As I am prone to do, I was thinking about Crackers and Salty Pete today.
The reasons to like Crackers and Salty Pete are obvious and plentiful. (There are two of them [presumably BFFs], one is a pirate and one is a parrot but they are both the same size, Salty Pete’s badass beard, and of course their names are “Crackers” and “Salty Pete”.) What’s not to love?
While I tend to like mascots, not all mascots are as awesome as Crackers and Salty Pete. Some mascots are totally wrong.
I just hate him so much.
Now, I’m sure Key Bank is a fine establishment, but this Key Bank mascot makes me angry. How is he supposed to walk with his legs all wrapped up in a key body? Look at his TEETH! Look at his weird lopsided eyes! Look at how he appears to be holding a freaky mascot-sized SYRINGE in this photo! LOOK AT HOW THE “KEY” PART OF HIS KEY DROOPS PATHETICALLY! ARGH! I can’t even DEAL with this guy.
The Phillie Phanatic is the undisputed greatest mascot ever.
My kind of man mascot
First of all, the Phanatic is all-around hilarious. Second of all, he goaded Tommy Lasorda into writing what might be the greatest unintentionally funny blog post of all time. (Thanks to andrew for the Lasorda link) Third of all, I have a good story about him. I’ve told this story many times, but I told it the best in the IPB threads last summer. Because Schnookie rocks, she tracked it down for me so that I may republish it here:
One time I was playing a gig with a boys choir in Philadelphia. I think it was a fundraiser for their group, because the show was very gimmicky and chock full of local “celebrity” guest stars (think weathermen and local politicians). We were clicking along, nearly to the end of the show, when out of no where, without any sort of reasonable warning, the Phillie Phanatic comes barreling through the orchestra. And I mean barreling. Stand and musicians were flying everywhere. I didn’t even really see the Phanatic until his hulking green furry body knocked over my music stand on his way to the podium. It was utter chaos. The musicians were giving absolutely no warning that the Phanatic would make a destructive appearance. Many of us were holding valuable instruments that could have been easily damaged, so a lot of musicians were pretty peeved, but the audience thought the whole thing was hilarious (which it was). A friend of mine told me later that one of the highlights of the entire debacle was hearing me say loudly onstage “Oh my God, it’s the Phillie Phanatic” in a tone tinged with both horror and reverent awe.
I’ve always wondered if the Phillie Phanatic somehow knew he could dramatically (and to great comedic effect) navigate himself through a cramped orchestra without doing any real damage, or if he was just drunk that day.
In closing, mascots are a hoot.