Behold: Hester Prynne in the age of network television. The scarlet letter, or something like it, emblazoned on the chest. The private sin dragged forth for public judgment. The hours in the stocks. And the media.
Oh, the media.
"I cheated. This is my punishment." Thus read the hand-lettered, chest-to-knee-length sign worn by a man sporting jeans, a baby-blue short-sleeved dress shirt and a hangdog face as he stood on the side of the eight-lane Leesburg Pike near Tysons Corner on Wednesday morning. Thursday morning, he was back.