Whenever Paul Konerko feels like dancing, he can dance without the trouble of having that little voice in the back of his head yelling, “Wait, Paulie. Don’t. The reporters will have a field day!” What reporters? he asks the imaginary censor. When no reply comes, Mr. Konerko can continue dancing. As hard as he wants to. And, judging by the perspiration and focused eyes, it’s mighty hard.

Ozzie Guillen’s superpower—the ability to suppress or elongate his goatee at will—will never be noticed, allowing him to continue his offseason employment as member of the Justice League of Venezuela.

Upon seeing Tom Cruise’s verbal smackdown of psychiatry / Ritalin / Matt Lauer, Carl Everett has the freedom to outspokenly agree with every one of his points (especially those regarding that continuously cross-legged, dinosaur-believing bastard Lauer) without having to feel the same repercussions.

While America continues to think Frank Thomas is still on the DL, he can continue to advance the all-time home-run list without a Bondsesque circus. Also: When he does get the occasional day off, he can wear his sexy short shorts.

Scott Podsednik’s robotically enhanced speed remains undiscovered, stalling the inevitable rule that will ban robotically enhanced speed for at least another seven years.

While massive media saturation would help Tadahito Iguchi score more of the prime chicks at the South Side bars, a nickname like The Gooch does him just fine.

Knowing the eventual onslaught of television exposure once he wins the AL Cy Young, Mark Buehrle is able to just sit back, relax, and pursue some of the greater pleasures in life: trout fishing, plucking some banjo strings on his rocking chair, and loudly ordering massive steaks in hippie-frequented restaurants.

Dustin Hermanson can get as many goddamn tickets for blowing those fucking pointless stop signs as he wants.

Being seen lip-synching into a bat to the latest Mariah Carey album is never a worry in Joe Crede’s mind.

Mr. Zero can continue sucking and no one cares. This, though, has more to do with his cute confusion due to the more minute aspects of American culture than lack of media attention.

Sure, he’s worried a bit about the release of War of the Worlds (every space-alien film—especially the ones where the aliens attack—scares him), but that doesn’t stop Aaron Rowand from his continuing infiltration of human society.