Let’s create more, not fewer, Lance Armstrongs. It’s the new American way!

I come this day to the express my deduction that sports teams, coaches, and athletes ought be delighted to sponsor and consume super-drug mélanges intended to make them break records, win championships, competitions, and represent corporate sports more electrically.  Frankly I am fed up with athletes who win “by a hair” or “by luck” or by “responsible training”.

My impression is that Lance Armstrong is in far superior shape than most men his age, and if he isn’t I am sure the accessible Wizards of Macho can continue their research and produce drugs and other things mysterious that will fashion us all into super-jocks in a dollar-prescribed short time.

I am not so flabbergasted and angry as many media moguls and talking heads seem to be this week – all but crucifying Lance Armstrong for divulging to Oprah Winfrey that he has supplemented his talents with drugs, lied about this again and yet again, and hovered over his underlings like a voracious hawk on two wheels.

Yesterday, I heard one vomitator call Armstrong’s interview with the dowager of daytime “proof that Armstrong is a sociopath”. Yet if this is true, then what might we say about Jamie Diamond, or Dick Cheney, or other former and extant unindicted co-conspirators who have caused far more pandemonium than has Mr. Armstrong. They used and continue to use other drugs, the kinds that the brain produces when big-time greed pays off or when armies march and slaughter under one’s instructions.

To be honest I treasured riding my bike when I was a kid. It took me all over my suburban Long Island neighborhood. It helped me distribute newspapers – my first job, and on one occasion, allowed me to run – I mean “roll” away from home, when I was nine, all the way to my adored Aunt Terry’s loving embrace 30 miles away in Rego Park, New York.