It has been a rough couple of weeks for Generation Fraud.
Our baseball idols -- Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire -- were denied entrance into the National Baseball Hall of Fame, a repudiation of our childhood memories.
And now our messiah, Lance Armstrong -- who told us how to live strong -- confessed to cheating on his way to seven Tour De France titles and his unofficial title as America's role model.
So Generation Fraud is angry -- not at the cheaters.
We are angry at the exposers.
We are angry at those who would dare to judge our fraudulent heroes.
We don't care whether the legacies of our heroes were created by cheating.
Don't tell us everything we believed in wasn't true.
Generation Fraud says Bonds, Clemens and the other cheaters all belong in the Hall of Fame because everyone cheated.
Generation Fraud says we are still going to wear our Livestrong bracelets. We don't care whether Lance lived strong through cheating. We don't care whether Lance profited from our devotion based on cheating. We don't care whether Lance damaged others with his cheating.
Heck, none of us really ever watched Lance ride in the Tour De France. We couldn't tell you anything about it. We didn't care, because Lance cared about us.
Lance gave us the illusion of hope.
Generation Fraud grew up believing the greatest summer we ever had was in 1998, when McGwire and Sosa captivated a nation on the way to breaking Roger Maris' single-season home run record.
McGwire broke the record and celebrated at home plate by holding his son, one of the Cardinals' batboys, high in the air. He went into the stands and hugged Maris' widow and sons. Sosa and McGwire embraced. We watched with our fathers. There were tears in our eyes.
And now you are telling us that wasn't real? You are saying that those moments were nothing more than a scam?
We don't care. Cheating saved baseball. Proof? We don't have any. We don't need any.
We're Generation Fraud. We are not repulsed by fraud. We embrace it.
We grew up on "Punked," a show based totally on fooling people on MTV. We have taken it to a new level with "Catfish," a documentary turned MTV program based on concocting phony people online to trick people into Internet relationships.
"Catfish" has now entered the lexicon as a verb thanks to the latest celebrated scam -- Notre Dame's Manti Te'o's fake dead girlfriend, the hearts and flowers story that circulated throughout the media for months before finally being exposed by Deadspin.
Te'o got "catfished." Ha ha.
We're Generation Fraud. The truth stinks.