Monday, January 11, 2010
I am shocked and disappointed. Mark McGwire has admitted (sobbing and sniffing) to using steroids. And I believed his denials. Uh, fuck NO I didn't. At his zenith, he looked like a red-headed Paul Bunyon. Like he was about to burst. All he needed was a giant blue ox for a side-kick. Actually, I just went back to read the entire article as I figured if I'm going to babble about something I may as well be informed and the writer ALSO referred to MM as having a "Paul Bunyon-like physique". Great minds think of similar descriptions for juiced up dudes. I actually have no problem with choices people make in their personal lives that affect only their own bodies. I guess if I was an athlete (rather than a mathlete.....that's my gig.....), and the playing field was not level because the majority of my contemporaries were taking advantage of a performance enhancing substance, I would do what I needed to do. Women do it all the time to a lesser degree. You see me walking around with gray hair? No. No ya don't. I'm not gonna sit there lookin' like shit when there's something I can do to combat nature. I don't want to look like an old bag amongst all of my friends who are taking measures in an attempt to up their currency by looking their best. Unfortunately, looks matter. Just about everybody I know is "enhanced" in some way, surgically, cosmetically, etc. People in all walks of life seek to enhance themselves or their performance through a variety of means. My beef is simply with the denials in the face of the completely obvious. I guess McGwire didn't technically deny his juice-use.......he just didn't answer the questions when they were posed to him several years ago. I clearly remember sitting there looking at the guy and thinking, "Are you kidding me? You really think we have any doubt in our minds?" So no, I was actually NOT shocked. And as another imperfect soul, I genuinely feel bad for him. I know sure as hell would not want to stand up in front of the God and all creation and admit to what gets poured into my body. Granted, it's just alcohol. In recreational doses. I'm not walking around with a flask in my bathrobe or anything. But does the WORLD need to know that I like to get my party on (at completely appropriate times of course)? Oh wait.........maybe I should just refuse to answer the questions if I'm every hauled in front of a grand jury and asked if I'm a booze-hound. Think anybody would be surprised when I tearfully admit it years later? Errrrr.......nope. "Sir, how DARE you imply that I was dancing on a table with a lampshade on my head because I was drinking alcohol. You have sullied my snow-white reputation with such drivel!!!!" And that's my point. Denying the writing on the wall is pretty pointless. It if looks like a duck and quacks like a duck.......you get the point.