The 10 weirdest NBA timeout entertainment spectacles

6. Eventually mascots were going to show up

They’re here. They found us.

What good are mascots? Like, what do they actually do? I know there’s a fondness for Benny the Bull rooted in some bizarre tunnel-of-love tributary of Stockholm Syndrome and the fact that Stanford has a walking Christmas tree is funny, but everything else is more bad than good. Once you get past the initial novelty of “Oh heh look at that madcap wildcat,” everything just seems insidious and perverse.

The Syracuse Orange just shows us what would have happened if Willy Wonka preferred citrus fruit. Lil’ Red from Nebraska is just King Cake Baby’s more well-adjusted cousin. The Charlotte Hornet is a G-rated version of Jeff Goldblum’s failed science experiment. Brutus Buckeye. No.

Now they’re dancing? Or they’re married? Or they’re breaking up marriages to dance with non-animal shaped people? What is the point of this? Who is getting enjoyment out of it? Who is meant to? Am I supposed to be laughing at the people? I don’t want to. I just feel bad.

That poor woman at the end is trying so hard to get away. That’s the way you smile when a blind double date goes wrong in the first 15 seconds.

The typical personality that mascots seem to go for is excitable children’s show supporting character. I got quite a few of those when I was a kid. I’m good.

If that’s not enough, the girl at the end celebrating her Sweet 16 is apparently still in junior high. I guess all those bears are really taking a toll on the American public education system.