Vick: Whoa, man.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

I am stoned like Betty fucking Crocker. I can’t believe how fucking stoned I am. Check it out! Tree bark is growing on my legs! That is fucking trippy, man.

(phone rings)

WHO’S THAT?

(phone rings)

Quit scaring me like that, Mr. Phone. I don’t sneak up behind you and start making weird fucking noises. Show some goddamn respect.

(phone rings)

Shit.

(picks up phone)

Who dis?

Purnell: Ookie, it’s Peace.

Vick: Oh, Peace! How the fuck you doin’, man? Dude, remember when we put that rabbit in a garbage can and rolled it down a highway exit ramp? That was fucking hilarious.

Purnell: Michael, I’m not doing so hot. Listen man, Quanis and I have decided to negotiate plea deals.

Vick: You’re starting a flea circus? That’s fucking crazy man. I saw a cartoon about that. They were on trapezes and stuff. Really high end, mind-blowing shit. Do fleas fight? That would be bitchin’.

Purnell: No, we pleaded guilty. You know, in the dogfighting case.

Vick: Oh, the dogfighting thing! That shit’s still going on? I smoked up, like, sixty times after that, so I figured that shit was just over and what not. I always think things will work out in the end. You might call me an optimist like that.

Purnell: No, it’s not over. We had to settle with the government.

Vick: Settle? How much did they pay you?

Purnell: No, not that kind of settlement. We got a chance at reduced charges in exchanges for testifying that you were the main financier and organizer of the fights.

Vick: So you get off easier by testifying against me?

(processes)

(processes)

(processes)

(processes)

MUTHAPHUCKKA, I’VE BEEN BETRAYED! YOU SOLD ME OUT, MAN!

Purnell: We didn’t have a choice! We were going to go to jail for years!

Vick: But what about our friendship, man? What about all the good times we had together? Like the time we smoked up and ate that entire package of Hormel pepperoni? Or the time we smoked up and went down to the dock and unhooked all the boats and watched them drift away? Or what about the time we smoked up and I nailed your fiancee? We shared moments, man. Precious memories. And now you’ve gone and doodooed all over them! You and Qyntel!

Purnell: Quanis.

Vick: Whatever.

Purnell: We’re still friends. You know we’re boys, man. No one can take that away from us. But we had to do what we had to do.

Vick: You didn’t have to do anything! Look at me! I do nothing all day! I had to take a shit just now and I didn’t even bother to get up! Now there are fruit flies all over me!

Purnell: This is serious, man. These people mean business. They take this dogfighting shit hard, man.

Vick: But I don’t get it, man! I’m no animal hater! I love dogs. That’s why I like to fight them! I like to admire their inherent dogginess! This is horseshit!

Purnell: Either way man, you have to plea. It’s the only thing to do.

Vick: Fuck that. Nobody can send my ass to jail. No one has my escapability! I’mma beat the rap, then get back to doin’ what I do best: run with the football as a quarterback.

Purnell: But I thought you were suspended.

Vick: (takes bong hit) I was? Man, why am I always the last motherfucker on Earth to know shit?!

Photo courtesy of The Onion

Mike Vick co-defendants Purnell Peace and Quanis Phillips will reportedly appear in court later this week to formally accept guilty plea agreements. This would leave Ookie as the sole remaining defendant. In legal parlance, Vick has gone from being merely fucked to supreme mega-fucked 5000.

ESPN reports Vick is considering taking a plea himself to avoid additional federal charges. At this point, a trial seems unlikely. Vick should start preparing himself for incarceration. Any man loses his spoon spends a night in the box, or so we hear.

Ah, 1987. We were all so much more careful, more prepared for the worst twenty years ago. No one was on Prozac. The Unabomber bombed freely. The Japanese stood poised to destroy every American business. Consecutive summer Olympics had been marred by Cold War boycotts. And presidential scandals were all about taking the money from illegal arms sales to sworn enemies and using it to illegally fund rebels opposing a sworn enemy on a different continent (Take that, blowjobs and far-ranging organizational incompetence). It was an era where we handled impending doom with abject fear, instead of today’s more popular ironic detachment and willful ignorance.

And though few remember it, pit bulls — not the well-intended gambling addicts training them to kill — were the next Great Menace. Hey, something had to replace Soviet Russia.

Yes, it was 20 years ago this week that SI featured the dangerous “pit bull terrier” with an ominous “Beware of Dog” sign posted on the fence around its magazine. And I think we need to reflect on this. It’s time to give Michael Vick a break and look at the real enemy: pit bulls. Because has Vick ever actually killed a pit bull? Well, yes. Probably. But he was mostly putting the animals that he cared for out of their misery. Animals that were MAULED BY PIT BULLS. Not humans. Not Michael Vick. Pit bulls. And they need to take some of the blame.

Alas, young Ookie was only seven at the time of the SI cover story, and SI KIDS didn’t make its debut until 1989 (And even then it was all puff pieces: Look at this popular athlete! We photographed him smiling AND jumping!). It’s safe to say he missed the lessons of this SI feature that targeted young athletes with pro aspirations. Among the warnings about pit bulls:

- Minimal shedding negated by propensity for bleeding on carpet.
- Tendency to hump other dogs against their will, eat babies.
- Product of communism (probably).
- Did not participate in Hands Across America.
- Are easily bred to believe Holocaust did not occur.
- Likely to kill adorable cobras.
- Menacing nature confirmed when pit bull puppet attacked Ronald Reagan puppet in “Land of Confusion.”
- Probable source of AIDS.
- Fur not very soft.
- Will totally fuck up your NFL career.

Unfortunately, the warning went unheeded on the gritty streets of Bad Newz, and now it’s NFL fans who suffer at the loss of the most electrocuting player in the league.

Thanks a lot, pit bulls.

(Image found by Football Huddle 3.0)

I’ll be one of the first to admit that one of the problems with Chancellor Goodell’s wave of personal conduct righteousness is the near-total disregard for due process. Michael Vick, among other players whose names and situations have been well-documented, face harsh suspensions (or even expulsions from their respective teams) with little more than a wave of The Rogg’s hand. Vick’s situation, obviously more emotionally charged than those before it, appears even more perilous. Casual observers, even Vick supporters, risk being labeled as “haters,” which, I guess, is bad.

So how would one be able to publicly show support for Mr. Vick? Especially when the media, PETA, and the Salvation Army are all out to get him? Fortunately, KSK has obtained such a manifesto, in 3 parts, geared toward providing Ookie with the fan base he currently so desperately needs.

This guide was intended to be posted AS A COMMENT on Deadspin earlier today (I’m not making that up), but was intercepted by noted Combudsman Rob Iracane. KSK then brokered a deal with Mr. Iracane to acquire the manuscript, along with the rights to reproduce it in this space, as a way of telling the “other side” of this fascinating tale.

I present the Ookie Manifesto:

Article I.

FUCK ALL OF YOU VICK HATERS YOU CAN SUCK THOSE DOGS DICKS.
HOW COULD YOU FUCKING FAGGOTS CARE SO MUCH ABOUT DESTRUCTIVE ASS PIT BULLS, THESE FUCKING DOGS HAVE BEEN RECORDED KILLING FUCKING HUMANS. SO SHUT THE FUCK UP AND KISS HIS ASS!!!!

Article II.

YOU FUCKING CRACKERS TRIED TO GET HIM OUT OF THE LEAGUE A LONG TIME AGO DEAL WITH IT HE IS A GREAT ATHLETE . ONE OF YOUR FELLOW FEMALE CRACKERS WENT BEHIND THIS AFRO AMERICAN AND PICKED UP HIS FUCKING WATER BOTTLE AND SAID IT SMELT OF WEED. ONLY IF THIS BITCH IS ALSO A FUCKING DOG AND A REGULAR CHRONIC SMOKER WOULD SHE BE ABLE TO SNIFF THE SCENT OF WEED ON THE TOP OF A WATER BOTTLE.

VICK IS RIGHT!!!! ALL THE TIME YOU GO VICK!!!!!

Article III.

RAY BU(FUCKIN)CHANNON IS A BITCH

–END–

To recap:

1. Perform canine fellatio immediately. Kiss ass.
2. Even the g0ddamn dogs are out to frame Vick.
3. Ray Buchanan is a bitch.

Now you know. And knowing is half the battle.

BUY ME!

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.

Vick: Oh, man.

Hoo boy.

Good Lord.

Well, this is it, man. I’m not getting any more stoned than this. I mean, holy fuck.

I might be dead.

(phone rings)

I guess I’m not dead.

(picks up phone)

Hello?

Lawyer: Michael, it’s your lawyer.

Vick: What’s going on, Mr. Perry Mason?

Lawyer: Michael, you’ve been indicted.

Vick: Indicted? Really? Who’s throwing a party? Ookie loves a good party.

Lawyer: No, no, you’ve been indicted., not invited. An indictment is when you are charged with a crime.

Vick: Well, what crime did I do?

Lawyer: Conspiracy to travel in interstate commerce in aid of unlawful activities and to sponsor a dog in an animal fighting venture in U.S. District Court for the Eastern District in Richmond, Va.

Vick: Uh… wha… I was in a commercial?

Lawyer: You’re being charged with dog fighting, Michael.

Vick: Oh, snap! Really? Well, fuck me blind.

Lawyer: This is serious, Michael. It says that Bad Newz Kennels…

Vick: You like that name? I think the Z makes it even fucking nastier.

Lawyer: It’s a very nice name. It says you ran a dog fighting outfit out of Smithfield, VA.

Vick: Well, what’s so bad about that? Know what else they do in Smithfield? Make ham. And I don’t see any charging any farmers out there with pig fighting.

Lawyer: Well, they don’t make them fight.

Vick: Well, they should. That would be fucking sweet.

Lawyer: Slaughtering pigs is legal because it’s for commerce.

Vick: But you just said I was being booked for commerce! I made $50,000 off that shit!

Lawyer: It’s just… It’s just not the same.

Vick: (takes bong hit) Well then, that’s fucked up.

Lawyer: It’s says you performed electrocutions. True?

Vick: Hell, yes! I’m the most electrocuting player in the NFL!

Lawyer: And that you drowned them? Hung them? Slammed them to the ground?

Vick: No way, man! I was just being playful. No, wait! That was, like, obedience training and shit. Yeah! I had to drown a bitch or two because they fought TOO MUCH! I prevented them from fighting AGAIN! So, in many ways, I am a hero. How you like that?!

Lawyer: I just… I think you should prepare for the fallout, okay?

Vick: Eh, whatever. Fuck that. (hangs up) I think I better kill the rest of those dogs. I’m tired of these dogs snitching. Priscilla! Come here, girl!

(enter Priscilla)

Vick: Now, you know Ookie loves you, right?

Priscilla: WOOF!

Vick: In fact, he loves you so much, he wants to show you around doggie heaven! You interested?

Priscilla: WOOF!

Vick: I’ll take that as a hell yes!

(grabs cattle prod)

Photo courtesy of The Onion.

UPDATE: This is brutal.

“Man, if they called me Ookie it would really be on,” Vick told ESPN.com’s Page 2 several years ago. “I would really be upset, because nobody else can call me by my nickname but my mom. Unless I give you permission because you really know me, but none of the guys know me real good so they can’t do it. But yeah, that would really get me going.”

Back in April, Michael Vick was scheduled to lobby Congress on Capitol Hill to fund after school programs. Unfortunately, due to a late arrival on a flight from Tampa, he missed his 8:35PM connecting flight in Atlanta, and then was a no-show for the 10:50PM flight he was subsequently booked on. Here now is what transpired between those two times to cause Vick to his miss his connection.

8:35PM
Oh, man.

Oh, man.

Oh, SHIT.

I am fucking stoned.

(gets off plane)

I mean, holy shit. I feel like a neon light. Somebody get hold of me, because I can pretty much feel all my blood vessels pulsing right now. I can’t tell if I like it or not.

Man, Getting stoned before getting on that plane was a motherfuckin’ mistake, man. Fucking pilot said that flight would be 45 fucking minutes. That wasn’t no 45 minutes, okay? That was 8 days. That’s a long time to be in the fucking air, man.

I think my contacts are stuck to my eyes. FUCK. Now I gotta get on another flight? Shit. I can’t take this shit. I better smoke up.

8:50PM
(walks into bathroom stall, smokes up)

Hooo!!!!! That feels… NICE. I’m gonna shit, just to complete to the doubleheader.

8:52PM
(plop)

Hooo!!!!! Double NICE!!!!!

9:00PM
Why is the toilet paper in this place only one ply? Fucking Scott Tissue. I may as well wipe my ass with an emery board.

What’s with these automatic faucets, man? There’s no water pressure in this shit. Look at this. Takes 5 hours just to rinse the soap off.

9:02PM
Air dryers? Fu-uck.

9:10PM
Oooh, California Pizza Kitchen!!!!!! MV7 is eating like a fucking kang tonight! Shrimp scampi pizza? That’s fucking crazy. I kinda want the Thai pizza. Or do I want the barbecue chicken pizza?

9:15PM
Thai, or barbecue chicken?

9:20PM
Thai, or barbecue chicken?

9:25PM
Thai, or barbecue chicken?

9:30PM
OOOH!!!! BLT Pizza!!!!

9:35PM
Thai, or barbecue chicken, or BLT?

9:40PM
Fuck it. I’m going to Pizza Hut.

9:50PM
Holy shit, this pizza is SOOOOOO good. Man, how come the only channel they got here is the CNN airport channel? I wanna see some fucking bullriding. Damn. Gotta see some bullriding. Let me go check that depressing airport bar where all the smokers have penned themselves in like caged dogs.

9:52PM
Well, why CAN’T you put on bullriding? You seriously telling me anyone in this city wants to see a Hawks game? The Hawks can scratch my balls, man. Man, fuck you. I’ll watch bullriding on my iPod.

9:55PM
Fucking iPod. You can do everything but recharge yourself.

10:00PM
Man, look at all these departing flights. There’s even one going to Sioux City. I didn’t even know people lived in Sioux City. I thought they called it a city as like a joke and shit. Ooooh, Paris! Damn, I’d like to go to Paris. I heard French whores are completely disaffected and will let you do anything. Seattle? Ain’t nothing but pasty fuckers there. Oh, man! MEXICO!!!!!!! I gotta go live in Mexico, man. They have hammocks. Hammocks are solid.

This wall of monitors is mesmerizing. I feel like a citizen of the world. There are people here from everywhere, man. It’s like a little mini-Earth of its own.

Holy shit, I just blew my own mind.

10:10PM
Guess I better go wait at the gate. What gate am I? E62? Where am I now? A49? Oh, SHIT.

10:15PM
I gotta get one of these moving walkways in my house. These things are incredible. I feel like I’m fast forwarding… THROUGH LIFE!

No wait! We need to install one in the new offense. Know how mobile I’d be cruisin’ past defenders on this bitch? God, we’re gonna go 16-0.

10:25PM
Man, this gate area’s crowded. I’m going to Hudson News.

10:26PM
Shit man, I gotta look at that Playboy’s Nudes. Is anyone around? I gotta wait for the shit to clear. Okay, I’m going in. They won’t notice if I tear the cellophane off.

Mmmmm, tits. Oh, yeah. Tits are my friend.

10:28PM
Man, where is Rolling Stone? All I see is Vanity Fair. Who the fuck reads that shit?

10:29PM
This gate area’s depressing. Where the fuck am I supposed to sit? These fucking old people put their bags all over the shit.

Christ, lady, control your fucking children! Can’t you see how miserable they’re making everyone? I’mma throw them out the jetway.

I wonder if that guy is done with that USA Today sports section.

Shit. He isn’t.

I can’t take this shit much longer.

10:35PM
OOOOH, an arcade!!!!!

10:40PM
Galaga, you are my BITCH.

11:15PM
(walks up to gate agent)

Hello, I’m Michael Vick. I believe I have a reservation for the 8:35 flight. I’m ready to board.

I’m sorry? It’s what time now?

Photo courtesy of The Onion.

Oh, God.

Oh, man.

Where am I?

Is this a party? Where’s the beer? No wait, hold up. I just need some water. I’m really dehydrated. Is there water here? Is that a cake?

That’s a nice cake. Man, I wanna stick my dick right in that cake. That would be a good cakeyfuck.

Pot is fucking great.

Is there any yogurt in here? Yogurt is fucking nice. Why is my arm bleeding? Fucking Mr. Home Depot don’t fix nothing right. Mustachioed asshole.

I think I need to just lay down and shit.

Oh, wow.

Hoo boy.

I feel so bloated.

Fuck me man, I am STONED. Woo! You ever get so stoned you get tunnel vision? My field of vision is the size of a fucking dime right now. Gotta get into this motherfuckin’ house. Where my keys?

(searches for keys, finds them in his pocket attached to an alligator bottle opener key chain)

Here they are! No wait, these are the keys to the house in Buckhead. Oh fuck.

Holy shit, I am wobbling.

Time to do some jimmyin’

(opens door with credit card)

Nice. Hey, Priscilla! I’m home, bitch! Where you at? Hey, why didn’t my alarm go off? And why is my fishbowl broken? And why is there furniture overturned in my living room? I never had furniture in my living room before. And where’s my 1000-carat diamond picture frame featuring me and Frank Beamer with Frank Beamer cropped out? And where did Marcus go? And how come there ain’t any Tyson’s Chicken nuggets in the freezer? And where’s that John Singer Sargent painting that my agent made me purchase?

Wait a second.

I know what this is.

I’m REALLY, REALLY fucking stoned!

Fuckin’ A. This is some good shit. One time I smoked up and saw a purple swan, but I ain’t ever seen shit like this. Unless I’m in the wrong house. I’m not in the wrong house, am I? Wait a second, I’m not that stoned. I smoked, like, six bowls. That ain’t shit.

Oh, man! I just came to a shocking realization!

MUTHAPHUCKKAS TOOK MY SHIT!!!!!!!

I’ve been robbed! Oh my God. I feel so violated, just like anyone who has to watch “Lil’ Bush”! Oh, I am fucking pissed. Nobody gets to violate me except for ME! I’mma fucking find whoever did this. Right after I watch this DVD of “House Party”. Public Enema? Who da hell wants a Public Enema! Ha ha ha! That shit cracks me up every time.

(goes into TV room and sees TV is missing)

Motherfucker! They took my TV! They even took the emergency TV in the study! NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! The fuck am I supposed to stare blankly at now? Shit, they even took all the pictures of me off the game wall! I’m so fucking mad. I’mma catch these fuckers, unless I have to watch tape in order to do it.

And where the fuck are my floor buffers?! I can’t enjoy this pleasant buzz when my floors have a matte finish! That’s why I kept TWO buffers in the house! This is ruining my shit! GAH!!!!!!!!!

All right, Mike. Just calm down. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just the Feds digging around for clandestine canine burial grounds. No big deal. They’re just stupid fucking dogs. No one gives a shit about that except Inspector Todd.

How could they have gotten in? No one could possibly crack my security code of 1-2-3-4. It’s so clever in its obviousness! God dammit! Fuckin’ Slomin’s Shield don’t shield shit! I wonder who did this. Was it Greg Knapp? I bet it was Greg Knapp. Assistants don’t make SHIT. Fuck him. Fuck that Knappy-headed ho. Better call 911.

Oh snap, wait. If I call 911, they’ll know I was smokin’ pot earlier. And they’ll know about that hermit I killed and bricked into the basement. And they’ll find my stash. And the room full of illegal Cambodian immigrants. And my ketchup. And all those crude landmines I tried to make out of Tide and used toilet paper rolls. Can’t call the cops! Only one man I can call.

Arthur Blank: Hello?

Hello, Mr. Home Depot Man! You fix shit, right? You a handyman?

Arthur Blank: No, Michael. I’m the CEO.

Yeah, well I need to C-E YO ass down at my place in VA. And I need you to bring a wet/dry vac because someone stole the toilet and I’m gonna have to piss on my own damn marble floor.

Arthur Blank: Michael, have you been smoking marijuana?

What? Uh, NO! This isn’t Mike. This is, uh, Keith Brooking. I’m like, white and shit. You must have reached me in error, sooth gentleman.

Arthur Blank: Michael, I know it’s you. It says so right on my calle…

I have to adjourn to the drawing room now. Good day, kind sir!

(hangs up)

I’mma just have to buy a new house now. Fuck this cleaning shit.

Photo courtesy of The Onion.

Via one of the savvy eBay entrepreneurs.

To be honest, trying to fill space during this interminable off-season can be vexing a real pain in the ass. That’s why KSK loves the godsend that is NFL’s new bossman, Roger Goodell. Rog has made it perfectly clear the axe swings on his schedule and at his pleasure– “due process” be damned. For all we know, at anytime Goodell may drop the bomb on Mike Vick with the gusto of Peter King demolishing a plate of canapés at the hospitality tent.

However, an unintended consequence of Roger Goodell’s new suspend-now-sort-out-the-legalities-later personnel conduct policy is that fans, sports radio and wiseacre sports bloggers can’t even consider waiting until the legal system runs its course before weighing in on the troubles of ne’er-do-wells like Pacman Jones and Mike Vick. . Under Rog’s stewardship, Vick may actually serve his suspension before the courts sort out this whole unseemly affair. Irrational speculation rules!!!

As the dogfight case continues to get worse and worse for Vick, the comedy keeps getting richer and richer in the comments of the FanHaus. (“YOU DON’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT BOXING, UFC AND ALL THAT OTHER CRAP AND HALF THESE CLOWNS TRYING TO GET VICK KNOW THEY WATCH THAT CRAZY SHIT TO, SO STOP FOOLING YOURSELF AND LEAVE THE MAN ALONE. MIDDLE“) The pro-Vick faction of this braintrust rally to preserve his sterling reputation, vociferously demanding restraint and patience before judging Vick. (“What happen to the days of being innocent until proven guilty???“) Let due process run its course, others insist. (“You guy’s are calling him all kinds of derogatory names and he hasn’t even been convicted in a court of law. Put your Klan appareal away for now, sheesh.”)

Not that the anti-Vick partisans are any more eloquent. (“Glad to hear it! Vick is in ass.“) There seems to be widespread belief in lex talionis among that bunch. (“lock his A#$ in a ring with the dogs he abused, starved and tortured or allowed them to be. Let those dogs tear him apart limb from limb like they so enjoy watching them do to each other.”)

If this mess marks the ends of Vick’s era as a productive NFL QB, then he can always fall back on canine pugilism. Some people would pay good money to see Johnnie Morton fight one of Ron Mexico’s dogs on pay-per-view. Certain advertisers would love it…