Irresponsible Anthems for the Children

The indoctrination of youth begins early.  Baptisms, Fourth of July parades, and tractor pulls are but a few tribal rituals we fervently believe will enhance the lives of unwitting children.  With great conviction, we drag the little ones, lollipop in hand and stumbling naively, into every conceivable adult preoccupation in the hope they will adopt our values as their own.  To this end we force them to say things they clearly do not understand.  How many children currently believe “eli minnow” is an actual letter of the alphabet?  How many children, eyebrows raised earnestly, expertly recite the Pledge of Allegiance without a clue to its meaning?  Oh well, eventually they get it.

One delivery system for childhood indoctrination is the sporting event.  In fact, I presume all current season ticket holders were at one point in their lives bribed to sit-down-and-behave with ice cream served in a tiny, upside-down helmet.  The problem I have noticed, however, is a disturbing trend in the world of interstitial baseball entertainment:  the awkwardly inappropriate pop song played between innings and at bats.  The chilling video evidence presented below harbingers the inevitable moral collapse of drunken, rhythm-less white people everywhere.


You may not have noticed, but the particular song lyrics to which all those little tykes happily bopped up and down is about murder.  Yep, that’s right, Murder.

I’m coming to get ya, coming to get ya
Spittin out lyrics, homie I’ll wetchya

Anyone familiar with ‘90s gangsta rap knows what wetchya means.  Did you also notice how the children were duped into participation by the introductory image of a kindly dowager and her pastoral cowbell?  If that wasn’t enough, the susceptible young minds finally succumb to the snugly feline disc jockey, DJ Kitty, secretly known as Minister of Evil Propaganda to the Innocents.

There are other examples of this disturbing phenomenon.  Willy Aybar used to strut to the plate while his favorite song about a stripper echoed through the catwalks.  Deadeye killer Rafael Soriano took the field to the Latino gangster stylings of Pitbull.

I’m really not sure what to make of all this.  The songs are fun and the adults need to be entertained too, but it’s kind of weird to have the kids listening to this stuff, right?  They might not be able to understand the lyrics at the game, but later they will seek out these song lyrics on the internet.  Then they’ll get it.



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