OK people, I'm back. Montreal this time. No poutine, but I did eat cheese curds. Yes, you heard me. I had curds.
Gentle readers, I'm pissed. Sorry mom, I said a bad word, but too bad. Pissed.
The Eagles signed Michael Vick. Have you seen the press coverage, the protests, the chanting?
He did wrong, he participated in something horrible and ugly. He showed that he was mean, violent, uncaring and abusive. He clearly showed he was a thug in every sense of the word. Subsequently, however, he went to prison. Not a country club minimum security prison, but an actual "hey man, you're my new girlfriend and I shall call you mine" prison, for almost two years. He's gone bankrupt for added measure.
Stop right now and think about all the other athletes and celebrities that have done bad things, stupid things, things of equal moral and social repugnance. It's easy for they are legion. O.J. anyone? Ray Lewis come to mind? Picture these folks in your mind, making their teary-eyed, apologetic press conferences, flanked by attorneys, PR professionals, and spin doctors, their contrived contrition as evident on their face as the shock an horror of coming to grips with the fact that they are not immortal and free to live above the laws of man as they have be led to believe all of their lives. Most hiring a dream team of legal all-stars earning suspended sentences, probation, anger management classes, and gaining street cred and page after page of coverage in all the daily, weekly, and monthly rags. Don't even get me started on the TV coverage.
Everyone came together en masse to make certain Michael Vick paid appropriately. The state authorities had little choice but to act swiftly and forcefully, what with the eyes of the nation on them from the category 5 winds of bad press from all the major networks, newspapers, sports writers, bloggers, PETA, and angry Chihuahua owners everywhere. Nothing short of a conviction and stiff sentence would have satisfied the blood lust of the angry villagers at the castle door with their pitchforks and torches. The federal authorities, making quite a show of the animal cruelty angle, brought their considerable weight to bear of course. We all know they were more concerned with the "organized" aspect of the dog fighting ring and cobbling on to an appropriate share of the illegal enterprise's profits. It was tax evasion that drove them, they could just wrap it up in the sexier animal angle. It's the money. It's always the money with them.
Michale Vick couldn't hide behind his attorneys, behind his poor upbringing, the sham of an education he received at Virginia Tech, his lack of an appropriate role model, the association with thugs from his posse. No, we, the public, simply would not allow it. We demanded, and received, our pound of flesh from this dog fighting, dog killing, tax evading blight on society. Now that he's paid his debt, served his time, complying with every state and federal requirement for his release, and trying to earn an income so he can begin to settle the score with Uncle Sam, we're still not satisfied. How dare the Eagles give this puppy murderer a second chance?
Dante Stallworth killed a man. He killed someone, yet no one holds a candlelight vigil in the slain victim's memory. There are no angry chants in protest, or the crafting of cleaver signs like the "hide your beagles Eagles" I saw on TV today. No torches, no pitchforks, no mobs on the courthouse steps. Nothing. Where's the outrage? Where's the 24/7 press coverage of a murderer still free and living his life of excess and luxury?
Morever, why aren't we climbing the revetments, scaling the sheer castle wall, and pouring over the top of the turrets like savages every time a sexual predator goes free in our courts? Why can't we mount an organized statewide protest when a murder occurs in our towns, in our neighborhood, in our homes?
A young woman in my small home town was murdered nine months ago. She was reportedly beaten, strangled, stabbed, and shot. The murder is unsolved. The family has managed to scrape together $22,000 as a reward, but the press coverage has stopped, the TV stations have all moved on, the leads have run cold, and the villagers far and wide have dropped their torches and moved on to worrying about Micheal Vick.
Somewhere a killer is munching on a bag of chips, watching pre-season football, shaking his head in disgust that anyone would give that dog killing bastard a second chance. Not far from where I live there is a family in ruin who will never, ever be the same. The two scenes above are being played out all across this country right at this very minute. The names and faces of the dead, both the buried and the walking dead of those cursed to live bearing the mental and physical scars of loss, are shortly forgotten.
This villager would like to remind all of you that Michael Vick paid his debt. Is he a sympathetic figure? Hardly. Is his remorse genuine? Only time will tell. But people, he paid his debt. You have exacted your pound of flesh. Now move on.
Move on to this: In the largest 27 cities in the U.S., there were 4,500 homicides. There has been a 42% increase in the number of domestic violence cases, and a 25% increase in rape and sexual assaults in the U.S. over the last two years. The state of Missouri ranked 16 in a drug related violent crime rate. In 2008, 258 Kgs of cocaine was seized in Missouri, along with over 900 Kgs of pot. During the year, there were over 1,400 meth busts. That's just my state. Want to look yours up?
You think I care about Michale Vick, a parolee who committed the financial crime of tax evasion and multiple heinous acts violence against animals? No. Sorry, but I'm a little busy worrying about acts of violence against my brothers and sisters you dolts. Most concerning, honestly, is that my fellow villagers can't be pulled from their iPhones, 401(k) accounts, and SUVs long enough to be bothered to visit, or write, an elected official making it clear that we will no longer tolerate drugs, murderers, and sexual deviates on our streets. We're not moved by the tragic loss of our children, mothers, fathers, and families to the point of activism of any kind. Yet, the during the time I have been writing this piece, the TV has has shown no fewer than 10 clips featuring Michael Vick and the subsequent protests that have erupted as a result.
From one villager to another, please drop your torches and pitchforks and slowly back away. I'm no longer scared of the criminals. No. It's you people who scare me to death.
It's one thing to encourage your son to not be afraid, get out there and tube behind the boat in a hundred feet of water. It's another to see him take a spill off that tube, head first, at twenty five miles an hour.
