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A message for the kids (or Why ballplayers make bad role models)

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When I was growing up, like many of my peers, I collected baseball cards. I admired the men on these cards and I did what I could to look like them. I desperately wanted to be like my favorite players: Mark McGwire, Barry Bonds and the great Jose "the Chemist" Canseco.

So I took me some of the steroids.

Now, in my later years, all I have to show for my three years of hard hitting steroid abuse is a pair of gigantically muscular calves, one and a half shrunken testicles, and an 8 3/4 hat size.

This is why I want you kids to read about the AMA looking to limit indoor tanning among minors. That's right, boys and girls. That's the American Medical Associ-freakin'-ation. That's some poop you don't mess with. I don't care how much you want to look like Brian Giles.

I know what you're thinking. But Brian Giles is my favorite Padre. I just got my tips frosted and now I'm gonna get a tan. Fine, you want to ignore me and the American Medical Association? Go right ahead. But don't come running back to this blog later when you're all leathery and wrinkled and people have started calling you names like "Leatherbutt" and "Honeybaked Ham Hands" and "Wise Ancient Shaman from the Desert". Because you've been warned.

Crazy kids never know what's good for them.