So dog fighting is in the news. And Michael Vick, who was the most athletic quarterback in the NFL three months ago, is now the single most vile person in my world. Dog fighting is disgusting, sickening, dispicable, and... well, it's crazy-making stuff. You know... stuff that reminds you of the base animal part of your brain. That part that actually is capable of killing and is in each and every one of us. It's there to keep us from laying down when a threat -- say rapist -- enters our personal space. But it also has some interesting psychological side effects in the context of civilization -- 1. Fantasy (we get to work out the visceral reactions we have, instead of acting them out); 2. Empathy (it is not in-human to want to kill); 3. Creativity...
See, it's the creativity part that I've been honing.
I've heard people say we should throw Michael Vick into a pit with starved fighting dogs and see who wins.
I've heard it suggested that we just feed him to them - but then the death would be too quick.
I've heard that we should castrate him, feed him his own balls, or maybe the feces of the animals he's abused.
I was contemplating this out in the yard, where as I watered the cantaloupe, I was besieged by fire ants. Three bites were enough to send me, cursing, to the medicine cabinet for bleach to take the sting out.
So I have creatively devised the perfect death sentence for Mr. Vick. We bring him to my house, strip him naked and shackle him to four spikes in the ground so that he is laying spread eagle in the sun. Then, we drizzle him with honey. Then, we let the fire ants and the Texas summer sun take their toll. It should take about three or four days to kill him. And in the mean time, the ants will have tortured him beyond human capacity to withstand.
Edgar, Tyler, Bailey, Keena and Jenna all agree that he deserves no better.
Woof! Pass the honey.
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