Vacation is over, and there's so much catching up to do. For one thing, I noticed not long after getting back into town Sunday night, the Steve McNair bandwagon is emptying fast. Wow. The last thing I remember was the first drive of the preseason opener against the Giants. Something happened since then? Anybody? Help me out.

Also, the week before last, I was at the annual National Association of Black Journalists convention in Indianapolis, which produced enough blog topics to last me at least until the Ravens regular season opener next week. Yet I have to put off those topics, plus T.O., plus the one-year anniversary of Katrina (which I did do my weekly podcast on earlier today), the world basketball championships, the end of the Jeff Conine era and the latest BALCO developments - because I can't let anymore time go by before you see this:

Barry Bonds on the cover of MAD magazine.

Now, until I saw it in a drugstore in Westchester County, N.Y. last week, I didn't even know MAD magazine was still being published. I'm pretty sure MAD TV doesn't come on anymore, except the reruns on Comedy Central. Even though it apparently is still out there, I can't say I remember the last time I read it (maybe freshman year in college, 25 years ago), and I hadn't seen it since maybe a few years after graduation. With everything else satirical that's available out there in so many formats (like, for instance, smart-ass blogs), who knows if it even has the cache it used to?

Having said that, the sight of Alfred E. Neuman's mug perched atop the rendition of Bonds' steroid-inflated, syringe-studded body is startling.

And having said that, you have to wonder a couple of things about Barry. (1) Has he seen it? (2) If he has, what exactly has prevented him from hurling himself off the highest flagpole in AT&T Park into the waters of McCovey Cove? Is it some perverse notion that there's still yet another level of shame and degradation to which he can sink, and he's just curious to see where that level is? Because one look at that cover - before you even see the abuse he and baseball in general absorb inside the mag - tells you that he and his reputation has crossed a line no one, including him, ever thought they would.

For goodness sakes, less than a decade ago Barry Bonds was considered a surly guy who might be the best all-around player of his day and one of the greatest of all time. The biggest insult you could inflict on him was to make fun of his postseason stats.  Now, his name is being dragged through the mud in, literally, every corner of American culture. Who's gonna bust on him next, Bazooka Joe and his pals?

More to come ...