Requiem for a Team

It's Game Over for L.A.

This week, my most stoic and mostly non-political friends are suddenly electrified, incensed, outraged. Letter-writing campaigns have begun. Angry, plaintive emails are pouring forth.

What triggered this outpouring of normie rage?

Was it Bud Light and its ongoing trans can fiasco?

Nope.

Was it Target and its new “tuck-friendly” transgender children’s swimsuit line, supposedly sold by official Satanists?

Nope!

So what is making everyone upset this time?

This: the desecration of a piece of holy, sacred ground known as Dodger Stadium.

Ravine of Broken Dreams

Ah, Dodger Stadium! To grow up in Los Angeles in the eighties and nineties is to grow up at Dodger Stadium. Not just at the games, though my dad, a true-blue lifetime fan since they were in Brooklyn, took me to so many.

But also the events. The logo, plastered all over the city. And so many long summer days in the pool, at the beach, just hanging out, as the dulcet tones of legendary announcer Vin Scully called the game in the background. Vin Scully was the narrator to my childhood—he talked to me more than my father did—and Tommy Lasorda was everyone’s uncle.

Dodger Stadium in many ways is the “village town square” of Southern California. My senior class graduation night party was at the Stadium, in the clubhouse. They played our senior class video on the Jumbotron in the field. There I was, young Peachy, my face beaming out to an entire empty stadium.

I went to concerts there, too. In high school I was in the third row at Depeche Mode’s epic show. Years later, we took our boys to the Little League days where kids get to run around on the field.

I had high hopes for the new guy, a stellar 25-year old rookie named James Outman, who hit a home run in his first-ever at bat.

But now, it feels like it’s finally over.

)f course, games in Chavez Ravine have been deteriorating for a while. Two men beat Giants fan and paramedic Brian Stowe nearly to death 12 years ago and left him with permanent brain damage. Fights break out regularly in the parking lot, where “love and tolerance” are in short supply.

My husband, also a lifetime Dodger fan, went to a game recently and reported that the foul ball net now extends up over the seats, which dulls the immediacy of the game. Thy only purses allowed in are clear plastic bags. The crowd is largely Latino and young, and the blasting music and relentless video-game style promos on the Jumbotrons during every momentary break in the game exhaust the few old timers in the crowd.

This is not my father’s Dodger Stadium.

On June 16th, Dodger Stadium is having a funeral for itself.

My Culture is Not Your Costume, Sis

By now you know the story: The Dodgers invited a famous group of drag queens called the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence to the “Pride Night” game to celebrate Pride Month, and then they were disinvited and then swiftly re-invited after trans activists pressured them:

After significant pushback from the LGBTQ community they were purporting to honor, the Los Angeles Dodgers have reinvited the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence to the team's Pride Night celebration June 16.

In a statement released Monday, the Dodgers offered an apology to the Sisters, saying that "in the weeks ahead, we will continue to work with our LGBTQ+ partners to better educate ourselves, find ways to strengthen the ties that bind and use our platform to support all of our fans who make up the diversity of the Dodgers family."

Those ties were threatened when the Dodgers, kowtowing to conservative influences outside their community, such as Florida Sen. Marco Rubio and The Catholic League president and CEO Bill Donohue, removed the Sisters from their Pride festivities and rescinded a Community Hero award on May 17.

The Sisters had the balls (literally) to call their expulsion from the event “Catholic-bashing.” A wonderful example in the wild of an atheist using the famous “and you call yourself a Christian!” defense against an actual Christian.

Here is a video of the Sisters in action, performing an eyewateringly trite, totally gross nude pole dance strip tease….on a cross.

A greater backlash followed, with the San Francisco-based Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence vigorously refuting Donohue's claims of "Catholic bashing" and touting their decades of service dating to 1979.

The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence are not Catholic, of course. The are men devoted to bashing Christianity (and this is the most wholesome of their various “hobbies”) and making a mockery of real female nuns. They wear white face makeup and nuns habits.

The group started as a campy, San Francisco drag group, then they added AIDS activism, but now it’s neither of those. It’s full-blown cult indoctrination for the normies.

These are Gavin Newsom’s shock troops and they’re coming to normalize sex shows for kids and transgender surgeries for children.

I have written before about drag and how no one ever had a problem with it. Drag has been around for eons; people my age have enjoyed cabaret shows and drag queens as entertainment with no moral handwringing. It was a campy, slightly bawdy form of adult entertainment, and literally no one cared. Least of all me.

Of course, the drag is not the key here. The issue is not even fat, middle-aged chicken hawks wearing nun’s religious garb. Yes, it’s offensive and gross, but still fairly mild on the offense scale. The travesty here is the shameless Catholic hatred at the center of the group. “No shame, no guilt,” the Sisters like to say, encouraging their followers to indulge, perpetually.

Sisters, you are free to mock religion all you like. Go ahead: prove that free speech is still free.

The issue here is this: the Dodgers, an ostensibly “family friendly” organization, are going to hold these men up as moral leaders and give them a “community hero” award:

Community hero? Why does the Dodgers organization want to give adult entertainers awards? Would the Dodgers invite heroic strippers to perform? What about giving heroic porn stars an award for a local food drive they ran?

Dodgers Chairman Mark Walter, what say you? You seem mostly interested in nature charities, not this nonsense:

Aha, this is actually the handiwork of Erik Braverman, the Dodgers Senior VP of Marketing, the visionary who first brought Pride Night to the Dodgers.

Thanks Erik, way to go!

Pride events have been going on at Dodger Stadium since 2013. And no one cared. We still went to games, just maybe not on Pride Night. No baseball fan has ever pushed back against a special night where once a year, gay baseball fans are allowed into the stadium. Fine, you get to see one game. Just one! The others are ours!

No, but for real: do gay people not understand that they are quite welcome to go to baseball games literally all year round? It’s totally legal! Did they not get this memo? They can even wear rainbow pins on their Dodgers shirts and no one will beat them up!

Just, uh, don’t wear Giant jerseys.

Here’s the thing: The Sisters of Perpetual Grievance are sex-party strippers and party throwers strictly for adults—and for consenting gay men within a few blocks of the Castro and the nearest glory hole establishment. X-rated drag is not and has never been family-friendly entertainment—I don’t care how many AIDS patients they’ve visited in hospices.

Vin Scully died last August at the age of 92, and with him, so did his formerly great team.

Thank God he’s not here to see this.

Have fun at Pride Night, everyone! But beware: they’re playing the Giants.

Thanks for reading,

—Peachy