A few weeks ago, Michael Vick visited some New Haven schools (not ours) as a hero come back to excite kids about learning and school and warn them away from dog fighting. Some of my students asked me if I liked him and I just told them “I hope he dies in a fire.” In all actuality that was a bit of hyperbole; I really don’t care how he dies as long as it’s soon.
I’m not even going to get into what’s so wrong about dog fighting and how the surrounding “industry” of turning out fighting dogs is magnitudes worse than just the actual fighting itself, because if you can’t get why dog fighting is a fucking abomination, then please, do us all a favor and kill yourself. But why is it that we as a society clamor so loud and hard for the heads of the Cheshire home invasion murderers but seem content to let a man who tortured, abused and murdered animals for fun come right back into high society after a couple years time?
In the particular case of Michael Vick, the worst part isn’t that he’s not rotting in jail or has yet to be beaten to death for someone else’s entertainment, but rather that he’s being allowed to move on from his past. He plead not guilty to dog fighting and did less than two years in jail and now gets to live a life that thousands upon thousands of people can only dream of. He never said “oh yeah, sorry I’m a complete fucking monster of a human being who abused and murdered defenseless creatures for entertainment, I got lots and lots of help and now I’m not such a crazy maniac, can I please be let back into normal society now?” Instead he’s making millions of dollars, being a lauded superstar and has the fucking audacity to complain about the fact that he’s not allowed to get his kids a pet dog. The president of the US fucking THANKED the Eagles for giving Vick another chance. This piece of shit gets to live large while thousands of innocent kids are starving to death.
I don’t believe he’s paid his debt for what he did. Beyond which, even one believes he had and doesn’t think said debt should end with him in a wooden box, he belongs in treatment for a long long time, not up on some pedestal just because he can throw a ball better than most people.