There is so much compressed sadness in this one tweet that I think we can now upgrade Jose Canseco from professional sad sack to existential hero. I mean, at this point would you be at all surprised if his next tweet were, "woke up from uneazy dreams now ima bug ,help"?

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This one is especially poignant. It's all there, a whole story in just 131 characters, a sort of "For sale: baby shoes, never worn," except with more spray tan. We have a villain, an unreliable narrator, the sad drama of a man clinging desperately to lost tokens of status. We have freaking "chandeleers." I know this book. I've read this book. Jose Canseco is what you'd get if you pumped Edith Wharton full of Deca and threw her in a mesh shirt.

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