Open Letter: Michael Vick

Dear Michael Vick,

With the exception of an open handed slap across the face, it is rare for me to want to inflict bodily harm on someone. That is, until you.

I see you out there, on the field, smiling, succeeding, making lots of money, and I know that if you hadn't been caught, you would still be treating dogs inhumanely. Yet, everyone wants to tell me you've changed.

You've changed all right. You've changed from a convict into a professional football player. You've changed from a despicable human being into a jersey-selling product. You've changed from a cold-hearted bastard to an apologetic softy.

The hell you have.

Men who get caught doing things they shouldn't be doing always turn to the cameras with tears and "heartfelt" apologies, when what they're really doing is trying to save their asses. If you had never been caught, would you have taken it upon yourself to stop your behavior? I bet you would have. I should really take it easy on you.

It's so sad that you were paid paltrily by the NFL and had to revert to doing something drastic, like fighting dogs and other acts I shall not name. 

You can't start boo-hooing after you've been caught. It seems insincere to stand in front of everyone--cameras rolling, flash bulbs flashing, quotes forthcoming--and say that you knew it was wrong and you're sorry. You didn't know how wrong it was until you got busted. Until it threatened to ruin you; ruin your status and power.

Your PR machine sure is churning out a different version of you. Here, here! Let's raise our glass to American's short term memory and our ability to swallow whatever we're fed.

You are, and will always be, a real piece of shit, Mr. Vick. I hope a linebacker breaks your collarbone and skins you alive.

Sincerely,

Whack-A-Muse