Happy Mardi Gras and Welcome Bryce Harper to Philadelphia!

Bourbon Street, New Orleans

March roared in like a lion this year, with a mini-snow storm yesterday in the Philadelphia area, a major snowstorm brewing for Sunday night into Monday; and extremely frigid temps are forecasted for the rest of the week. So much for the groundhog’s prognostication of an early spring.

The only thing that’s assured weather-wise, as stated by Al Sleet, the Hippy Dippy Weatherman in 1966, is the “Weather tonight: dark; turning partly light by morning.”

At least baseball has brought me some hope for a splendid upcoming season, with the arrival of Bryce Harper to the Phillies. He finally signed on to the team, becoming one of our hometown heroes, giving us spirited anticipation that the Fighting Phils will be big-time contenders for future World Series action.

Harper now holds the record for the all-time highest-paid team-sport athlete with a 13-year contract worth a whopping $330,000,000. That breaks down to $25,384,615 per year, an average of $156,695.16 per game.

Manny Machado will make more annually with the San Diego Padres, but his contract is only for 10 years, while others in various team sports will be taking home larger annual salaries, but not contracted for as many years as Harper.

Babe Ruth’s contract with the NY Yankees for the 1927-29 seasons was for $70,000 annually, which, in 2019 dollars, was worth somewhere between $31.5M and $46M, according to this article from the baseball blog: Off The Bench. 

Mickey Mantle’s 1963 salary reached $100,000 per year, bypassing Babe’s highest yearly salary of $80,000: the previous all-time record-holder. Mantle’s windfall adjusts to $826,424.34 in 2019 U.S. currency.

The preceding goes to show how inflated baseball salaries have become. What are all the naysayers and whiners going to complain about, now that Bryce Harper has signed on and is an official Philadelphia Phillie?

Anyway, I’m waiting with bated breath for spring and baseball season to officially begin. My beloved ospreys are scheduled to return to the area in about two weeks, so light is appearing at the end of the long-winter tunnel.

Mardi Gras festivities are in full swing with the culmination of activities arriving on this coming Tuesday. It’s time to shake the devil for the next few days, making me cut this week’s tirade a bit short.

For your homework assignment, think of what you might give up for Lent, if you observe the tradition. If not, you may carry on as usual for the next 40 days past Fat Tuesday.

Happy Mardi Gras! Thanks for stopping by, paying me a visit, and for your continued support.

The following is a shorter and more recent (1978) version of the Hippy Dippy Weatherman. Caution: vulgar in one spot.

About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at Lulu.com.
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