so today is my last day of work in the insurance industry before i retire (seriously), so why not burn out by doing a trifle bit of blogging?
right, then. if i were a close friend of alex rodriguez, my name would be Madonna. and as Madonna, i would make sure to keep alex away from razor blades, sleeping pills, and nooses, because a man can only take so much abuse before he gives in and kicks the chair. it's not that he's going to scan Lupica's article here (which, like all of Lupica's articles, reads like a fifth grader's book report, except without shitty hand-drawn pictures of the characters), polish a pistol, and swallow a bullet. i hope he's learned to insulate himself from the media since his move to the Bronx. i mean, clearly the man knows how to handle himself with aplomb whilst in the camera's eye (joking), so i can only imagine he's not riding home on the subway reading the Daily News. (actually, can't you just imagine A-rod going home, asking his butler for a grape popsicle and today's issues of the tabloids, laying belly down on a canopy bed fretting over the stories about himself? kind of like a 13-year old girl reading about the Jonas brothers, only a lot more whining and squealing.)
seriously though - i'm sure A-Rod ignores the tabloids. but how do you ignore 55,058 jerks booing you mercilessly while just 25 feet to your left stands a man insulated from any sort of adversity, despite the fact he is OPS+'ing 56 points lower than you, isn't banging hot shemale strippers, and has "Sanderson" for a middle name? sure, A-Rod gets paid the most, says the dumbest things, and has that annoying "best player in the game and maybe in history" collar around his neck, but i'm sure he's asking himself every single day of his life, "is it really fucking worth it?"
i genuinely feel sorry for the man.
