Thursday, September 27, 2007

Fourth Post


Post #4 Topic: A simple case of bad play calling

Ever since Michael Vick entered the NFL, his harshest critics have been nothing more than echoes of one another. “All Michael can do is run, he can’t pass”. Unfortunately for Michael, he waited for the wrong scenario to prove them wrong.

A month (or less) before September 13th, Michael Vick had the perfect opportunity to run. And run he should have. Michael should have run farther and faster than he ever has before. Michael should have run down main street, hooked a left on rte. 1 and just kept on running. But no. Michael, a guy who is notorious for his poor decision making decided to pass. Ironically, in what was the most certain, unhindered, unequivocated pass of his young (but finished) career, this pass was not to sure-handed tight end Alge Crumpler. This was not a screen pass to Warrick Dunn. This wasn’t even Michael passing on a team meeting. Instead this was that type of pass which we as fans can assume that a large number of athletes make on a regular basis, but do a phenomenal job hiding. (I went to Syracuse with Carmelo and I swear it was me who accidentally left my weed in his suitcase!!).

More likely than not the man on the other end of Michael’s pass was equally retarded brother Marcus. Tsk Tsk Michael, we all know that the dutchie is meant to be passed on the LEFT HAND SIDE (unless of course the man directly to your left is Ricky Williams, who more likely than not has his own stash and isn’t interested in “getting in touch with his soul” courtesy of that brick weed you picked up in Washington Square Park in the East Village (imagine that, drugs for sale in a park, wouldn’t that be something)).

But who in this prescription pill dependant nation can’t sympathize with Michael. Several months back I lost my dog of 14 years and was extremely distraught. Imagine how Michael feels. He’s been losing dogs at least once a week since he was a little kid. Plus he had to watch all of his friends lose their dogs and his family lose his dogs. Can you really blame him for seeking some herbal healing, as a way to feel comfortable, just him and his dawgs? I certainly can’t

You holden? Is William Holden here? Holden Caufield? OHH MY PROBE… Ha ha, party probe.

Plus, its hard to get weed in prison (again, based entirely on assumption). Michael considered this final (if you count every day of his professional career as final) sesh as a “last meal” of sorts. But let us not be so quick to convict what I see as an innocent man. According to the Model Penal Code, in order to be convicted of a crime the actor must possess the requisite Mens Rea. In simple English terms, this means some intent. Often times (as for Marijuana charges I’m not certain), this Mens Rea standard requires the actor to realize that what he is doing is wrong, known commonly amongst those trapped in the glass mime box that is the legal profession as “knowingly or purposely”. What does all this mean? Simple; Michael Vick is innocent.

Based on what we know about Michael, we can assume that he does not subscribe to Lexis-Nexis. Afterall, how else can we explain his belief that killing dogs was totally morally and legally acceptable? Given that information, we can logically infer that Michael was unaware of the laws in all 50 states making possession of Marijuana illegal as well (perhaps he only knows that you can’t carry it on airplanes in secret compartments in your water bottle… which is MPC 203.45) Thus, without notice (knowledge of the law governing him) he could not purposely have violated the relevant statute, and thus the glove (and the whizzinator) simply DO NOT FIT!

So here’s your plea bargain Michael. Come on TV. Tell us how awful you feel about the kids. The kids who looked up to you; the kids who waited on line for 5 hrs to get on the Michael Vick Experience only to find out that it wasn’t actually a real ride somewhere; the kids who started smoking weed because Michael Vick was doing it, and as Michael Vick once said when first accused of killing dogs… and I quote “it don’t matter what Michael Vick do, cause wherever Michael Vick go, MICHAEL VICK A HERO”. Whatever you say Maestro.

Then tell us that you’ll be back in five years. Bigger and badder and better then ever before, like a dog trained to sic’em on command. But while you whither away in your cell (and the Falcons wither away in the NFC South), you better quietly pray that Vince McMahon’s new all-convict league lasts longer than his all NFL Castaway league. Because quite frankly, should the league ever let you back in an NFL stadium again, the only running you’ll be doing is to and from the concession stands getting my popcorn and soda pop.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Other notes:

Name something that tastes bad with bacon. I dare you.

How the hell is Chinese delivery so fast and when are they going to teach us how to read minds?

Maybe Britney Spears was right when she sang that she was Toxic. Because she’s barely holding on. Now I’m not big into celebrity gossip (other than US Weekly which is gods gift to anyone on the toilet), but in her pictures she really looks like something out of a George Romero film. Finally directors have a screenplay worth of defaming the original exorcist for a 4th time.

Somebody in NYC stole my bike. I had it for 3 days, and had ridden it twice. Then I locked it up outside of my school, only to find it missing when I left the library. Note to all. If I see you riding my bike around the city I will jump kick you into the middle of traffic, even if doing so ruins my bike.

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