Looney Tunes best describes the final chapter for Anthony Davis in New Orleans

Anthony Davis is wearing a shirt reading "That's All Folks!" to the arena in what is likely his last game with the Pelicans 🙃 pic.twitter.com/dN5a0OTwsi

— Sports Illustrated (@SInow) April 9, 2019

As we age, we always yearn for “the good old days.”

Whether it is music (give me progressive rock, melodic pop, Motown), theater or television, we tend to flashback to a more innocent age.

While I enjoyed The Flintstones, The Jetsons and many other cartoons, the franchise known as Merrie Melodies was unquestionably the best era of cartoons ever produced with the best, lasting characters in the genre.

The tunes being played by the New Orleans Pelicans presently have gone sour. They may turn sweet again soon. Hope springs eternal.

The end of an era in New Orleans for Anthony Davis turned out to be an error, in baseball terminology. In the tradition of Pepe’ Le Pew, something stinks and it isn’t the nearest landfill or chemical plant.

Davis wanted to depart as fast as Speedy Gonzales. Instead, he watched as the process to relocate moved at the pace of Cecil Turtle without a turbo booster.

That left all observers to beg the eternal Bugs Bunny question of “What’s up, Doc?”

Davis has become the “wascally wabbit” of Elmer Fudd fame.

Davis got bad advice and created a bad situation for everyone with his mid-season decision to ask for a trade and his totally botched attempt to force a deal to the Lakers.

Who in the world wants to play for the Lakers, given their state of affairs?

LeBron James is running the show, he is not getting any younger and young players have no idea whether they will even be around next season. A guy named Rich Paul is hovering in the shadows, helping pull the strings. Apparently, those strings got tangled this year.

After all, the Lakers tried to trade a boatload of them to the Pelicans.

A guy named Magic performed anything but his nickname running the organization and abruptly quit so he can concentrate on tampering with the Dodgers. He did not even bother to tell his owner first before smiling for the cameras while talking about shedding tears.

While there is some young talent on hand, it is not that formidable. That’s why the other L.A. tried to pawn those pieces off to this LA.

The 504 refused to accept the offer, holding out for more while holding out for someone new to make the art of the deal and make the Pelicans great for the first time. That was a wise move.

Now, presumably, suitors will line up to take their best shot at AD by making their best offer.

Speaking of AD, could you possibly screw up a good thing any more than he has?

By all accounts, Davis has been a model citizen and player in New Orleans.

He has been outstanding in the community, easy to deal with by media standards and a wonderful player who worked hard to improve his game annually.

Then came his decision to sign with Klutch Sports and to cast his lot with James and Rich Paul.

Since then, Davis has become aloof, even somewhat arrogant.

The Coup de gras was his tasteless, bonehead decision to wear a shirt bearing the words “That’s All Folks” to what is most assuredly his final home game at Smoothie King Center. Davis claims he didn’t choose to wear the shirt, that it was hanging for him when he was getting dressed and had no idea who put it there.

That, in itself, explains how Davis just doesn’t get it.

Regardless of who put the shirt there, he chose to wear it. Regardless of who had the idea to demand a trade or else, he chose to carry it out. He bears responsibility.

Davis complained about how he was treated by fans, seriously.

Have you been to a Pelicans game since he created this debacle?

While there were boos originally after his decision, those were reduced quickly to simply a smattering of disgruntled paying customers who were expressing their right to express themselves. Tickets to NBA games do not come cheaply.

If Davis had pulled the same act in Philadelphia, New York, Boston or several other locales, he would have been booed off the court, castigated and showered with unrepeatable one-liners and likely showered by debris.

This is New Orleans. This is The Big Easy. People, by and large, are easy going and generally nice.

They embraced Davis. He embraced New Orleans back for six years. Then came unlucky number seven. The heart of Davis turned to spades as the memory of his impressive double-doubles fades into oblivion.

Davis created some merry melodies here. Then, he attempted to run out of town as fast as the Road Runner. Instead, that movement was more along the lines of Porky Pig, whose line he pilfered while he stole money riding the bench down the stretch of the season and flipping off fans.

That came after he left Smoothie King Center in the middle of a huge upset win over Oklahoma City, doing so with a minor shoulder injury. What a teammate!

The decision by Davis came on the advice of a guy whose famous decision years ago to depart Cleveland for Miami was roundly panned.

As Foghorn Leghorn once stated, “that boy’s more mixed up than a feather in a whirlwind.”

In the end, Davis left New Orleans “sufferin succotash,” in the words of Sylvester. He tore up the Pelicans’ season, shredding it in a way that The Tasmanian Devil would be proud of.

Sylvester is still trying to catch Tweedy Bird. Wile E. Coyote is still trying to catch The Road Runner. Davis and the Pelicans are still trying to catch lightning in a bottle and to become a genuine contender in the tough Western conference.

In the end, the actions of Davis led to the firing of Dell Demps, though Demps was well on his way to exiting stage right. It likely led to the dismissal of Alvin Gentry, a journeyman coach but a good man who handled an incredibly difficult, virtually impossible situation extremely well.

We all like Anthony Davis. Gentry correctly stated that he is a good young man, a terrific player who simply got bad advice. He is a great player.

Still, he is a billionaire who bears responsibility for his actions. He made the decision, not Paul or James, who basically told the Pelicans to “say your prayers, varmint,” pointing their weapons in Yosemite Sam fashion at New Orleans in a “do it or else scenario.”

In the end, Davis will finally flay away in Tweedy Bird fashion. As for his actions of how Davis handled his final bow in New Orleans, the words of Daffy Duck come to mind.

“You’re despicable.”