just now starting to become interested in baseball (thank God!). Being a wise and just parent, I've conditioned him to hate the Red Sox and Yankees as a matter of course. But while we were watching the Indians get (sadly) stomped by the Sox, Emmett became mesmerized by the Indians' cap. He wants to wear Wahoo on his head. In spite of greed, drugs, the existense of subhuman Red Sox fans, and truly vile players like Curt Schilling and JD Drew, baseball is still, ultimately a kids game. If it takes a cartoon indian with a shit-eating grin to hook my kid, so be it.