The Bud Selig Experience

"The 'Bud Selig Experience?' What the f**k is that?" - Kirby Lee-USA TODAY Sports

You may or may not have heard that Miller Park is going to dedicate a portion of stadium space to a new exhibit known, and I shit you not, as the "Bud Selig Experience." According to Tom Haudricourt of the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel, the exhibit will feature a "multimedia show" culminating in "a 3D encounter with the commissioner himself inside an authentic reproduction of Selig’s County Stadium office, using a technology found in only a handful of exhibits around the world. After the show, Milwaukee fans will be delighted to take a sneak peek into Selig’s office for themselves."

I, for one, am rather disappointed by this news on two fronts. For one thing, I always assumed our sisters and brothers to the immediate east were vaguely rational human beings, much like ourselves, albeit slightly less awesome. If "Milwaukee fans will be delighted to take a sneak peek into Selig's office for themselves," I guess they really do deserve Paul Ryan (we only deserve his cousin, Terry.)

And I'm also disappointed because a mere 3D meeting with our sainted Commish barely taps last dregs from the keg of imagination. Given the opportunity to involve worshippers in what Being Selig was truly, viscerally about, there are so many other avenues of "Black Mirror"-ish virtual reality which could be explored. Here are some I quickly imagined.


Visitors can FEEL Selig's stale, putrid breath down their necks and the HEART-POUNDING RISK of gouging stadium subsidies despite massive public preference that owners pay for facilities themselves! SHOOT DOWN those pesky local initiatives or state laws requiring voter approval! WRITE YOUR OWN sycophantic sports column describing how old buildings make your town UNAPPEALING TO OUTSIDERS! Get PUMPED UP by final victory and that INSPIRING first-shovel photo-op!* (*Some features unavailable to visitors from Montreal)


Witness the excitement when every single MLB team makes it to the playoffs, and the regular season loses all meaning or purpose, except wondering who'll get injured and watching half-naked chicks dance.


You don't have to wait for the future when the future is here today! Watch how amazing the future will be when each baseball micro-second is subject to replay review! Games will last a mesmerizing twelve hours, fun for couch potatoes of all male ages between 15-34 who are slightly drunk at home, or fans in the stadium who can only tolerate this tedium by being so dangerously drunk that children are scarred forever by the trauma!


Try to copy the World Cup! Fail miserably! Change the rules of pilfering Asian players so that greedy team owners in Asia get an asston of money for selling off stars and the players far less, degrading decades of dedicated Asian baseball fans into MLB's next minor league! Keep exploiting the Dominican Republic as though hopefuls who play there are subhuman! Hey, they speak Spanish, we can treat them like shit and it EXPANDS THE BRAND!


Enjoy the game "Sim City"? Now you can play "Whim City," where the wishes of baseball owners drain essential bond money from your local tax base. Decide what to cut, be it school funding, support for the old/disabled, infrastructure repair. Note: this video game will prove especially frustrating, since as in the "Kobayashi Maru" test, you can't win. Even if you cheat and think you've won, another team will get another building eventually and you'll be further fucked. Enjoy the bit where all your blocks are on fire and Godzilla stomps the city. That was always my favorite part of "Sim City." (Visitors from Miami are charged an extra fee to play this game; all proceeds donated to building the upcoming "Jeffrey Loria Experience.")


Listen to an endless stream of Chris Berman shouting "backbackback" as you sense the power of steroids running through your veins and cash winding up in your boss's pockets. Mist sprayed through ceiling tubes includes psychoactive drugs which make you feel invincible, then angry, then impotent, then humiliated as your bosses parade you before Congressional investigators for doing exactly what your bosses wanted. One in ten participants gets a free ticket to the next time most-of-R.EM. plays "Broken Man" live in your town. The millionth visitor meets the ghost of Curt Flood, who sings "Gratitude" with most-of-R.E.M. and tells Selig to ginormously go fuck himself.


Select from a number of options and discover, "Choose Your Own Adventure"-style, what the repercussions would be. How do you make people forget what a dick you were by calling the game? You can apologize and admit being a dick (consequence; people hate baseball forever, and the world ends, and you die.) You can make the All-Star game less boring by tweaking the roster selection, say, by having it be a World-vs.-US game (like hockey), or having team captains select players (like hockey), or eliminating some dumb All-Star events like the Home Run Derby, or a million other different options that would made the All-Star game not suck (consequence; people hate baseball forever, world ends, you die.) You can boost already inflated All-Star rosters and make the winning league a home team in every World Series due to a dullish exhibition game (consequence; everyone loves baseball, global warming is halted, you kiss a girl.)


This one isn't really high-tech. You stand in front of a green screen and see your face with a horrid haircut. The same schtick is used at rotten, money-sucking "interactive" exhibits nationwide, including that awful "Star Trek" exhibit at the MOA where you can pony up extra cheddar for looking like a Klingon. "Selig Experince" puts a twist on it; you aren't restricted to Selig's horrid haircut. You can select from a number of options. Pathetic men who imagine themselves great are often proud of their repugnant hirsute appearance. It's a way of announcing "I don't have to even try and be presentable; you will bow down before me anyways." Stand in front of the green screen, pay for the picture, and you can get a crummy printout featuring yourself in Selig's signature do. Or, if you so choose, Donald Trump's. Bill Gates's. Napoleon's, Bin Laden's, Hitler's, lots of options here. Being aggressively hideous with your head follicles is a sign of true dominance. Make sure you check it out, before you exit through the gift shop.