Known for their juicy scoops on all matters of the boudoir, Cosmopolitan magazine is definitely not your grandma’s Good Housekeeping. Yet, as an avid reader of numerous Cosmo articles outline dirty, scandalous and often even seemingly painful bits of sexual advice in all of their nympho glory, for the first time I have read something in an issue that truly offended me. Cosmo named A-Roid as their Bachelor of the Year. EXCUSE ME?
Get out of town, Cosmo. I don’t care if he was the best looking man on earth (which, I must point out, he is NOT … not by a long shot) OR that he is a phenomenal baseball player. The guy is a douchey, pompous, creepster who is poisonous to everything he touches.
I’m sorry, did anyone else forget about that long period of steroid use he continuously lied about until finally being caught red handed? Or what about the demise of his 6-year marriage? Oh, yea, that was caused by extramarital affairs with STRIPPERS and PROSTITUTES, wasn’t it? For the love of fake double D’s, he used a damn call-girl agency! Hmmm … Interesting. If you are the top-paid baseball player in history and you need to use a sleazy call-girl service to get serviced, I would say that only screams one thing (and it’s not your name, evidently): PATHETIC.
I don’t think the nickname “The Cooler” comes from nowhere. Teams turn cold when he joins and hot when he leaves … and isn’t Cosmo’s “expertise” supposed to give the opposite effects on groups of young, sexy men? Again: hmmm… interesting.
Dear Cosmo,
Get your poop in a group and your head out of your ass: A-Roid is still a D-Bag.
Love,
Kfisch
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