No one likes A-Rod anymore, but I feel for him. I'm guessing that before the economic disaster, there were stocks, houses, funds, and other material items that used to be worth a lot. Now they're worth less, some even worthless and/or accruing debts, and no one wants them anymore. In my mind, I picture these former goods crying, discarded and longing for human affection once more. I imagine A-Rod as having similar experiences right now, longing for acceptance, unconditional love, maybe Madonna's affection once more, and human respect.
The
New Yorker took their stab this week:
I expressed my sympathy for A-Rod out loud today, indicating that I'd draft him to my fantasy team even if no one wanted him. Later in the evening, Jenni drew her interpretation of the
New Yorker cover:
I'd totally take him into my class!
I expressed my sympathy for A-Rod out loud today, indicating that I'd draft him to my fantasy team even if no one wanted him. Later in the evening, Jenni drew her interpretation of the New Yorker cover:
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