Michael Vick should suffer dog fighting penance on Planet of the Pooches
August 22, 2007
"Beware the beast Man, for he is the Devil's pawn. Alone among God's primates, he kills for sport or lust or greed. Let him not breed in great numbers, for he will make a desert of his home and yours. Shun him; drive him back into his jungle lair, for he is the harbinger of death."
-- Cornelius, reading from the sacred scroll, in "Planet of the Apes"
Welcome to the sequel; our new alternative universe -- Planet of the Pooches.
This is a place where dogs rule, where dogs call the shots, where dogs act as humans and humans act as animals.
This is where Michael Vick has been sent to do his penance.
"How's our new quarterback looking?" asks Chomper, a pit bull who is the lead dog and bankroller of the Bad Newz Bearz -- an illegal operation that trains humans to play football.
"Not bad," answers Rambo, a Rottweiler who is Chomper's cousin and the head trainer of these helmet-headed Homo sapiens. "Vick's got some raw ability, but I don't know if he has the gameness and killer instinct to become a grand champion."
Chomper growls: "He better have the killer instinct! We've got a big game next week, and I've got $50,000 and two cases of liver snacks riding on the outcome. . . . Where is Vick? I want to see him?"
"He's outside chasing cars," Rambo says before turning his attention toward the television.
The TV is tuned to ESPN and its broadcast of the Westminster Human Show, which has come down to two contestants -- David Beckham and a Hooters waitress. On the wall above the TV is a tapestry of "Humans Playing Poker."
Chomper and Rambo walk outside to survey their football-playing operation, which is considered a reprehensible bloodsport by many in the dog world. The reason football is illegal on the Planet of the Pooches is because it is considered a barbaric activity where humans are injected with steroids that build up their muscles but ravage their organs. The bulked-up football players are then trained to be vicious, violent and unfit for normal society. The worst of these hostile humans, according to underground reports, are owned by a football-playing ring in Cincinnati.
"If we're going to beat the Bengalz next week, Vick has to be ready," Chomper snarls.
The human training camp is a grisly site. There are piles of quarterback carcasses lying lifeless in a hole, waiting to be buried. This is where Ryan Leaf, Rick Mirer and Kelly Stouffer came to die. These are the QBs who could not cut it, and all that is left of them are the flies circling their tattered jerseys. They were killed senselessly -- electrocuted, lynched or drowned -- for no other reason except that their passing efficiency dipped below 64.7.
It's no wonder an organization has been formed to protect these defenseless critters.
"Shamefully, dogs torture and exploit these poor humans for selfish motives," says Lassie, spokesperson for DEATH (Dogs for the Ethical and Appropriate Treatment of Humans). "As a higher life form and a cultured civilization, we need to respect all of God's creatures as we respect one another. That's why I treat my human, Timmy, like he's one of the family."
Besides the repugnant activity of forcing humans to play football, DEATH has many other causes. It fights against the abhorrent conditions at factory farms, where humans are often castrated, separated from their children and spend their pathetic lives crammed into tiny crates where they can't even turn around. Then the humans are herded into slaughterhouses, where they are tortured and killed for animal consumption.
"DEATH is just a bunch of left-wing, do-gooder, human-rights wackos," rails conservative canine talk-show host Rush Limbeagle.
Meanwhile, back at the football farm, Chomper is livid. The Bengalz just destroyed the Bad Newz Bearz 42-7, and Vick was intercepted three times and fumbled twice.
"Get rid of him!" Chomper screams at Rambo. "Get this lousy, stinking excuse for a football player out of my sight!"
Rambo bares his teeth into a depraved grin, lifts a paw and points to a hellish hole in the corner of the compound.
Flies are circling the faded jersey of Bubby Brister.
"Do you want me to bury him with all the rest?" Rambo asks.
Chomper shakes his head and looks down at the cowering quarterback.
"No," he says, "I'm getting out of this crummy racket. Not even a human deserves to die like this."
Mike Bianchi can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org