Earlier today, ESPN ran a column from Toure wondering what it would be like if Mike Vick were white. But since Toure was apparently too much of a pussy to actually play the scenario out, allow us to do the job for him.

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GREATEST QUAHTAHBACK EVAH!!!

Thank you, Peter King:

“Has there ever been a red-headed quarterback in the NFL who’s really done well?” the coach asked. “It sounds idiotic, but is there any way that could be a factor? We’ve wondered.”

Here’s how this whole thing started if you missed it.

Vick: Oh.

Oh, man.

Oh, Sweet Wilma Flintstone. DAMN.

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THE WHAT TO THE WHAT? Michael Vick was awarded the key to the city in Dallas. Mayor Pro Tem Dwaine Caraway bestowed the honor, because that’s what you do for a guy that’s gone 18 months without killing animals for sport. Not to beat a dead hound here, but is Vick really “key to the city” material? He may be that in Texas, where blasting people trying to rob your neighbor’s house is totally cool and Dubya can win 69 percent of the vote. I mean, how long can we keep Vick at arm’s length from society? And why stop with a key? Can’t we at least make him the ambassador to Egypt?

And really, who can blame him? Dogs are pretty great.

Unfortunately Vick has a bit of a history with canis familiaris. Remember the rape stand? Bad times. Back to the original point, Vick told The Grio that in the future he’d like to be a dog owner. You know, the non-murderous kind. He believes that it could aid in his rehabilitation, plus his daughters really want a puppy.

Not everyone is on board. Andrew Sharp of SB Nation calls it a “terrible idea,” while Chris Chase, arbiter of timeliness and writer for Shutdown Corner, declares it “too soon.” He goes on to concede that, “In time, it might make sense for him to own a dog.” Which is pretty much what Vick meant when he said, “”I would love to get another dog in the future.”

By all accounts Vick has done a lot good work with the Humane Society since his release. I personally don’t have a problem with the Vick family adopting a dog in the future, as long as his friends at the Humane Society are on board. Just don’t let him adopt TWO dogs. That’s where the trouble starts.

Lost in the dizzying fun of DeSean Jackson artfully falling into the end zone in last night’s Eagles victory over the Cowboys was Dallas running back Tashard Choice asking for Michael Vick to autograph his gloves after the game. Oh man, that’s the sort of the meaningless violation of athlete protocol that will have sanctimonious pundits running around with clenched buttholes for days. Derek Anderson smiling and laughing on the sideline will seem like nothing. Here’s one now.

What the f*ck, indeed. Speaking of that phrase, it was picked up quite clearly on the Raiders sideline late in their loss in Jacksonville. I don’t know why I so love it when a microphone accidentally picks up an athlete swearing during a game. It’s not as though profanity doesn’t already act as an unextinguishable source of filler in my everyday life. Maybe it has something to do with me being condemned to never progress beyond the mental age of 12.

Damnhellasssfuckcunttitshitbitch

/squeals with delight

Vick video via SB Nation, who has the coolest social media strat going. Seriously, don’t ever knock it. They’ll hurt you.

John Feinstein, in an opinion given a startling amount of serious attention, found racist coding in the many inane excuses Mike Shanahan used for justifying his benching of Donovan McNabb in the final two minutes against the Lions. No, no, NO! How could Feinstein be so misguided? Shahahan doesn’t dislike McNabb because he’s black. Shanahan is just an asshole who mistreats every quarterback who isn’t Elway. Race is why Philly fans hated him.

Oh, calm down, Philly scum, I’m just cruelly baiting you.

Still, there’s no outcome that doesn’t lead to unbearable media reaction. Even with the new ludicrous contract, a Redskins win means sanctimonious writers like Feinstein get to obtusely claim how racism has been proven wrong yet again. An Eagles win gives occasion to thousands of smug Philly writers to try to smugly explain how McNabb losing justifies the city’s retarded obsession with hating his guts. All the more reason to silently resent the media borg I have allowed to assimilate me.

Don’t forget to while away the pregame with this week’s edition of The Designed Rush at SB Nation.

Oh, man.

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Song: “Knives and Pens” — Black Veil Brides
Mood: Most Morose

When you’ve lived long enough to experience the kind of grief that I have (24 in October!!), few tragedies catch you off guard. Having to settle for the third college on your list. Being saddled with semester after semester of jerk roommates. Not being blessed with the kind of pointless overrated lead singer in a shitty band voice that makes Samantha fall in love with you in clear deviance of her better interests. I’ve dealt with some of the worst that life has to offer.

Every so often, however, there sneaks a devastating cruelty past the safeguards of even your most cynical expectations. Those are the ones that really get you. The ones you can’t shake off, that make the full malevolence in the world so self-evident that it could be referenced in Satan’s founding document of Hell. I could never begin to know the full complexity of Kevin Kolb, but I bet that’s what he has to be feeling at this moment.

You see, Kolb was selected in the second round of the 2007 NFL draft. High enough to be regarded as a viable starter, but low enough to he could be allowed to whither on the bench’s vines for several years. He did so with dignity, but also with hope that eventually his day would come. He never spoke out of line and did what was expected of him. And though it took the departure of an underappreciated legend happening before its time, Kolb’s day did come. Only that day ended in disaster. He suffered a concussion, the type of injury that will be one day render him homeless and incompetent. Someone to be hauled in front of Congress as a cautionary tale of the sport.

That will come later, of course. For now, Kolb is still a football player. The concussion should have only been a minor setback. He had earned this job, after all. Only no. Fairness would make too much sense. That would be the script if we operated according to our better angels. But how often do they have a a part in how things play out?

Instead, a total jerkwheat comes forward to usurp the job with a few flashy plays. Here is a man capable of unspeakable evil, nevertheless able to dazzle all around him with athleticism. And now he is proclaimed leader. How can people be so blind as to the inner workings of the soul? I want to say they will pay for lack of perspective, but I know from experience that they will probably not.

I want to say the lesson of Kevin Kolb is that one must disregard the virtues of patience and simply, maybe callously, take our most heartfelt desires. To do otherwise is only to foster deception. Deception most inimical.

This Volvo owner was crushed to learn that OOKIE was already taken.

Thanks, Sarah.