With Wes McElroy off on a week’s vacation, his family dog, Ishi the Golden Retriever, has filled the void with a topic particularly close to his heart.
Attention human race (namely Michael Vick and relatives): In the words of Frank Costanza at Festivus, “I gotta lot of problems with you people!”
Punishment to fit the crime: Perhaps Michael Vick and Clinton Portis should take off the pads and get in the ring with a pit bull—or better yet, each other.
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Checking out ABC News the other day, (and let me tell you, I may be just a Golden Retriever, but the things I could do to those legs of Diane Sawyer…ruff!), I learned that 66 of my boys were seized along with dog fighting equipment in an April 25 drug raid of a Virginia Beach home owned by Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick and inhabited by Vick’s cousin. Shortly thereafter a source told ESPN that Vick is a “heavyweight” in Virginia dog fighting rings.
I’ll let you in on a little secret: Being a dog generally ain’t that bad a gig. The canine process pretty much amounts to: eat, sleep, go to the bathroom and repeat. Once in a while, we play a little catch, chase a mailman and pull off a trick or two to keep you fine people happy. But when did the human race become that barkin’ bored with us that you need us to fight each other?
And what is dog fighting? My granddog used to tell us it was an old practice of stealing and then starving dogs, beating them with sticks, enraging them sometimes with electric shocks, and letting them loose in a small caged area to fight to the death.
And apparently, the old pastime of certain degenerates hasn’t ceased. Last year, according to Pet-Abuse.com (yes, even I can work the Internet), Louisiana State Police arrested 120 individuals and recovered 630 dogs in the course of a 12-month investigation.
Listen, I’m not the brightest species in the world (but then again I ain’t the one paying $4 for coffee at Starbucks). Occasionally, I drink from the toilet and get dizzy chasing my tail, but what I do know is that dog fighting is unacceptable whether you’re an NFL quarterback or a regular NFL fan or just a Homo sapien with a brain and a heartbeat. Not only is it a felony in 48 states, but it’s just cruel beyond comprehension.
Please don’t even give me that manure about it being equivalent to horse racing. Those fools live like kings after they race once every three weeks. I’m sorry to hear about Barbaro (my boy Scooby said he was the best stallion to come out of Philly since Balboa), but those nags get baths and three square meals a day!
We’re Man’s Best Friend, remember? Sorry that the heavyweight division is garbage and that the $59.99 you paid for Mayweather vs. De La Hoya didn’t satisfy your fighting jones, but Lassie vs Benji is not a good fight card!
As for that dope Clinton Portis—the running back of the Washington Redskins who said of Vick in a TV interview: “I don’t know if he was fighting dogs or not, but it’s his property; it’s his dogs. If that’s what he wants to do, do it.”—I’d like to take a leak on his leg.
And here’s an idea: Let’s steal Vick and Portis away from their multimillion dollar contracts, starve them for three weeks, beat them for another and then place them in a cage with a Big Mac between them.
Wes McElroy hosts “The Final Round” on ESPN 840am. M-F 4pm-6pm.