I have mice in my apartment. I’m thinking of capturing several of them and starting a mice-fighting den in my landlord's basement. I’m going to starve them, hang them with little bits of string, and expose them to intense stimuli to encourage aggressive behavior. Then I’m going to invite some friends over, get some beer, and have a good ol’ night of mice-fighting action.
If the authorities find out, what do you think I’ll get? One or two years in jail? What if I did it with fish? Maybe Siamese fighting fish. How much then?
To be honest, I could really give a shit about the Michael Vick dog fighting case. I don’t advocate cruelty to animals, and I think it should be discouraged. Do I think a man should go to jail and lose millions over it? No, I don’t.
At the end of the day, Michael Vick will probably get one or two years of jail time and some hefty fines. That’s OK by me, although I probably would have been more lenient. What is absolutely crazy is the uproar that the case is causing, egged on by the national media. It is the definition of absurdity that hanging and drowning pit bulls causes half the nation to foam at the mouth, while human fetuses are burned to death by solutions of salt water or dismembered by vacuum suction and nobody raises an eyebrow. I say it again, it is the definition of absurdity.
What makes life valuable? Why do these dogs cause us to shed a tear? Don’t get me wrong; I have a dog. Annabelle’s great. But I have no trouble confusing the value of her life with the value of a human life. I’m not so sure about the rest of my compatriots.
Sometimes I walk around thinking, “Am I crazy?” Things like this make me realize that I’m not the crazy one. It’s the other 349,999,999 fucking people in this country.