The smell of hot dogs, the roar of the crowd, the crack of the bat… and now, my friends, the gentle rustle of complimentary tampons in men’s bathrooms.

Yes. The New York Yankees are the first team in Major League Baseball to snag themselves a tampon partner. Together, they’ve decided that equality isn’t just for the diamond. It’s for the urinals too. While the official press releases speak of “feminine hygiene products” in the women’s restrooms (all very thoughtful, very progressive), the chatter from the stands and the airwaves tells us that tampons are now available in every men’s bathroom at the Stadium. Free of charge. No questions asked. Just reach in, grab one, and… well, what exactly?

Stare with me into the abyss of corporate wokeness and see it stare back unblinkingly back wearing a baseball cap.

Is this the final boss level of woke corporatism untethering itself completely from the common man? Have we reached the point where biological reality is so ignored that we must prepare men for their monthly cycle?

Imagine for me if you will the scene in the bathroom during the seventh-inning stretch of a blowout game. Burly construction workers, finance bros, and die-hard fans who’ve painted their faces have been drinking for seven innings and are suddenly confronted with a dispenser of tampons.

This will not end well. I guarantee you these feminine products will be used as projectiles, weapons, decorations, or costume jewelry in the near future.

This is the epitome of wrongheaded virtue signaling. The Yankees, that bastion of tradition (or what’s left of it), partnering up with a tampon company to make sure no one feels “excluded” from the menstrual experience.

It’s the same old script, isn’t it? The one where common sense is sacrificed on the altar of ideology. Where “inclusivity” means rewriting the rules of nature so that feelings trump follicles, chromosomes, and the simple plumbing we were all issued at birth. Men don’t need tampons in their bathrooms any more than they need a lactation station or a maternity ward. Women do need access to these things in theirs, especially in a massive venue packed with fans. But blurring the lines until the signs on the doors become meaningless? That’s not progress. That’s confusion dressed up as compassion.

And the crowd? Some will cheer it as “evolving.” Others will scratch their heads and mutter about the good old days when baseball was about strikes, not social engineering. Me? I see the pattern.

Wake up, Yankees fans. This isn’t about hygiene. It’s about the quiet conquest of reality by those who profit from pretending it doesn’t exist. In the house that Ruth built, they’re now building something far stranger: a monument to the idea that biology is optional, and dissent is foul territory.

So swing away, lads. But mind the dispenser on your way out. And remember that in a world gone mad, sometimes the most revolutionary act is simply calling a tampon a tampon… and a men’s bathroom a men’s bathroom.

Stay free, my friends. Stay awake. And for the love of DiMaggio, keep it real.

And you wonder why so many people have come stumbling into the Catholic Church. The world has turned on them. The world says, “don’t believe your eyes. Don’t believe that voice in your head. Listen to your corporate and political overlords.” So in a world where everything is subjective, people come looking for solid ground. And that is the Church founded by Christ himself. The wackier the world becomes, the more the Church’s rootedness in 2,000 years of tradition and truth stands out. The more upside down the world becomes the more right side up the Church will seem. So, woke on, boys. Tampon up. The Church will be waiting.