You don’t know what it’s meant to have you in my life, girl. There were times there when I looked at this frayed coat of mine, these puncture wounds on my face and torso, and I didn’t think anyone would be capable of loving me.

The things I saw there, at Bad Newz, that’s some shit you can’t unsee.

I’ve found peace here at Best Friends. A peace I never knew possible. My life up to this point was consumed with ugly destruction from fights and uglier creation from the rape stand. Here, the walkies are tremendous and when I hump your leg, it’s mind-blowing, baby. It’s love.

DON’T COME UP BEHIND ME!!!!

Whew. I’m sorry to do that…it’s, it’s just a real downer, man. I can’t take it sometimes. It’s, like, the only others I can relate to are the other 46 who survived that place. You can try to understand, but unless you were there, I just don’t think it’s possible. I can’t quite put it into barks. That’s just the bond I have with them. It’s different with you, but it’s no less special.

AAAAAAHHHH STOP RAISING YOUR VOICE!!!

Wwwhhhaa. Okay, whatever it is, just write it down and slip the note under my paw. It’s okay. It’s okay. We cool. We cool. Can you just hand me that milkbone? No, that one over there. Yeah, I know I don’t have any teeth anymore. I just like to gum it a little.

Yeah. That’s it. Oh yeah. It’s gonna be aaaaaaalllllllllllllright.

Faithful KSK reader “naptowndrew” sent us this photo of Pacman Jones holding a pit bull puppy, conclusive evidence that Jones is closely tied to the seedy underworld of dog fighting.

So, like, what do I do now? Do I keep up with the fake-news format of claiming Pac is into dog fighting? Should I make up a conversation between Michael Vick and him at Bad Newz Kennels? Do I proclaim “caption contest!” and try to make a bigger deal out of it than it really is? (C’mon, do I look like The Big Lead?)

Frankly, none of it seems all that inspiring. It’s a fucking picture, that’s all. A picture of a troubled NFL star and a puppy. Hell, it very nearly humanizes a man whose off-field exploits have been marked mostly by violence and misogyny. Holding a puppy and making what white people think is a peace sign is a huge step forward for the guy.

(Semi-off-topic: for anyone who’s interested in reading more about dog fighting, add Craig Davidson’s Rust and Bone to your reading list. It’s a collection of stories about fighting so visceral and hard-hitting that I generally needed a break between them to recover mentally. The prose is gritty, spare, and staccato. And while only the second story in the book, “A Mean Utility,” is about dog fighting, it’s the most grim and realistic depiction of dog fighting I’ve seen.)

As if we could really have an all-out Mike Vick day here in the blogosphere without an official wardrobe! When you go down to the courthouse for the trial of the century don’t be caught without your o-fficial FREE OOKIE! clothes (because nudity just doesn’t fly in those southern courthouses).

Our first number is a vibrant red cotton t-shirt with everybody’s new favorite motto scrawled across the front.
If you select the premium option you can even get writing on the back (the future is now!).

And as long as you’re out spending money on yourself why not pick up something for the little Vick fan in your family? Seriously, you need to take better care of your kids before the state gets involved.

And don’t worry ladies, we’ve got the goodness the fairer sex. Now just go find some sugar daddy to buy it for your stingy ass.
All the goodness can be found at our shop by clicking HERE (or the nifty picture up in the top right corner). Stay tuned because more great stuff is on the way.

Oh, holy shit.

Oh, I am fucking stoned like Mother Teresa.

This is fucking great. Honestly, there’s nothing like just loungin’ at home and hanging out with your dog… while he fights another dog to the death while I place bets with this Taiwanese bookie I found in an alley.

Bookie: (flashes large wad of cash) Di mei mao!

Slow your roll, my hairy-moled friend. And get that boom mike outta here. I wanna soak in the atmosphere and shit. What I like about this dogfighting ampitheater I had custom built are the sight lines. Everyone’s got a good view of the fight and shit. (takes bong hit) God, this feels great. Can someone get me a mai tai or a similar rum drink. Mr. Bookie man, would you mind doublin’ as like, a waiter?

Bookie: (pulls revolver) Di mei mao!

All right! All right! Shit. I’ll have Marcus get it. He ain’t doin’ shit. Okay, let’s get these bitches goin’. Who wants to tango with my Priscilla? She the baddest motherfuckin’ rottweiller/pit bull/doberman/German Shepard mix that ever was. She’s Jaws with paws, bitches. That was the tagline to that movie “Man’s Best Friend,” but that shit is mine now.

(A succession of fresh-faced college students bring their dogs around)

Hoo hoo! Look at these tomato cans. Motherfucker, you should just name that bitch Science Diet, cause that’s what Priscilla’s gonna turn her into. God, I fucking love my life. Can’t nobody do what I do: run a huge mid-Atlantic dog-fighting ring while nicely toasted and have no one be wise to it.

Bookie: Di mei mao!

That’s it, folks! The time for placin’ bets is fuckin’ over. Now it’s time for some high-end canine Kumite shit. What’s the name of Priscilla’s victim this evening? Lucille? Oh, that’s fucking rich. Two bitches goin’ at it hard. I wonder: can two dogs have a catfight?

Hang on. I just dazzled myself.

Inspector Todd: Vick!

The fuck is that?

Inspector Todd: Where is that motherfuckin’ Vick?!

Oh shit.

Inspector Todd: The fuck are you doin’, Vick?!

Shit, I’m hallucinating again. Who laced my shit?! Inspector Todd from the “Beverly Hills Cop” films is back again!

Inspector Todd: You goddamn right I’m back. What the fuck are you having a fucking dog fight here for, motherfucker?

You’re not here! I’m not listening! You’re really actor Gilbert R. Hill and shit!

Inspector Todd: The fuck I am.

Inspector Todd, I don’t know why you have to use so much profanity.

Inspector Todd: You been holdin’ illegal fucking dogfights in this fucking state for too long, Vick!

It wasn’t my idea! It was Marcus’! You know he’s the violent one!

Inspector Todd: Don’t fuckin’ lie to me!

What’s the problem? We’re havin’ fun and shit! Ain’t nobody getting hurt. Except the dogs.

Inspector Todd: And what the fuck you need to bet on this shit for?!

I dunno. Flash money.

Inspector Todd: Oh, I see. Flash money. Let’s see. $2,000 for a suit. $500 for a tie. A requisition order for a Ferrari. The fuck you need all this shit for?

Oh, please don’t hurt me, Inspector Todd! I was just trying to make things happen like I always do! I’m gonna change! I swear! I ain’t gonna smoke any more laced dope. And I’m gonna stop hanging out with the wrong crowd.

Bookie: Di mei mao!

Except Lo Tan. He and I are tight.

Inspector Todd: This is your last chance, Vick. You’re a talented QB, but I’m tired. I’m tired of watchin’ you fuck up again and again. I’m tired of this shit. You hear me? Fuckin’ tired.

Okay. Okay! I promise I’ll quit! No more! I swear! I just wanna hang, Inspector Todd! Inspector Todd? Inspector Todd, where’d you go? Lo Tan, you see a really angry black man screaming at me in here just now?

Bookie: Di mei mao!

No? So it was all in my head? Phew! Man, that was fucking trippy. Okay, Priscilla. Go tear that bitch’s head off.

Photo courtesy of The Onion.

UPDATE: Did you know there’s a death metal group fronted entirely by pit bull vocalists? That’s right. Say hello to Caninus, Michael Vick’s favorite new band.