I have to admit that between work and playing Xbox 360, I am having a lot of problems thinking of subjects to write about. I really don't want to maintain a journal and write about my own life too much. Hell, that even bores me. So, I'll try to come up with a few topics that I can write a weekly column about. I hope that this will help me a bit in achieving my goal of writing something every day. If you can think of a good subject or theme to write a weekly on, let me know.
Fridays are when I award the Sphincter Mouse of the Week Award. This column will cover one person every week who I consider among the worst human beings on the face of the planet. Usually I will award it as a result of something they did that week or at something that at least happened recently.
According to UrbanDictionary.com, a sphincter mouse is “A mouse that digs away at the intestines of its host. Usually it materializes magically in ones ass.” The whole notion of a sphincter mouse is absolutely dreadful to me; the mere thought of it makes my stomach turn and toes curl. This is actually pretty similar to the reaction I have when the name of the Sphincter Mouse of the Week winner is mentioned. Calling this individual a measly jackass or shithead is an insult to all the jackasses and shitheads of the universe. I needed a title so appalling that it matches just how much this person nauseates me.
And now the inaugural Zenestex.com Sphincter Mouse of the Week award goes to none other than Atlanta Falcons “Quarterback” Michael Vick.
Michael Vick: He has herpes.
Mr. Mexico is one of the highest paid players in the NFL, a superstar athlete, a celebrity, and he was living my dream. That is until the douche bag decided that he likes watching dogs maul each other to death. The fact that he “quarterbacks” (usually NFL quarterbacks can, in fact, throw the ball) one of the Bucs' biggest rivals has nothing to do with the award; it's the fact that he threw away everything for something as despicable as torturing dogs.
This story is repulsive on multiple levels for me. For one, I love animals and can't stand watching any animal suffer. I even hate killing the caterpillars that chew my plants down to a nub—gives me nightmares. Anyone who tortures animals should be tied up, dipped in honey, thrown on a fucking ant pile, and left to die a slow miserable death.
This whole story also sickens out of pure jealousy. I love football. Growing up all I ever wanted to do was to play for the Gators and then the Bucs. I refused to even consider any career other than football, which is probably why I changed my major twelve or so times in college. Unfortunately for me I'm short, skinny, and slow; I couldn't even make the University of Florida scout team. It just infuriates me to see gifted athletes like Mike Vick throw away everything by acting like a complete prick. I would have given damn near anything to have even a fraction of his talent.
This is from me to you, Mr. Mexico: You are such an asshat that even Al—freakin'—Sharpton is calling you out. I truly hope you never play another down of football again in your life. You have no right to play a game for a living, much less live period. However, the odds are good that you'll simply buy your way out of this with some nice expensive lawyering. If that's the case, I can assure you that I will not buy anything that you endorse or watch any game you play in except against the Bucs. If you show up on ESPN Sportscenter wearing anything other than prison jumpers, I will change the channel and not flip back. If you ever walk into Raymond James Stadium again I, along with 60,000 of my closest friends, will boo you without mercy and curse you to hell for the entire three hours that your sorry ass is on that field. And I just dare you to flip me off like you did to your own fans.