New York Post – Some wrongs are not difficult to right. As my friend Mark Morley says, “It’s not rocket surgery.”
Yet, and for no good reasons, we inexorably sink lower, every day, by pathetic design. Meanwhile, the modern marketing and TV content rationale has become, “It’s no worse than this” or “It’s no worse than that.”
But what is it ever better than?
For example, the Mets and MLB seem to have no problem with the team’s traditional marketing slogan, “Let’s go Mets!” having added a vulgarity. Now, cued by young Pete Alonso, it’s “LFGM.”
So if he knows the F-word is so vulgar and inappropriate that it must hide behind its initial, why use it? Why not instead lose it?
These are the words of Phil Mushnick, the infamous New York Post columnist who has made a career out of policing vulgarity, showmanship and all-around creativity in the sporting world, occasionally doing so with not-so-subtle racist undertones. He has taken his time out of everyone’s day to claim Ronald Acuna is ruining baseball because he has swagger, dismissed Chance the Rapper as a White Sox ambassador because of his rap lyrics and criticized Stephen A. Smith for his perceived pandering “to young, urban, street-talkin’ sports fans.” All this is to say that Phil Mushnick clearly views himself as the last line of defense for old school decency in sports and sports media.
And now his grip on his pearls has gotten so tight that it would take a crowbar to loosen it. The latest harbinger of doom to his fairy tale world is the Mets, and specifically Pete Alonso, rolling with the season mantra of “LFGM.” As a friend of a friend of Phil Mushnick put it, it’s not rocket surgery to figure out what that stands for, and it’s frankly a fun, catchy phrase to build a brand around a shortened baseball season.
But Phil Mushnick is bothered by that little “F” in there. It’s vulgar, he says. Think of the kids, he says. Nevermind that baseball’s average fan is in their late 50s (though to be fair to Phil, that would make them roughly 200 years his junior, if his opinions are any indication of his true age). Nevermind that I wrote HAKAS on every yearbook when I was in third grade and had a full breadth of curse words at my disposal. And also nevermind that swearing is a fun way to tell Phil Muschnick where to stick it. At the crux of his argument, Phil is basically just saying that he doesn’t like the world to be rated beyond PG.
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Further down the article, he cites Black Lives Matter protesters for adding the F word to graffiti (putting quotes around the word “protesters” to further illustrate how much of an old, white, boomer curmudgeon he is). He criticizes ShowTime (a network that aired Dexter and Shameless, among other TV-MA-rated shows) for giving Matt Barnes and Stephen Jackson a platform to use the N-word amongst friends. And then he caps it all off by using the snowball fallacy to essentially say adding the F word to life will sink society lower.
Here are the closing lines Phil Mushnick thought would really hammer home how lost we are as a society:
“Would Alonso teach the kids in his life to speak vulgarities? He can’t do any better?
‘Dad, what does the F stand for?’
‘Go ask Uncle Rob Manfred. He said kids are MLB’s top priority.’”
First of all, Pete Alonso would never allow his kids anywhere near Rob Manfred’s sweaty ass. Also, Pete Alonso is a stud 25-year-old with no kids and is likely not in a hurry to have some. At least, not until that first hefty contract kicks in. So yes, Pete is going to speak like he wants to speak around teammates and put that shit on a shirt because marketing is king to the youth vote. And if a parent doesn’t feel comfortable explaining what “LFGM” stands for, then they can lie, you know, like you’re supposed to do with kids.
Quick digression: Power Ranking of Top-Five Things LFGM could also stand for:
- Let’s forego goat’s milk
- Life forgot General Motors
- Leaves fall gracefully, man
- Laurence Fishburne got Matrixed
- Luke Falk, gigantic mess
In the meantime, we applaud the Mets’ youth for being the bane of some old guy desperate for attention, scribbling nonsensical diatribes over candlelight with a feather quill. You are the future.
Let’s fucking go, Mets.
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