Of all the human frailties for which Americans harbor
mountainous disdain, lying and cheating achieve the Mount Everest peak. On
Thursday, all eyes will be glued to Lance ‘Liar liar pants on fire’ Armstrong
who will pedal the media cycle for a shot at public redemption. So, when
silence fails, Oprah’s your girl, right?
Dialogue is potent enough to lend reinvention to a company,
brand and career, but in the tainted case of the multiple Tour de France
champion whose performances were accessorized with the continuous spin of doping
denials, rebranding won't be an easy feat.
Admission without authenticity cannot conquer arrogance, which
I suspect swelled due to the medicinal aids that delivered Armstrong athletic
superiority for years. Sure, we love our sports heroes through the thick of
drug addiction, domestic violence, and even manslaughter, but for liars and
cheaters, our tolerance is thin.
If a lying Lance lusts for the limelight to reignite a high-octane
athletic career under the guise of making peace or professing guilt, some will forgive
but few will forget. Why should we be duped into buying what will likely amount
to another Armstrong bag of damaged goods? Fool me once, shame on you; fool me
twice, shame on me.
The charitable cancer foundation contributions aside, the
once popular yellow bracelets hailing “Live Strong” have left the duplicitous
message that only the weak cheat. Yet, like you, I’ll tune in not to endorse
the scoundrel, who on countless occasion manipulatively violated our trust, but
because it’s Oprah, still the reigning queen of talk TV.
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