The Critical Asshole: Listening to...

This past Saturday, Sports Illustrated reported that Alex Rodriguez had tested positive for anabolic steroids in 2003. “A-roid” has now admitted to using performance-enhancing drugs while playing with the Texas Rangers from 2001 to 2003 saying:

When I arrived in Texas in 2001, I felt an enormous amount of pressure, felt all the weight of the world on top of me to perform and perform at a high level every day. Back then, it was a different culture. It was very loose. I was young, I was stupid, I was naive and I wanted to prove to everyone that I was worth, you know, being one of the greatest players of all time. And I did take a banned substance. For that, I’m very sorry and deeply regretful. And although it was the culture back then in major league baseball overall … it was very … I just feel that … I’m just sorry. I’m sorry for that time, I’m sorry to my fans, I’m sorry to my fans in Texas. It wasn’t until then that I thought about substance of any kind, and since then I’ve proved to myself and to everyone that I don’t need any of that.

What a Jerk…

As a student of law, one becomes an ardent and vocal supporter of rules. Indeed, it is the foundation for all the things that bring us wealth and prosperity; whether it be order of law, competitive markets, safety in the workplace and on our highways—we all depend on these institutions and the rules and laws that keep them strong.

But there’s always some asshole that just can’t get with the program.

In the grand scheme of it all, I suppose it’s not a big deal. It’s only baseball, right? Who cares if some overpaid jerk cheats his way to the top?

Tell that to all of the people who lost their life savings in the Bernie Madoff-led ponzi scheme. It is a big deal, and the fact that one of baseball’s highest profile players has now admitted to using performance-enhancing drugs further solidifies a new trend in American society: to the cheaters go the spoils of war.

I hate cheaters. I fucking hate them.

People who cut in line, you drivers that drive on the shoulder in a traffic jam, and you old people who make death bed confessions in hopes of salvation, be warned! I’ve got your fucking number.

That said, I did have my girlfriend sneak a box of Junior Mints into the movie this past weekend.

Don’t judge me.