No, the people whom he abused and StrongArmed - get it? - blew the whistle on him. The bullying victims, his friends, his teammates, his fellow racers, finally stood up to this worthless piece of shit and started swinging back. Like any schoolyard bully, he had no defense but to roll over and play humble. For money. Anyone who thinks that Oprah didn't lay out a packet for this polished turd has unicorns for house pets. (They poop rainbows, you know.)
We make people like Lance Armstrong and Oprah Fucking Winfrey possible. We pay their way by being less than critical of the crimes they commit, the errors of omission the hurl at us, the sly winks they exchange with one other. We allow the collective media to elevate their status from bike racer to god, from talk-show hack to media goddess. Meanwhile, we think it's okay to debate whether certain gun-control measures are too draconian in nature to save just one six-year-old from a future death at the hands of a nutcase with voices in his head.
This is your fault. This my fault.
Every time someone tells you how fucking hilarious Honey Boo-Boo is, turn and walk away. Never speak to them again until their therapy has rendered them once-again human. Every time someone says that they don't read and poetry is for sissies, walk away. Every time you hear someone express the opinion that art is less important than commerce, run like hell. Every time you hear someone say that they have an absolute right to anything - unlimited access to assault weapons, free speech at any cost, expression at the expense of those who cannot express themselves, consider a change of venue to a more advanced country than the one in which we now find ourselves locked away. Any time you hear some blowhard gasbag go on about how "those people" should pull themselves up by their own bootstraps and that we should "let the markets decide", it's perfectly acceptable to douse them with ice-cold water. Then do what you will with them. Tell them you're the market and that you've decided.
Any time you find yourself thinking that someone, anyone, is deserving of media attention for doing things that you yourself could do with the meager gifts of genetics, training and inspiration or the dint of a privileged birth, hang your head in shame. The least of us is more honestly deserving than the best of them.
Thus spake the rabbit.