It turns out that Michael Vick's agent was completely out to lunch, because Nike has denied signing any deals with him. So it appears our dog kind of jumped the gun a bit when he excoriated them for doing so a few days ago.
Of course, there's also the conspiracy theory that Nike had given him a contract, but once they saw the vitriolic reaction (from everyone, not just this blog, obviously) they took it back. But I doubt it -- I think that Vick is looking for anyway to keep talking about him that doesn't involve the phrase "dog murderer" or "third-string quarterback," and his agent pulled a story directly from his ass. Nice try.
Showing posts with label football. Show all posts
Showing posts with label football. Show all posts
Friday, October 02, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
We Interrupt This Blog for a Message from Our Benefactor: Kobayashi, Dragon-Born Time-Traveling Ninja Dog from the Future
Anyway. It's come to my attention that sweatshop sneaker giant Nike has renewed their endorsement deal with third-string quarterback/dog murderer Michael Vick.
Yeah, fuck you, too, Nike.
And I know what you're gonna say before you say it, so don't bother telling me about how he's paid his debt to society. So has Squeaky Fromme, no one's asking her to sell Whoppers. What's next, you gonna let O.J. pitch rental cars again?
See people, there's difference between paying your debt to the law and paying your debt to society. Just because you're out of prison doesn't mean you're done. You get convicted of a felony, you can't vote. You can't own guns. And you know what? You shouldn't be able to sell sneakers for millions of dollars.
Because it ain't like he's trading on his football celebrity for these endorsements. In the last three years, you know how many games he's played? One. He's thrown only two more passes than I have this season, okay? He's not famous for being a football player anymore. He's famous for being a dog murderer. A dog torturer. So let's give him money to sell shoes again! Gotta capture that dog killer demo, I guess, right?
This wouldn't be so bad -- I mean, it'd still be bad, but not so ridiculous -- if Nike hadn't acted so damn swiftly and decisively when all this went down three years ago. They severed his contract at the time, you remember, because animal cruelty was "inhumane, abhorrent and unacceptable." He had a signature shoe, the Vick Dogstomper 3000 or something, they pulled it off the shelves. But now -- I guess it's not so bad, is it?
Don't get me wrong: I don't think Nike is in favor of torturing dogs. (Just the kids in their sweatshops.) I think that Nike only cares about their money. They didn't ditch Vick because of all that bullshit about animal cruelty, they did it because everyone hated him. And now that the reaction to his return hasn't been as "toxic" as expected, he's welcomed back. Because nothing matters but the fucking money.
Cruelty is cruelty. It doesn't matter if he did it to a bunch of dogs or a bunch of people. He's a horrible, horrible person. And Nike? I guess you're horrible, too.
So from now on, I won't be wearing your shoes.
Not that I wore them before. I'm a dog. I don't wear any shoes.
But I could wear them if I wanted to, is my point.
And I won't be.
(Kobi's opinions are his, obviously, and don't necessarily represent those of this blog's author. Though in this case, they pretty much do.)
Sunday, January 13, 2008
The triumph of Luigi
Hey, let's talk about football.
"I CAN HAS SHEW COMMERSHUL?"
I'm normally more or less indifferent to football. It's there, and I glance at it from time to time. But it's not something I follow closely, nor is it a topic on which I can often speak intelligently.
But I've actually been paying attention this season. And while watching an actual game is hardly an enthralling experience -- "And the Texans fail to convert on third down...again" -- I've become wrapped up in some of the teams and their stories. And holy crap, they're actually sort of interesting.
Like Eli Manning, the NFL's answer to Luigi. He's good, he's nice, people like him, but no matter what he does, he can't seem to escape the expansive shadow of his older brother, Mario. Or, in this case, Peyton.
You may be familiar with Peyton Manning. If not, turn on your TV. That's him. If there's a guy on camera, there's an 60% chance that it's Peyton Manning. If not, wait for the next commercial. Ah, there he is!
Peyton is a superstar. Peyton won a Super Bowl. Peyton helps old ladies cross the street. Peyton always saves the Princess and collects all the Yoshi coins and never uses warp zones.
Eli, by comparison, has led the New York Giants to precisely fuckall during his tenure as their quarterback. He's lounged behind, watching from his couch as Peyton dominates in the playoffs and defeats all the Koopa kids. (Let me know if I take this metaphor too far.) He seemed doomed to suffer a lifetime of comparisons to his brother, always to be found wanting.
Until today, that is. Today, Peyton fell short. Peyton got beat on his own turf and cashiered from the playoffs. And Eli -- immediately afterward -- lead his Giants to an upset victory over the vaunted Dallas Cowboys, in Dallas, to sent the Giants to the NFC title game.
"How you like me now, Peyton?"
As a longtime supporter of Luigi -- the video game one this time -- I wholeheartedly support Eli and the Giants, and wish them well against the Packers.
Of course, it doesn't matter who wins that game, because this season has been -- and will continue to be -- about one team: the Patriots.
So the Patriots were caught cheating earlier this year. They got busted illegally videotaping signals from the Jets' defensive coordinators, and NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell brought the hammer down. The coach was fined, the team was fined, and they had to surrender draft picks. Sure taught them a lesson, huh?
Except a strange thing happened. The Patriots -- already a phenomenal team -- turned savage. Tom Brady read defenses like he was telepathic. The defensive line was replaced by the armies of the Uruk'Hai. Randy Moss played like...Randy Moss. The entire squad become a merciless squadron, a venomous swarm of hornets, fighting to defend the honor of their maligned head coach, Bill Belichick, himself a rather savage competitor.
From that moment on, it wasn't enough for the Pats to win -- they had to leave their opponents bloodied and destroyed. Let no one ever again question the ability of the Patriots. Let no one ever again question the talents of their coach, the Hoodie. (Jim Rome often refers to Belichick by this nickname, citing the man's preference for hooded sweatshirts during games.)
Bill Belichick
So the Patriots crushed everybody. And it wasn't long before people started talking about them running the table -- actually finishing the season undefeated. And it was then that I started rooting for the Patriots. Passionately.
Why? Because the only other team to run the table was the 1972 Dolphins, who finished 14-0 in the regular season and went on to win the Super Bowl. How proud are they of this accomplishment? Each year since, the members of that team get together and have a party once the last undefeated team is brought aground. Yes, a bunch of old guys have a party to celebrate someone else's failure. Clearly, this vile bunch of douchebags needs to be ripped of their reason to live. Enter my new favorite team, the New England Patriots, who can not only pull off what the Dolphins did, but do it better -- they play sixteen games these days.
So yeah -- it turns out football is actually pretty compelling. At least, as long as you can avoid sitting down and watching the games.
Hey, with baseball in the offseason and mired in a steroids scandal, I have to have something. I'll take the Patriots breaking the hearts of a bunch of soulless old men.
Next up: basketball!
(Er...actually, not.)
----------------
Now playing: Genesis - Dance on a Volcano
via FoxyTunes
I'm normally more or less indifferent to football. It's there, and I glance at it from time to time. But it's not something I follow closely, nor is it a topic on which I can often speak intelligently.
But I've actually been paying attention this season. And while watching an actual game is hardly an enthralling experience -- "And the Texans fail to convert on third down...again" -- I've become wrapped up in some of the teams and their stories. And holy crap, they're actually sort of interesting.
Like Eli Manning, the NFL's answer to Luigi. He's good, he's nice, people like him, but no matter what he does, he can't seem to escape the expansive shadow of his older brother, Mario. Or, in this case, Peyton.
You may be familiar with Peyton Manning. If not, turn on your TV. That's him. If there's a guy on camera, there's an 60% chance that it's Peyton Manning. If not, wait for the next commercial. Ah, there he is!
Peyton is a superstar. Peyton won a Super Bowl. Peyton helps old ladies cross the street. Peyton always saves the Princess and collects all the Yoshi coins and never uses warp zones.
Eli, by comparison, has led the New York Giants to precisely fuckall during his tenure as their quarterback. He's lounged behind, watching from his couch as Peyton dominates in the playoffs and defeats all the Koopa kids. (Let me know if I take this metaphor too far.) He seemed doomed to suffer a lifetime of comparisons to his brother, always to be found wanting.
Until today, that is. Today, Peyton fell short. Peyton got beat on his own turf and cashiered from the playoffs. And Eli -- immediately afterward -- lead his Giants to an upset victory over the vaunted Dallas Cowboys, in Dallas, to sent the Giants to the NFC title game.
"How you like me now, Peyton?"
As a longtime supporter of Luigi -- the video game one this time -- I wholeheartedly support Eli and the Giants, and wish them well against the Packers.
Of course, it doesn't matter who wins that game, because this season has been -- and will continue to be -- about one team: the Patriots.
So the Patriots were caught cheating earlier this year. They got busted illegally videotaping signals from the Jets' defensive coordinators, and NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell brought the hammer down. The coach was fined, the team was fined, and they had to surrender draft picks. Sure taught them a lesson, huh?
Except a strange thing happened. The Patriots -- already a phenomenal team -- turned savage. Tom Brady read defenses like he was telepathic. The defensive line was replaced by the armies of the Uruk'Hai. Randy Moss played like...Randy Moss. The entire squad become a merciless squadron, a venomous swarm of hornets, fighting to defend the honor of their maligned head coach, Bill Belichick, himself a rather savage competitor.
From that moment on, it wasn't enough for the Pats to win -- they had to leave their opponents bloodied and destroyed. Let no one ever again question the ability of the Patriots. Let no one ever again question the talents of their coach, the Hoodie. (Jim Rome often refers to Belichick by this nickname, citing the man's preference for hooded sweatshirts during games.)
So the Patriots crushed everybody. And it wasn't long before people started talking about them running the table -- actually finishing the season undefeated. And it was then that I started rooting for the Patriots. Passionately.
Why? Because the only other team to run the table was the 1972 Dolphins, who finished 14-0 in the regular season and went on to win the Super Bowl. How proud are they of this accomplishment? Each year since, the members of that team get together and have a party once the last undefeated team is brought aground. Yes, a bunch of old guys have a party to celebrate someone else's failure. Clearly, this vile bunch of douchebags needs to be ripped of their reason to live. Enter my new favorite team, the New England Patriots, who can not only pull off what the Dolphins did, but do it better -- they play sixteen games these days.
So yeah -- it turns out football is actually pretty compelling. At least, as long as you can avoid sitting down and watching the games.
Hey, with baseball in the offseason and mired in a steroids scandal, I have to have something. I'll take the Patriots breaking the hearts of a bunch of soulless old men.
Next up: basketball!
(Er...actually, not.)
----------------
Now playing: Genesis - Dance on a Volcano
via FoxyTunes
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
