Loland Kapuchinski: Devil's Advocate

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I came up with a great idea for something to be on everyone's bad side about. Michael Vick. Okay, I stole it from Bryant Gumbel on Real Sports.

Originally I was a big fan of the harshness on Michael Vick. Still bitter about the playoff game he won singlehandedly and at Lambeau. Plus Vick is a rich person. I fit central heating, (I've done it now for years. Anyone?) Sometimes I don't buy the hot sauce I like the most, Tabasco, because it is so expensive and I use a lot of hot sauce. So I buy the cheap sauce and feel justified in enjoying the hammer-down on a person who probably has a Tabasco fountain in his bedroom.

I am an animal lover. There is a bar in Chicago that's earned my enmity for the way they treat their moose head. Maybe it's the Comanche in me. It is a noble animal and holiday lights should not be strung around its massive antlers. It should not have fairground oversized sunglasses on it. Sunglasses do not belong on animals! I am against even the bandito moustache. I would sit at the bar, honoring his spirit, thinking "If this moose was alive, he would kill all of you hippies... I hope some skanky girls come in."

I was in Central America and the whole run we were trying to find underground fights or cock fights. This is a request we whispered to taxi drivers. We still offended some cab drivers' sensibilities. One of the cab drivers tried to dissuade us. "No, no. Young girls? 15, 14. Do anything!" he procured. There were teenage girls everywhere who looked like they'd gotten into their mother's makeup. They were standing outside in their underwear at night. Cock fighting was illegal though, and frowned upon.

I am an animal lover and I don't just like the happy things about animals. I love baby bunnies because they're the bunniest -- but I also love to watch animals kill other animals on nature specials. The eternal struggle for survival is the neat part of life in the state of nature. Solitary and poor? Bleh. But nasty, brutish, and short? Fascinating, and a real connection to the animal world. Pet dogs are like how reality TV compares to reality. They are butt-shadows in the cave of the dog. Eunuchs inbred for docility, in complete antithesis to their vital essence. Robbed of blood and cum and shamed and scared into submission to us, to become fat and slug around the apartment until it needs to rest its head on the ottoman from boredom.

Bullbaiting? Bearbaiting? How great would that be? I would root for the dogs, I think, unless there were too many for the brute being baited and it seemed unfair. I bet those dogs, when they fight that bear, would have the best time. When the Hive-mind from the Dyson Ellipse around Mu Arae enslaves humankind and breeds millions of miniature Paris Hiltons, I hope I will be one of the lucky ones who is pitted unsportingly against the nine-tusked Blarg in the sacred ancient battle dome. Oh sure, Loland's crazy because his panties don't get in knots about dog fighting. You know what? You're crazy! You are the crazy one! You watch reality TV and you visit prostitutes and you think dogs belong in a condo.

I have never seen a dogfight. I didn't like Amores Perros but that movie had an anti-dog-killing agenda. I might not like it. I didn't grow up in the ghetto, though. When did that excuse stop holding water? Cripes! I totally forgot to diss PETA. They steal money from legitimate organizations like SPCAs to have ads with nude celebrities who also have a new movie or sitcom coming out or models so dumb their only voice comes from appearing naked. Penn and Teller do it to it:

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