A-Rod Haters Juiced with HGH (Hardened Glaring Hypocrisy)

Hypocrisy is a fashionable vice, and all fashionable vices pass for virtue.—Moliere

I am the proud owner of a blue iPod mini that I received as a Christmas present in 2004. Now every time I use it, I feel like Josh Baskin toiling away on his turn-of-the-century Macintosh. The reason for this being that I’m reluctant to invest in a new iPod until I know for sure that an even better one won’t hit the shelves 40 minutes later. 

Similarly, I’ve been biting my tongue on the almost comical sequence of Yankees plights because I know it’s only a matter of time before a new chapter is added to the ever-growing anthology of controversy.

Seeing as in the last month, the Yankees have been seated in steroid use, an unflattering tell-all from their ex-skipper, and financial scam victimization, I’m feeling confident that there are not a lot of available scandals left that can plague them. 

This means I can take advantage of this media respite to express my disapprobation at the Holy Grail of baseball stories.

(Actually, I was just waiting for A-Rod to get to the second half of his sentence before I started writing.)

Although some have lambasted A-Rod’s inexplicable self-imposed insistence on digging the biggest hole in the history of life, I for one was grateful for his unerring aversion to lucid articulation.

When A-Rod’s pregnant pause turned out to be of the Nadya Suleman persuasion, I was appreciably thankful for the bought time. The 791 minutes (or ~37 seconds) in between addressing his teammates and thanking them afforded me the opportunity to do my taxes, catch up on some correspondence, and establish democracy in a third world country. 

Not to mention that A-Rod’s second foray into the art of making absolutely no sense at all, ensured at least another four days of media frenzy, which meant that my first chance to weigh in on the story isn’t falling squarely in the “old news” depot. So again, thanks, Alex. 

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