THE OFFICIAL ORDER OF WHO WHITE PEOPLE LOVE

1) Other white people

2) Dogs

3) Niggas

Let me start by saying this. Michael Vick is a freaking dumb ass. Not because he's into dogfighting, but because he couldn't find a new hobby. The other reason he's a dumb ass? He wants to stunt and probably showed up to these illegal gatherings wearing his Falcons jersey.

Now, let's just say hypothetically, I was a rich man. You gave me a wad of money and told me I could put money on any sporting event I want. You know what I would do? I'd go to the type of fighting white people enjoy - a boxing match. You see, two ninjas beating the shit out of each other is way more humane than watching two dogs who don't know any better biting at each other's throats. When Mike Tyson was roaming the streets of Brooklyn acting like a pit bull, terrorizing the streets, you know what they did to him? They put him in a ring and told that ninja to fight for his life. He got rich. White people got rich. It was a win-win. But dogs are different. White people don't get rich off of dogs fighting, they get rich off dog pageants and shit like Lassie.

But, let's just say for some reason I'm not into watching my brothers and some spaniards knocking each others brains out. Let's say that I do genuinely like to see pit bulls fuck each other up. And let's just say, I'm still as rich as I was when I went to the boxing matches. My whole approach to watching a dog fight changes once you give me millions of dollars. The most drastic change is you're not going to see my muh'fuckin face at a dog fight anymore. Oh, you'll see my money, but you won't see me sitting there in the middle of the shit rooting for Brutus to fuck Killer's throat up. If I go to a dog fight, I'm requesting a VIP suite, with tinted windows with cameras that feed the action right onto my special flat screen I have in the VIP suite.

A better idea, I won't go to the dogfights at all, I'll just get the same dudes who cop my weed to go to the dog fights for me, make their picks, and if they make the wrong picks, I hire some new people who can cop my weed and make good dog fighting picks. All the while, I'm sitting down in my mansion where I raise a family of golden retrievers and feed them some muh'fuckin Purina Puppy Chow and smothered onions over filet mignon.

The other thing that really makes me raise my eyebrows about this whole thing is who the fuck are these guys that's actually betting on the same games as Michael Vick? Where is their money coming from and what's the buy in? Is it five dollars? Because if I was betting on dog fights, $5 is my buy in limit, and I actually have a good job. But Michael Vick? He's a millionaire. Legally. If we were in a casino, he's not playing at the same table as Tyrone and 'em. He's in a private room with some ninja named Humphrey dealing and two hedge fund managers as his opponents. I mean, if you're on the corner playing a dice game, and Michael Vick rolls up on it talking about, "I want in." How many ninjas do you think are staying around? One, maybe two, tops. As far as I'm concerned, the dog fighting gatherings Michael Vick attended aren't the crime, they're the clue. The clue to much bigger crimes like I don't know, killings over money and drug dealing.

And any black person that is choosing the dog over the athlete is a dillusional, out-of-touch, Uncle Tom. Russell Simmons, you are this person. I have news for you Russell, in my own life of black existence, I have probably met three to five black millionaires in person. But just last week alone, I saw four pit bulls roaming my neighborhood in Harlem. Thus, there are way more pit bulls out there than black millionaires, and if you're busy trying to uplift th dog, you need to go back to the drawing board.

Like I said, Michael Vick is a dumb ass for doing what he did, but someone has to explain to me how Dick Cheney can go hunting for geese, turn around and "accidentally" shoot a human being, and still be Vice President. Meanwhile, Michael Vick can allegedly be involved in dog fighting and they're threatening to never let him touch a pigskin again.
For more irony about this whole situation, go read the Rezidue.