Okay, I am taking over this danged silly old blog today to talk about something important! Baseball!!! Yeah, and even more important, I wanna talk about how girls can be good at baseball.
My name is Maisey Moira Morgan. I am a left-handed pitcher for the Carrollton Cardinals. That’s a boys’ Little League team, in case ya didn’t know. I ain’t the only girl in boys’ Little League, but I am the only girl on the Cardinals’ team. The only girl pitcher. The only WINNING girl pitcher. I woulda been an undefeated winning girl pitcher if Tyree Suggs hadn’t dropped that fly ball in the bottom of the ninth inning out in right field two weeks ago. I ended my season at 3 wins and 1 loss.
You see, the thing is, I know the secret to striking out boys at the plate. First of all, I am a left-handed pitcher. Those danged boys are all used to seeing the ball flung at ’em from the right side. Ninety-nine and two-tenths per cent of all pitchers in our league are right-handed. So are most of the batters. So that futzes them up right there. And on top of that, Uncle Milt taught me to throw a knuckle-ball two years ago. That is one amazingly hard pitch to hit square if you do it right. You curl your fingers on the ball and give a little sorta push-out with your fingertips as you let it go. And you try really hard to make the ball not spin as you push it towards the batter. It can do amazing things after it leaves my hand. Uncle Milt swears that he saw one of my pitches double-dip and then corkscrew as it went across the plate low in the strike zone. A mere boy can’t really get a good swing at a pitch if it flutters around like a crazy bug with butterfly wings.
But that ain’t even the real secret to my baseball success. You see, them danged boys all think they can step up to the plate and put their bat on any ball thrown at ’em by a mere girl. They are not afraid of me, even the third time they get up to bat after striking out twice before. My uniform is not exactly sexy, but all I really have to do is wiggle my behind a little and smile at them, and they don’t even seem to be thinking about hitting the ball any more. I get an even bigger smile on my sweet little face when strike three flutters past ’em. I always take ’em by surprise.
I expect to be the first woman pitcher in the major leagues one day. Remember my name. Maisey Moira Morgan. Future Hall of Famer.
(Disclaimer; Maisey might actually have a hard time claiming her place in the Baseball Hall of Fame, not because the major leagues don’t have any women in them, but because she is an entirely fictional human being, only existing in Mickey’s stupid little head.)
Coca-Cola Mind Control
If you’ve read very much of my goofy little blog, you’ve probably run across the fact that I am something of a conspiracy theorist and strange-twist believer… sometimes referred to as a tinfoil-hat-wearer, or that old uncle you don’t want your kids sitting next to at the Thanksgiving dinner table. And I’ve got another one for you. I discovered while obsessing about nostalgia and old ads in the Saturday Evening Post, that the Coca-Cola company is probably responsible for warping my mind as a child.
My plan in revealing this hideous conspiracy is to take a look at ads and illustrations that I saw as a kid addicted to reading Saturday Evening Post every week at Grandpa and Grandma Aldrich’s farm. I will scour them for hidden meanings and try to reveal to you the insidious plot underlying these mind-altering illustrations. Keep in mind that you should probably take everything I say in this article with a grain of salt. No, really, salt can protect you from subtle mind-control messages.
And, yes, I realize that not all the messages are that subtle. Sometimes they shout at you, “Drink Coke and you will have more sex!” And you have to remember we are trying to avoid that kind of mind control. We have to fight every instance of ad companies trying to take control over us by exploiting our baser animal urges.
So, let me take a momentary interlude, a break if you will. I have this big glass of Diet Coke I just bought at QT, and…
Well, that was good!
Coca-Cola has been at this for a while. This ad from the 1940’s is apparently attempting to win World War II through choice of soft drinks. Look at this feisty brew the soldier is about to quaff. It is actually struggling in the cup to get out and go bite some German soldier’s face off. Any American soldier who can choke this stuff down is tough enough to take on the Axis powers, Napoleon after Hitler dug him up and used Frankenstein’s scientific breakthroughs to re-animate him, and even several countries we weren’t actually at war with. Even Rush Limbaugh and his weird lesbian-farmer-subsidies theory can’t compete with Coke on this level of propaganda wars.
I also think Coca-Cola ads may have something to do with why I became a Cardinals fan when I lived in a place full of Cubs and Twins fans. I admit, I added the dialogue and the commentary, but I used to do the same thing in my head when I was eight and the Cardinals went to the World Series… and the Cubs could not win it all even with Ernie Banks on their team. The Cardinals beat the Yankees in 7 games!
I blame Coca-Cola. Especially their ad department. Cause the generic manager is telling the generic Oubs player to “Relax… take it easy.” But the Cardinals won because Bob Gibson had that laser-intensity stare that bored holes through Mickey Mantle’s bat! (It is Oubs, not Cubs, by the way. Look at the big “O” on his jersey.)
And you can’t tell me that the Coca-Cola ad seen here, the one with the white-haired goblin child casting a spell on you with his crazy eyes and pointing at your dark, delicious master isn’t seriously trying to mess with children’s minds. There used to be a big five-foot-tall metal sign with this very picture on it in the one and only alley in Meservey, Iowa. The one time I went to the barber there to get my hair cut I had to sit in that barber chair and stare at this evil thing staring back at me from the alley across the street. It warped me. For one thing, I never went back to that barber shop again… at least until I was in college and the sign was gone.
So, I seriously believe Coca-Cola was messing with my mind as a child. They did it through subversive ad illustrations in Saturday Evening Post Magazine. And if I’m completely crazy now, I blame them. You don’t see that kind of thing going on today, do you? Well, I mean, we should be very worried. Because it probably means they have gotten better at it.
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Filed under autobiography, baseball, baseball fan, commentary, conspiracy theory, foolishness, humor
Tagged as coca cola, conspiracy theory, humor, mind control, propaganda