Arsenal America

In a continuing effort to keep all Arsenal America readers up to date, G. Rex reaches his big, green, fuzzy (especially for a reptile) paw into the mountain of mail to answer selected questions…

Alright, the first one is from Alex “A-Rod” R., from The Bronx, New York. He writes:

Dear G. Rex:
I just moved recently and am having a difficult time adjusting to my new environs. Any advice?
Quizzically, A-Rod

A - if I may call you that, A - please give it a little time. I got this note last fall from this guy “Rio F.” who couldn’t figure out how to whizz in a plastic cup! Remain calm, all is well.

On to the next correspondent, this time it’s Nomar G. - or it could be Nomah, I can’t make out this writing - and he’s from Boston, Mass.

Dear G. Rex:
Do you think this weekend’s rivalry is going to be as big as the tabloids predict?
- Nomah

It should be wicked cool, Nomah. And, when I’m not watching the Gunners, I’ll be sure to tune in the Yanks and Sox.

Okay, our third letter comes from Ledley K., from London N17. Ledley says:

Dear G. Rex:
It seems like baseball players get all the chicks. Is that so, and if so, why?
Signed, Ledley

Ledley, my pal. Let me put it to you this way. A couple of years ago, the Mets and Yankees faced each other in the World Series. Never mind the whole “World” implication of things for now. The captains of the two teams, see, one was seeing Miss Universe, and the other was seeing the Playmate of the Millennium. Do the math.

Our final letter comes from Miss Prunella F., who is, oddly enough, also from London (N17). She writes:

Dear G. Rex:
I’m really sad. My team hasn’t won a decent trophy since before I was born. We’re facing our big rivals this weekend. And, I can’t seem to sabotage the efforts of the Arsenal America crew. Is there any hope?
Sobbingly, Miss Prunella F.

Ah, my dear Miss Face. Oops, I mean Miss F. You are indeed as fair as a spring day. Unfortunately, you’re also about as sharp as a bowling ball. Please stay on your meds, and say Hi to your sister Ophelia for me.

Well, that’s all the time we have for now, folks. Until next time, this is me, your friend, G. Rex, signing off.

Please note: due to the volume of mail received, G. Rex cannot guarantee either publication of or personal reply to your letters. Nor can he guarantee that they all ain’t made up, either.