The Dirty Bird

I’ve delayed talking about this story because I was hoping something significant would happen to change my mind regarding the situation. But I think realized over the weekend that nothing short of revelation from heaven is going to alter my perspective, so why postpone the inevitable. Before I continue however, in the interest of full disclosure, I need to establish a few things. I believe there are only two-and-a-half sports in North America; football and hockey, with basketball making up the half. I’m sorry, but golf is not a sport, it’s a game. Baseball is a game. Barely. Tennis might be a sport, but who cares? What’s relevant to this story is that I am a fan of professional football. I have DirecTV Sunday Ticket. Not so I can follow my favorite team every week, but so I can follow ALL the teams every week. I play fantasy football. This season I will field three teams in three different leagues. I am also a dog owner – or canine caretaker if you prefer. I have two spry young Jack Russell Terrier mixes who are very much part of my family. Oh, and I’m black. I’m sorry, that last part just slipped out. I don’t know why I said that. It shouldn’t have anything to do with anything, right?

For the past several weeks the face of Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick has been plastered all over the news. Following months of investigation he found himself indicted and last week pleaded not guilty to federal criminal conspiracy and animal cruelty charges relating to an illegal dog-fighting ring he was allegedly involved in. Unfortunately for Mr. Vick, one of his alleged co-conspirators has already rolled on him, and the mountain of evidence collected by the FBI seems to grow larger every day. Now I understand that the federal government regularly screws up a lot of things. But federal prosecutions are not one of them. Vick is not dealing with the Duke lacrosse prosecutor, or some backwater country bumpkin sheriff and judge somewhere in southern Georgia. When the federal government comes after you with both barrels, they don’t often miss.

So it was sad to see the lack of seriousness with which Vick, and several other NFL players handled this. Watching a great talent like Clinton Portis dismiss dog-fighting as routine, normal and acceptable in an ESPN interview while his overpaid goofball lineman Chris Samuels giggled alongside him like a schoolgirl with a crush was not only disturbing, it was disgusting. There’s nothing funny about soaking a dog in water and electrocuting it to death. There’s nothing manly about forcing two animals into a pit and forcing them to claw and tear and bite until one maims or kills the other. What kind of a man takes something totally dependent on you for food shelter and companionship and turns it into a killing machine, then murders it the moment it falls out of favor? You want to be a man? Get yourself in a ring with another man compensating for the same thing you are and go at it. Don’t project your inadequacy onto a dog.

Fortunately, the National Football League – and Vick’s sponsors took these charges more seriously than he did. Nike has pulled his entire line of apparel, Reebok has frozen all sales of his jersey, and the league has barred him from appearing at training camp. And with the trial slated for mid to late November, I’d be surprised if he plays a game this season. I feel sorry for the Atlanta Falcons organization. It’s unfair that their entire season may be lost due to this development. (That Matt Schaub Trade isn’t looking so great now, is it?) But sometimes the only way to get through to some people is to hit them in the only place it truly hurts – the wallet. I realize there are people, “fans” supporting Vick, talking about how it would be wrong to suspend him from the league and rescind his sponsorships, screaming about due process and innocent until proven guilty. This has NOTHING to do with due process. If on my way home from work tomorrow I run over a kid twelve times in a parking lot and find the story plastered all over the news the next day when I arrive at work, I would expect my boss to at the VERY LEAST suspend me from my job until the situation had been resolved. His business doesn’t need that kind of publicity. And please don’t trot out the tired old line about how Vick is the victim of a discriminatory system set up to target him because of his race. Michael Vick, and Chris Henry, and Tank Johnson, and Pacman Jones are victims of their own bad choices, nothing else. They didn’t need any help from the system.

Being a football fan I have several player jerseys hanging in my closet. One is a red Falcons #7, another is a white Broncos #26. As a dog owner, if this trial turns out the way I think it will, those two jerseys will find their way out of the closet and into the sleeping crates of my dogs, whom I’m sure will find the soft breathable material quite comfortable to sleep on. As a football fan I wish Vick the best of luck and I sincerely hope he wasn’t involved. But as a dog owner, I hope he’s got a good lawyer. He can always take comfort in knowing that whatever happens to him as a result of this trial will be as painful, as gruesome or as inhumane as what happened to those dogs.

BoobTube

Right off the top, I'm no fan of YouTube. I don't like it, I don't get it and I don't use it. For the most part, YouTube offers the web browser two choices. One, finely produced content from major media outlets convinced that the same old content is somehow hipper and cooler if it's offered/marketed online, from a grassroots, "viral" video community (owned by a multi-billion dollar corporation). Two, homemade, amateur content created by any Tom, Rick and Angie with a video camera and a computer. The first is just disingenuous. Clips of "America's Got Talent" and "Dancing with the Stars" are just as lame online as they are on television. The only difference is that online they can be lame over and over and OVER again, and on a smaller screen. The second smacks of narcissism and pathetic cries for attention. Why should I give a damn that some dude in North Dakota can fill out the crossword puzzle in less than two minutes using a pen stuck under his armpit? Who cares! Why is that important? Is my own life so mind-numbingly dull that I have time to waste viewing that? And yes, I'd feel the same way about this blog if I thought for a second that anyone was reading it. It's just sad. "Oh hey, why don't I film myself drinking milk through my nose and post it on the Internet so everyone and their dog can see what a jackass I am! I'll be world famous for absolutely no reason other than the fact that everyone now knows that I'm an idiot!"

So, that said, you'll forgive me if I didn't share the collective orgasm the media and the internet worshipers had over the CNN/YouTube sponsored Democratic party debate last night. To even refer to this dog and pony show as a debate is insulting. You could have stood eight marionettes by the side of the road with signs reading "Honk if you love apple pie!" and got the same result. Call me when we get down to two or three serious candidates and maybe I'll pay attention. But disregarding that, what is the big deal about having "the people" ask the questions? What is that supposed to accomplish that isn’t being accomplished by having reporters ask the questions? Does Phyllis from Tuscaloosa really have the same credibility as Anderson Cooper?

For those people who believe the people - through the new media will save politics, there is something you need to understand about politics. There are a limited amount of relevant questions to be asked of any candidate, and even fewer evasive answers a candidate will offer in return. Elections have been held in this country for over two hundred years. All the relevant questions have been asked, and all the evasive answers have been given. Repeating the same question in front of a camera in your basement doesn't add any validity, and doesn't change the answer. We already know that Dennis Kucinich approves of gay marriage, John Edwards wants to repeal the Bush tax cuts, Barack Obama never supported the war in Iraq to begin with, and Hilary Clinton was married to some guy named Bill, who busied himself staining other women's dresses. A snowman asking the question about global warming, or a guy singing the question about taxes adds absolutely NOTHING to the political process. It doesn't give anyone cause to stop and think a little harder. It doesn't make anyone more likely to compromise to solve the difficult issues. I would be stunned if it actually convinced one more person to cast a vote. All it does is make stars out of people who probably shouldn't be captured on video, let alone be featured on television. And there are far too many of those already.

Sharp Dressed Man

I want to talk about pants. I know, there are so many other, more important issues to be angry about. Dog fighting, incompetent government, global warming, that sort of thing. But it's still Sunday, and I want to talk about pants. I have eight hours before I have to think again.

Ever have a really nice pair of pants? I mean a really, really nice pair of pants. Pants with a comfortable relaxed fit, soft, supple material, and a perfect crease - every time. Pants that you washed right after you wore them so that you could immediately wear them again. Remember how much you paid for them? Fifty bucks? Hundred? Maybe three hundred? Well how about $67 million?

Judge Roy Pearson (yes, judge) recently sued his friendly neighborhood dry cleaner for $67 million (yes, six zeroes) over what he claims was a lost pair of pants. Now to be fair to the judge, they were his favorite pair of pants - part of his favorite suit of course - which he had planned to wear (underneath his robe?) on his first day on the bench... ten years ago. But when he went to retrieve the pants from the dry cleaner, they were not there. Not long after that he claims the dry cleaner tried to pass of and inferior pair of pants as the ones that had gone missing, but he wasn't having any of it. The sign in the window said "Satisfaction Guaranteed" dammit! And he was going to get some satisfaction.

Intelligent people everywhere have made fun of this idiot since the day this story broke, and I'm not going to be any different. If anyone ever deserved to be publicly skewered it is this judge. They were pants man, not diamonds. And I'm pretty sure he didn't have that much cash stuffed into his pockets. Obviously judge Pearson felt he was not making enough money serving the people on the bench and needed to supplement his inadequate income with a frivolous lawsuit. And if that were all this case was about I probably wouldn't mention it. But there are two other issues here. First, this is the type of case that drives people to hate lawyers. The very fact that this case wasn't laughed out of court the moment it was filed says something about the decadence of American society. With all the real problems the country faces every day, the best use we can find for our civil justice system is to waste time on a pair of pants. But more importantly, judge Pearson represents an unsavory, yet popular and expanding segment of our society. He is part of the entitlement culture. One of those individuals who believe that the sole reason the rest of us were put on this planet was to ensure they could get everything they want, whenever they want it. The world exists for their satisfaction, and we should guarantee it to them, regardless of how absurd their demands may be. If this society is to continue to survive and prosper, we are going to have to force a harsh realization on the entitlement culture. You are entitled to only three things; life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. All the other stuff you'll have to muddle through, just like the rest of us.

Sweet Tooth

I happened across a conversation this morning that took me back to my childhood. Back to a time before work and responsibility. A time when the most pressing thing I had to do on Sunday morning was to park myself infront of the television and watch cartoons. You know, Thundercats, Transformers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, all that great stuff. Oh, and remember all the things they advertised, like the Micromachines and the Kool-Aid, and the Pop-Tarts, oh yeah, and the Fruity Pebbles! Wasn't that fantastic?! Man, I remember somethimes, after watching all that stuff, I'd run off to find my mom in whatever room of the house she was in and I'd say, "Mom! Mom! Can we get a box of those new super double chocolate fudge vanilla-dipped cookie-filled sugar-coated frosted pastries?" And my mom would look at me and smile and say, "NO."

I guess they just don't make parents like they used to. According to the afore mentioned conversation, there's an epidemic of childhood obesity in this country. But apparently, the reason so many of the little buggers have ballooned in miniature Michelin men is becasue they've been exposed to too many advertisements for sugary and fatty foods. Well, isn't that something. Watching television commercials makes children fat. Interesting.

You know, I think i might know what's really going on here. Today's kids are ginormous (it's a word, look it up) for one of the following three reasons - see if you can guess which it is. Option one. Through the miracle of modern technology and plasma screen televisons, kids are able to absorb all sugars, fats and chocolate icing displayed on the high-definition screens, through their eyes into their bloodstreams and pack it all onto their bellies and chins. Option two. Adults have become so wrapped up in their gadgets, their work and their reality TV that they no longer have time to go grocery shopping. So instead they're strapping little Timmy into the Mercedes, taping the credit card to his tiny chocolate-covered fingers and sending him off to fill the shopping cart with whatever his little advertising-imprinted heart desires. Or maybe - just maybe - it goes something like this. Kid asks parent for some a snack, and parent never hesitates to hand over the cookie jar, often in an attempt to simply get junior to shut the hell up.

If people really want to know why so many American children are fat, look no further than their parents. Advertisers could pitch their wares to kids until they are blue in the face and accomplish nothing if parents would simply pay attention and do right by their kids. Children don't have jobs. They don't have any spending power whatsoever. Everything children have is given to them by their parents - including (in most cases) their spare tires and extra chins. This isn't like smoking. There is no such thing as second-hand weight gain. Instead of blaming people for marketing their goodies and ruining tasty sugary morsels for the rest of us, American parents need to grow a backbone and re-learn a very important lesson that my parents understood very well - how to say NO.

Post Prime

Welcome to Wish I Was Taller. The little corner of the weeb where I blather about things that sometimes interest me and nobody listens nor cares. I'm new to this blogging thing, and frankly, I think it's a little silly. But I'm told it's at least ten times better than talking to one's self, so I'm going to give it a try. I'm not sure how often I'm supposed to update this thing. I understand that some bloggers update everyday, but I'm guessing those people don't have jobs or lives, or better yet, actually get paid to tell people what they think. So I'm going to shoot for updating twice and week and see how it goes. I would start now, but it's now 3:00 am, and if there's one thing I learned during five years of all-nighters in architecture school, nothing good happens at three in the morning. So look for something later this week. I'm sure someone, somewhere will do something to draw my ire. Probably before Tuesday.