Michael Vick is a prick who's as thick as a brick. Pardon my French. But the Atlanta Falcons football player has committed one of the most abhorrent acts a human being could possibly commit. Vick's role in dog fighting and in the killing of dogs only shows what can happen when you pay someone lots of money to play a game where taking a lot of blows to the head is part of the job - when the person in question doesn't have enough sense in his head to begin with.
The NFL has suspended Vick indefinitely without pay, but it's becoming readily apparent that this sport has produced more heels than heroes. For every Joe Namath or Walter Payton football has given American sports, there have been ten guys like Michael Vicks and O.J. Simpson, who's still on the golf course in Miami looking for those Colombian drug dealers who killed his ex-wife. (Yeah, right. Drug dealers don't stop to play golf even in Miami!) But what do you expect from a sport where a killer instinct is de rigeur, where the cheerleaders dress more skimpily than Hooters waitresses, and where teams have aggressive names like the Lions, the Jaguars, the Titans, and the Chargers?
My English ladyfriend Therisa, in addition to being a soccer fan (her favorite movies include Bend It Like Beckham), is an animal welfare advocate. I can only shudder to imagine what she must think of the American penchant for violence, and how a peculiarly American sport like football brings out the worst in people.
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