Not thugz, but punk-ass bitches

As I said in an earlier post, I'm not talking about a Zen-hunter, "one shot-one kill" philosophy respecting the deaths that make life (vegetarian or carnivorous) possible. I'm talking about sick fucks who feel more important, more manly, or more impressive by forcing animals to suffer and die, or who torture animals themselves.

I don't have an opinion about Michael Vick's guilt or innocence--jury hasn't even met. But I will make a couple of predictive observations, and a statement of conviction:

• If he's convicted, it won't be because he's black--it'll be because the evidence against him is so massive and inescapable that not even the Falcons or Nike can buy him an acquittal. Vick represents so many millions in revenue that the entire legal system will bend over backwards to give him a more-than-fair day in court;
  
• If he's acquitted, it won't necessarily be because he's innocent--but because there is one law for the rich and another for the poor, in this country;
• I don't care whether it was his cousin who previously testified that he "knew nothing about any dog-fighting at the house in Smithfield Virginia," or the four un-named "cooperating witnesses," or the cops looking for his cousin's drug paraphernalia who found the evidence of a dog-fighting operation, who turned him in. The indictment alleges that Vick was directly involved in sponsoring and participating in these activities, since 2001; that is, that he pulled the trigger, more than once;
  
• That's almost seven years. It is impossible that, in seven years, no-one in the Falcons operation, or in Vick's own business organization, or in the Atlanta sports community, or in Vick's own posse, knew something illegal, exploitative, and despicable was going on. So, there's plenty of culpability to go around, whether any sticks to Vick or not.

Finally, I'll reiterate something I said quite some time ago:

Whether you're some inbred cleft-palated hyphenated old-money member of the decadent English aristocracy--or even some greedhead young Italian-suited dot-com punk who's bought a title, a horse, and a pink jacket; a trans-fat-saturated orange-capped camo-suited lardball sitting in a deer blind with 3 buddies, $2000 worth of gun, and three cases of beer; or a swaggering genetically-gifted punk from the Virginia projects:

Torturing animals doesn't make you a badass thug; it makes you a punk-ass bitch.

Blood sports are for cowards.