get at me dog!

last week, Washington Redskins running back Clinton Portis, in response to the whole Michael Vick dogfighting ring bruhaha, stated that Vick did nothing wrong despite the allegations of violating a federal law. Portis: "I think there's bigger issues in the world and in life than what Michael Vick's doing on his own property... Hunting is legal."

of course the mainstream media, including ESPN, got their bloomers in a bunch over Portis's rather glib response. what the fuck did they expect? this is a guy who goes to press conferences dressed like Blackula. he's an absolute character, and quite frankly, the League needs more like him.

i admit that i'm inclined to agree with Portis, on the grounds that a. i have nothing but contempt for the neoclassical "City on the Hill" and their "lawz," and b. i was thissss close to getting in on the dog fighting circuit.

my cousin and i went in together on a venture to start breeding pitbulls some years ago, but he bounced for the navy before things really got to jumpin. as we're both huge scumbags, i'm pretty sure that dog breeding would've devolved into dog fighting eventually. his basement was fucking huge.

but one thing kinda makes me hesitant to concur with Mr. Portis. a news story from these parts from a few years ago. West Baltimore. an escaped fighting dog, desperately hungry, raging out on account of years of abuse and neglect, bites a guy's balls off. FUCK! the story stuck with me enough to make me think twice about the threat to public safety that is this breed. it also inspired my as yet untitled short story, a heartwarming tale about a wayward cougar, an unfortunate suburban soul, and an experimental bionic vagina. you can read it HERE if you're really that fucking needy.

and as for the YouTube video, i mean come on?! fucken ay! DMX, 1998? before hip-hop/rap was admitted to the convalescent home? i remember my introduction to DarkMan X. summer of that year. conned my mom into buying a SOURCE Magazine, even though my rents didn't like me listening to/reading about "offensive" music. first 20 pages of the mag are ads of course, and right there near the end of the parade, fucking full page blast of beastness.

camera's looking up at him, so as to make him into some sort of projects-born Leviathan. holding two enormous pitbulls on taut chain-leashes with 1.5 inch links.
in other words, just the kind of imagery a young black pre-teen needs to get himself into a lot of trouble.

i remember back in middle school, going to "mixers" and shit. my friends and i desperately wanting to emulate the DMX look. so what do we do? we shave our heads, wear wifebeaters incessantly, and cop the big silver chains he used to rock back in the "It's Dark and Hell is Hot" days. lots of fights as a result. lots of indiscriminate barking too. remember that shit? worked out well, till our necks turned green from the cheap silver.