Dear Sammy Sosa, You Look Like A Vampire
I’m sure by now, you’ve seen a picture of the new and (not so) improved Sammy Sosa. It has more than earned this week’s sternly-worded letter.
Dear Sammy Sosa,
What in the name of all that is good, holy and sanctified are you doing? Who died and had you replicated as their phantom? You look like a body that drowned, 2-hour post mortem. Looking like an extra from the “Thriller” vidjo. Or maybe the body double for the chick in the “Exorcist.” Your mug has made its way into haunting my hope and dreams, and the unicorn that typically protects them ran away when it saw you.
Why do you think it’s okay to look like Casper Garcia, the Dominican Ghost? You don’t e’em gotta say “BOOO” to scare anyone. I definitely wanna throw some holy water on you and scream “The power of Christ compels you! EEK!
Ok I ain’t gon say nothing about his jheri curl from the farthest left. Nor am I gon mention his teenage-like pizza acne face. I won’t. He looked decent in the middle there. He may have gotten a wink from me. The right: iCan’t. I just CANNOT.
When did you start looking like the Ghost of FAIL Past, Present and Future? No, really. I’m curious. How did you go from a chocolate, decent looking fella to this pasty, white-ish ghoul? I just don’t understand. I saw your face and did a *CHAIR SLIDE* unto the floor. That is how alarming it was.
What happened, Sammy? What made you decide that you didn’t like the chocolate drop that you were? Light ain’t always right! You’ve been messing with some bleaching cream, ain’t ya? Step AWAY from the bleaching cream. It ain’t worf it, Mr. Sosa. It ain’t worf it. Who mixed up this concoction? They don’t wish you well. What was in it, clorox? Jeebs be some protection against skin cancer for you because you clearly gon’ need it.
Then to make matters worse, you got gray colored contacts, knowing DAMN well the good LAWD ain’t give you them naturally. Like the skim milk-colored epidermis didn’t make you look enough of a fool. Yet and still, you weren’t done. To add insult to injury, you got your fresh relaxer touchup going. Your perm is fried, died, laid to the side and greezed up. That is what I like to call a “Slicky Ricky.”
Between all those and your past steroid use, you got more chemicals in or on your body than Chernobyl. I’m surprised your whole self hasn’t melted to the ground in a Lye accident. All for what? To look like look like you got on whiteface (if such a thing was so exist)? Lighter eyes, lighter skin and uber straight hair.
iCan’t with you or anybody who endorses your foolishness, including your wife. You need a “FOOL SADDOWN” gift basket with a “Quit EVERYTHING” coupon code. Going from a potential baseball hall of famer, to being publicly embarassed for cheating and possible steroid use to… this. You’ve FAILED.
Self-hate is a bitch, ain’t it? Looking like you inhabit Transylvania and survives on a diet of neck blood. NO SIR!
Yours in side-eye dom O__o and scariness,
P.S. If you didn’t actually bleach your skin and this is a medical condition out of your control, forget I wrote this letter. And act like it said “Sorry to hear about you having *INSERT MEDICAL TERM HERE*.” And also, I’ll need you to cosign the letter of forgiveness I’d have to send the Big Guy Upstairs. This is all IF you didn’t bleach.