Michael Vick (or "Sick. Die slow in It's Belly")

Disgusting, vulgar, inhumane, barbaric, sickening, unholy, repulsive, nauseating, repugnant, unforgivable, perverse, unbearably violent, cowardly, terrifying, is how I described it. I ran out of adjectives. Sick, you sick, sick fuck.

"Cruel, degrading and illegal" is the way the NFL pathetically described dogfighting yesterday when confronted with Michael Vick's, QB for the ATL Falcons, house being raided. Inside the house they found a "dog pit", 2 feet deep and 10 feet across, stained with blood. They also seized 65 pit bulls most malnourished and neglected, many scarred and abused. All showed signs of being involved in dogfighting. Writing this I obviously want the following on the record. Save for a complete confession, repentance, and a life dedicated to the assistance to animals, I hope Vick is expelled from the NFL and dies penniless. I'm not so perverse as to wish him to suffer like he makes dogs, but I almost wish I was.

I have a little bulldog named Angus. Miki and I went to the breeder and walked up his driveway. I looked over the fence and saw my little boy looking up at me. I smiled, gave him a wink and knew I found my new friend. We run, play ball, wrestle, snuggle, he saved our marriage, we sleep together, drive all over town together, we've been kicked out of just about everywhere because they don't allow dogs, I held him through the entire 2004 SOX post season-I still call him thegoodluckredSOXbulldog, our favorite band is Sabbath, there's a dimple between his eyes in which my nose fits perfectly when I kiss him, when I broke my shoulder blade and was in a lot of pain he woke me up every morning with gentle kisses, he tolerates the jerks we meet and gives incredible love to everyone, he has 11 different expressions for each of his emotions and I've never seen true anger in him, he's stood in front of MIki when he sensed danger and knocked me over once just because he felt like it. If someone or something hurt Angus in the way "pitfighting dogs" are hurt I'd . . .


Fuck your "I'm a badass-I'm a big athlete"
Fuck your "I gotta big dick-watch my poor dogs fight."
Fuck you and your evil perverted means of hiding your inadequacies.
Fuck you and your "My dog is gun"
Fuck you and your spin doctor agent and your,"It wasn't me."
Fuck your testosterone and your sick feeble mind.
Fuck your fear and cowardice and the pain you leave behind.

I know it's wrong but I hope you die sick, die slow in it's belly.

I'd rather you die helping, willful or not. Die helping, don't leave your sickness lying around. Don't leave your evil shit on our floor.