Okay, so I just sent off another chapter to the man for review, thus it's time to unwind for a few minutes and read the headlines...

oh wait, what's this, Marion Jones took steroids?  WTF?  Holy crap dude, what a shocker, this is an outrage!

Umm, yeah.  I'm all in favor of the principle of innocence, but anyone with a functioning brain stem knew that she wasn't clean.  And now, just because she finally pled guilty today to lying to the Fed, it's the front page headline on  sheesh.

More generally, though, this brings us to the sad state of pro sports.  Bill Simmons commented on how Bret Fah-vre's "magical" recovery could be drawing a lot of attention if he weren't Bret Favre, and I was thinking today about how I couldn't really be surprised if Jorge I-look-like-a-turtle-or-is-it-a-penis-instead-? Posada was juicing (he hit 100 points higher this year, and that's weird for an old catcher).  Similarly, when word got out that Rich Ankiel used HGH my response wasn't shock, just "huh, yeah, that makes sense."

And maybe, that last bit, that I'm not shocked or upset, is the saddest part of all.

On the other hand, I'm pleased by the thought I had yesterday - "huh, I just realized that Hank Aaron and 755 isn't the record anymore".  That means I've done a good job of repressing the last 3 years of Barry Bonds' existence, which I'm sure would make Bud Selig dance with glee.  Ugh, now I feel dirty and used.

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