Some Maniac Was Eating Mustard Straight Out Of A Giant Tub In The Stands At The Guardians Game Yesterday

Cleveland is a town with an unhealthy mustard obsession. Then again we are a town of many unhealthy obsessions. That's probably why our population is so pale and fat. Hot dogs are considered a delicacy and I know multiple women here who lean on their love of hot dogs as a major personality trait. In short, we're sickos. 

But none of our gluttonous vices disturb me more than how much we love mustard. It's a way of life in Cleveland. There are literally people with Bertman's Ballpark Mustard bottles tattooed on their bodies. I'm talking permanent ink that will someday be buried with them. Not of their mother who passed, not of their child's birth date, but of a a pungent, brownish condiment that you pour on pig anus tubes at a baseball game. 

Last year when the Mustard mascot for the Guardians was "sent down to the minors" because he was losing so many hot dog races there was a huge movement of people trying to get him to come back as Bertman's. I'm talking a full blown movement on social media. A yellow mustard mascot wasn't enough, we wanted OUR mustard represented. 

And then there are psychopaths like my podcast cohost Brian Kenny who put on absolutely abhorrent displays of love for mustard that cannot be unseen. 

Disgusting. 

Now I love mustard as much as the next guy but I think we need to get a handle on this madness. The dude who was shoveling mustard into his gullet via a giant spoon is obviously not a poor man. Even on a sparsely attended weeknight game those tickets right behind home plate aren't cheap. Yet here is this lunatic, spoon-feeding himself ballpark mustard like he's watching Saturday morning cartoons with a big bowl of Fruit Loops.

I have so many questions.

Did this man bring that wooden spoon? Because I have never seen those readily available around the stadium. And if he did that means this was premeditated and not some drunken act of debauchery. This man planned out a mustard spooning like it was the plot to assassinate JFK. And then executed his plan with absolute stoicism like a stone cold psychopath.

This man is spicy brown Lee Harvey Oswald.

How did he get that giant tub of mustard? Is security that lax at the games or do they encourage this type of objectionable behavior.

Does he have a significant other? If so does she enjoy the taste of stale mustard seed on her man's breath when they kiss? Is that her kink?

To each his own I guess. But I'll stick with one tiny, sexy, swirly string of mustard on my dog like a normal human being. 

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