Of course I'm speaking about National Football League quarterback Michael Vick and the deep doo-doo he's in for participating in dog fighting, dog killing, and gambling.
Of course dog fighting and dog killing are nefarious, cruel, and inhumane activities. We don't need that in society.
But the fact remains, they're just freakin' pit bulls.
Now, if Vick and those like him were breeding and training collies, or Irish setters, or black Labradors, or little sweetie-pie miniature poodles to fight, maim and kill each other, you'd probably have a case. Man's best friend, after all. But, pit bulls? Those evil devils of Dogdom? Come on! They have no friends, let alone best friends.
Geez, cities and entire communities have ordinances banning these volatile creatures from Hell. You consistently read in the newspaper about pit bulls attacking, maiming and killing children and adults, and other dogs and domestic animals. It's what they do. It's what they were bred to do.
In our society, the baddest of the bad asses have pit bulls because they think it's an extension of their manhood that makes 'em look tougher, plus the vile animals do a pretty darn good job of guarding pot gardens and meth labs.
Ever hug a pit bull? You're crazy. Next time, go milk a grizzly bear. It's the same thing. And if you have this craving to drag something malevolent and indestructible on a leash, tie a chain to your bowling ball. Or Edsel. Or Rosie O'Donnell.
Pit bulls are the real land sharks, only with worse personalities. They breed, maim, kill, and eat. It's only a matter of time. And better yet, they like to take big bites of flesh and hold on and shake their fierce heads back and forth like a real shark hitting a chunk of chum. They love the sound of bones breaking, the taste of blood, and chewing you up and spitting you out and leaving you clinging to life in pain greater than losing your sweetheart to Ellen Degeneres.
In our society, fishing, hunting, and trapping are accepted as normal, healthy pursuits and a distinguished symbol of freedom. But take it for what it is...
Let's see, we jab a steel hook into a fish's face, rudely yank it out of the water by its lip, run a stringer through its gill, let it asphyxiate, cut its head off, gut it, cook it, and eat it.
Let's see, we fire a shotgun shell, a rifle bullet, or arrow through the flesh of a doe, finish it off with a bullet to the head, or knife to the throat, bleed it out, gut it, haul it to a vehicle, truck it to a locker plant or home, cut its head off, cut it up, eat it and/or freeze it for future consumption.
Let's see, we set a steel trap, some animal steps in it and is imprisoned when it snaps painfully shut on its torn, broken limb, we walk the trap line next day, finish off the suffering animal with a bullet to the head or knife to its throat, cut it up and, depending on what it is, either eat it or skin it and sell the pelt for a couple bucks.
We fry ants on the sidewalk with magnifying glass for kicks. We drop live lobsters in boiling water, crack 'em open, and eat them. Do you know what happens to male chicken hatchlings in the poultry industry the minute they break through their shell and are identified by the chicken sexer? You don't want to know.
When bears, wolves, coyotes, or cougars venture too far near camp sites or residences, we immediately hunt them down and kill them. In many states, we blow mourning doves out of the trees with shotguns, cut 'em up and eat them. With an axe on the farm, we cut the heads off live chickens and then laugh our heads off as the torso runs around like a chicken with its head cut off. We shoot racoons, rabbits, and squirrels point blank and skin them for novelty hats and pelts, or cut 'em up and eat 'em. In many states, they hold regular snake hunts, kill the capture, skin 'em, eat the meat, and make toy trinkets out of the skin, teeth, and rattles.
And, in my old house, in the middle of the night, I used to grab my tennis racket and slaughter brown bats that are an endangered species but were flying around in my living room. Special bonus - My overhead smash got significantly better and, very soon, my conscience waned enough so that I at times sinisterly wished for another night of bat visitors in my domain just for the exercise.
So, does that make fishermen, hunters, trappers, farmers, game wardens, snake hunters, diners, and batty sportswriters criminals?
Michael Vick bred dangerous, fierce, worthless pit bulls to life. He then performed a public service by killing many of them who under-performed in the fighting pit. Where would they (or we!) be today if he simply turned them all loose?
Michael Vick is to be pitied, not villified or imprisoned. He needs therapy to find out what motivates his bloodlust, not prison time. They are just freakin' pit bulls. Put the guy back in the NFL where he belongs.
He's not Satan.
His pit bulls are.