A suicide mission for the Yankiverse: Let's elect the disgraceful, horrible A-Rod to the 2015 All-Star Game

Imagine the boos. They fill Cinncinati. Shoot, they'll probably echo all the way to Cleveland.

Alex Rodriguez would be the hottest poker shoved up Cincy's wazoo since Robert Mapplethorpe printed pictures of - well - hot pokers and wazoos.

Imagine the hysterics... Mike Lupica would be incensed. Bob Costas would cry. Curt Schilling - dear God - he'd pop a gonad and refuse to take part in the broadcast. The game would demean the pristine, Redsockian America that Curt so cherishes. A known liar and cheat would have been voted to the All-Star game by, ugh, voters - yes, the same bootless and unhorsed thugs who put Comrade Barack in the White House, the ones who want to take away guns... simply because that national disgrace and bobblehead whipping mule, A-Rod, somehow returned with a pair of surgically reconstructed hips, pushing age 40, and can hit.

Imagine A-Rod in - ugh, Calgon Bath Beads, take me away - the All-Star Game.

O, the humanity.

My guess is when the MLB All-Star ballots soon come out, the name Alex Rodriguez won't be on them. The lords of the game - aka, the best arguments ever assembled for higher estate taxes - will claim it was an honest mistake: They read Bill Madden's columns and were assured that Alex would never again play for the Yankees.

But what if the collective power of the Yankiverse - an "empire" than might be quiet over the next few Octobers - somehow voted A-Rod onto the team?

Don't get me wrong. He'd have to earn it. Nobody will vote him anything without at least 20 HRs and 50 RBIs by late June. But by jove, Alex is doing it, the world is astonished, his critics are sweating, and folks... it might soon be time for us to make a stand.

The  2015 All-Star Game.
Vote: An A-Bomb from A-Rod.