As everyone in the known world -- the media, the public, the NFL, the bloggers, the pundits, Larry your bartender, PETA, HSUS, the dog in "Underdog" -- buries Michael Vick under an avalanche of hate, it's easy to strap on the skis and glide on down.
He's a deplorable human being. He should never be allowed to play football again. We should take him to the dog park and tie some pork chops around his neck and throw a T-bone in his lap.
The entire free-thinking planet is ready to play judge, jury and executioner with Vick's career and, possibly, life.
But I have a question: aside from Texas, does anybody put the mentally challenged to death? In other words, should Vick be given some slack because he's obviously incredibly, tremendously, unbelievably stupid?
I have no reason to defend Vick, and I have (enough) faith that our legal system will do what's necessary to punish him mightily for his transgressions. But it's apparent that, since his transcendent athletic skills were discovered, Michael Vick has never had to do much of anything in his whole life. Wake up: think about playing football. Go to school: wait to play football. Leave school: play football. Party: talk about playing football.
What kind of adult in his mid-20s, that travels -- chartered flights or not -- as constantly as Vick does, try to take a water bottle with a secret compartment that may or may not have contained weed through airport security and onto a plane in 2007;? And what sort of person, upon signing a 10-year, $130 million contract, turns it over to his cousins and friends to fund a large criminal organization?
That's right: a pretty damn dumb one.
Bugs fly into zappers. Cows march hypnotically into slaughterhouses. Lemmings fall off cliffs and drown during migration. Humans do enough mindless things to fill up a shelf's worth of "Darwin Awards" books.
Unfortunately, Vick took some innocent animals down with him. But nobody should be surprised that he went down. He obviously never had the brains to look up.