Editor’s Note: By a lucky
coincidence, Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps’ problems with the tabloid
newspaper that caught him playing around with a bong (and, presumably, smoking
pot) were overshadowed by the breaking sports news that New York Yankee
superstar Alex Rodriguez had been cheating at his sport for years by taking
performance-enhancing drugs, while self-righteously lying about it. (He actually
continued lying even during his confession, so he clearly has no shame at all.)
In contrast, I see Phelps’ activity as a “victimless crime,” hence, no
crime at all. In a nation full of baby boomers who’ve smoked enough herb to
fill the Grand Canyon during the past 40 years, the shocked dismay expressed by
many in the media that Phelps might have also smoked some pot just seems silly
and hypocritical. It’s nobody’s business what he does in his spare time, as
long as he’s not hurting anyone or cheating at his sport.
Pointless
Apologies for Victimless Crimes
American
men learn early to apologize, whether we think we’ve done anything wrong or
not. Any husband married longer than 10 days knows he’s required to do this
often, even if he has no clue why.
Women
demand contrition, even after we’ve denied any wrongdoing, made it clear we
aren’t sorry and guaranteed that the apology they’re about to receive is
completely insincere. It’s all part of that feminine mystique we men find so
irresistible.
Recently,
like the good family man he is, President Obama took the blame for the botched
Tom Daschle appointment. The president himself had done nothing wrong: His staff
did a poor job vetting the ex-senator, and, as a tax cheat, Daschle himself
should have apologized for allowing his name to be advanced. And, facing an
economy ravaged by conservative fiscal policies and two dangerous wars, Mr.
Obama presumably has more important things on his mind than Tom Daschle’s
limousine arrangements.
Regardless,
the president’s mea culpa was well-received, even among some Republicans.
Maybe it’s the contrast with the previous presidential/vice presidential
junta, which never acknowledged any mistakes and is now misrepresenting its
legacy as something other than a national disaster.
 |
|
Meanwhile,
for the relatively trivial indiscretion of being photographed with a bong
attached to his face, swimmer Michael Phelps has been apologizing
continually, although, like Mr. Obama, he has nothing to be contrite
about. Maybe he’s sincerely embarrassed, or perhaps he’s just
protecting his future income streams. (Subway and Kellogg pulled his
endorsement deals before the smoke had even cleared — marijuana is
clearly harmful to one’s health as a salesman.)
Former
pro basketball star Charles Barkley famously and accurately observed,
“I’m no role model,” adding that parents and teachers should be
setting good examples for young people, not athletes. Sometimes, even a
jock gets it right.
To
whom and for what is Phelps apologizing? By publicly becoming associated
with marijuana, he stumbled over a concept that’s both moronic and
oxymoronic — the “victimless crime.” If no one is harmed, then
where’s the crime? And absent a victim, to whom does one owe an apology? |
In
earlier times, victimless crimes were known as “sins.” To control activities
people enjoy — like dancing and sex — primitive puritans classified them as
affronts to God, even though none of us has a clue what, if anything, the
Almighty finds offensive. These days, the sin list is growing mercifully
shorter.
If
Phelps had been photographed with a bottle of Budweiser attached to his lips,
there’d be no scandal, even though alcohol has destroyed millions more
lives than marijuana. Fatty cheeseburgers are more dangerous to the
nation’s health than pot, yet there’d be no outrage if Phelps had been
caught up to his ears in a Big Mac. Without purveyors of junk food and beer
companies, who’d sponsor our sporting events? And who’d pay our role-model
athletes for product endorsements?
|
About 80
million of us baby boomers cavorted through the 60s and now hypocritically
pretend we never smoked pot ourselves or didn’t inhale or didn’t enjoy
it or now regret it terribly, as if that bong stored in the attic were
some sort of medieval torture instrument. It wasn’t as if Phelps
electrocuted dogs (see Michael Vick), obstructed justice in a murder
investigation (see Ray Lewis) or had his pregnant girlfriend murdered (see
Ray Carruth).
Nor did
he cheat his sport with steroids and hormones, like Alex Rodriguez, Jose
Canseco or any other major league ballplayer who batted more than .250
during the past 20 years. Instead, Phelps spent years doing the most
tiresome thing imaginable — swimming endless laps, breathing
chlorine-infused air that probably did more damage to his lungs than the
marijuana he may or may not have inhaled. And if he had smoked pot while
training, that just makes his Olympian achievements all the more Homeric. |
|
 |
Phelps
brought home more gold medals than anyone in Olympic history. That should
entitle him to spend the rest of his life drinking $500 bottles of single-malt
Scotch, smoking Hawaiian cannabis and Cuban cigars (both senselessly illegal),
and dating supermodels two and three at a time, if that’s what makes him
happy. And he shouldn’t need to apologize to anyone.
I
have no idea whether Phelps is genuinely sorry for his victimless crime, or
merely kicking himself for jeopardizing his endorsements by getting caught, like
a husband feigning remorse for sins he’s clueless about. Either way, the
American public should get over it, and be mature enough to realize that Michael
Phelps is moral enough to sell Sugar Frosted Flakes to our nation’s youth.
Click here to return to
the Mark
Drought home page.