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You can have him, New York.
We'll even help pack his bags.
But all sales are final.
Because - like a lost stray begging for affection that turns into a nightmare once you welcome it into your home - you'll soon see that our very own Rod Blagojevich is nothing but a swamp creature you will regret ever coming across.
"People seem to like me here," Blago told the New Yorker's David Remnick. "No 'f you!' or 'Yo, F off!' like you get some places."
(At least not to his face, Gawker retorts.)
New York, we're disappointed in you.
Or maybe Blago just isn't big enough to waste your disdain on.
But when he says "Maybe I should be a New Yorker," you should get at least a little nervous.
And to hawk his fictional memoir.
At least New Yorkers seem to be catching on.
"For febrile self-defensiveness and look-over-there deflections and deceptions, Rod Blagojevich’s new book, The Governor: Finally, the Truth Behind the Political Scandal That Continues to Rock the Nation, is surely unsurpassed," Remnick writes.
See, Rod, they don't like you there either.
They just have more important people to tell off to their faces.