Everything about King Cake Baby — the always-watching eyes, the airbrushed bib, the scooter-enabled mobility and perhaps most especially the evidently-ready-to-come-off-at-a-moment's-notice diaper — is deeply, deeply unsettling. It boggles the mind that the Hornets/Pelicans would create mascots as disturbing as King Cake Baby and Pierre by sheer happenstance, which leads me to believe that the New Orleans professional basketball franchise is doing its level best to increase its market share in the one area no other team — well, except for the Heat and Thunder when LeBron and Durant are cooking, I guess — can really occupy.
The Pelicans aim to become the No. 1 team in your nightmarescape, America. Move over, Freddy Krueger. King Cake Baby's hungry.
All we can say is: The plastic surgeons who turned the once-fearsome Pierre into a Pelican version of a Kardashian better keep their surgical gloves off King Cake Baby. He's terrifying. He's ours. He's New Orleans in a diaper.