Cultural Imperialist

"Scathing Spats on Shallow Subjects"


Fri Jul 28



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Taking the Pussy(cat) out of Puppy

Greg Piper

The point of vicking, ultimately, isn't to put your dog through a slightly less pointless sideshow than Bachelor Pad, but to give him the virtues that made pooches man's best friend to start.

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We can all agree that Michael Vick took his dogfighting ring too far.  The NFL player used his distaste for "Turner & Hooch," which we all share, as a pretext to mistreat and profit off the horrible disfigurement of creatures around the country, putting him in league with Linda McMahon.

But let's not rush to toss the puppy out with the bloodbath water. Lazy American dogs can improve themselves through a carefully tailored regimen of vicking, and we mustn't let a puptz like Jeremiah coddle our collies, larding them with Beggin Strips, tummy rubs and exhibitionist displays of lovemaking with Mrs. Imperialist. It's a hard-dog life, you metrosexual Mastiffbator.

A glass-shattering whine penetrated my careful concentration at a coffee shop recently, most likely expunging from my brain a brilliant and witty piece for Cultural Imperialist that could have inflamed Osama for Mullah Omar's love cave. What caused the ruckus? A retriever, or some such breed, hysterically panicked because its owner disappeared for 30 seconds to caffeinate.

"Who's a good boy?" flabbening is the culprit for turning dogs into the animal kingdom's biggest pussy(cat). We give dogs squeaky toys, NASA-developed dog food, and the love reserved for children in other societies. They bark at each other pointlessly like Joy and Whoopi, make a big show of crapping in public, and enjoy glowing praise for sitting down and shutting up, previously reserved for girls in finishing school.

Vicking doesn't have to be unduly violent. You can put corks on the dogs' teeth, just like Big Daddy did to the "warning" crocodile he sent to Chief Wiggum and Skinny Boy, so that they can''t puncture each other's flesh. Having fought to exhaustion, suffering only mild bruises from cork-jabbing, the dogs will build the character necessary to defend their masters against real threats, like campaign workers canvassing the neighborhood ahead of midterm elections. If you don't own other dogs and can't borrow from your neighbors, put on boxing gloves and jab your dog's face for 10 minutes, then stick him in front of the TV while you play Mike Tyson's Punch-Out.

The right trainer, using a mix of inspiration and mailman effigies, can bring out the bloodthirsty biter in a dog without sending it to Surry County, Virginia. Montgomery Burns provides a good example of ethical training, appropriating A Clockwork Orange to make the Simpsons' dog into a Spartan sensation. Gerard Butler and his bared teeth could whip a pack of pansy pups into shape so fast that Ahmadinejoke and his Perversians would high-tail it out of Iran for greener pastures at Sean Penn's house.

The point of vicking, ultimately, isn't to put your dog through a slightly less pointless sideshow than Bachelor Pad, but to give him the virtues that made pooches man's best friend to start. Dogs have historically saved lives, guarded commerce and raised TV ratings. Will we let them devolve into creatures more pampered and effeminate than the average American boy?

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In the Dawghouse

Jeremiah Lewis


It's time to stop playing ruff and get back to spiritual morals and decent living. What kind of America do we live in when people not only think dog fighting is cool, they'll even pay to have Michael Vick emcee a cage match between some mangy old Texas hound and a rottweiler named Bruiser? Not my America.

My America knows better. My America rightly shuns Michael Vick for his canine criminality, for his rampant and distasteful gluttony for the savagery of this underground dog-eat-dog world, for his ghetto-chic approval of purebred bloodsport. And there's Greg over to my left, practically putting  a spiked collar on his little chihuahua and withholding food from it as we speak.

If only Jack London could see you now, Greg. He'd have a few choice words for you before stomping off to die of uremic poisoning, which isn't as fun as it sounds.

As for Michael Vick, whose days of rubbing nose-to-butt with the athletic media machine is now mostly forgotten, he's no doubt sorry... he got caught, that is. Look at the man. He's fierce. He's a burgeoning evil David Keith, a black Bark Vader whose animal antics even the anti-PETA crowd can love to hate. For once, I'm with PETA.

"Vicking" is a horrible, appalling practice made even more heinous by the recent mass raping of over 150 women near a nearby UN rebel base--I mean, a UN base, which the Congolese rebels were near when they performed their sexual rampage. Now, would you approve of Michael Vick flying to the Congo or Rwanda to instigate and become the heavyweight of underground rape clubs? What about the Michael Vick Elephant Poaching Invitational, is that more palatable? It is just Tracy Jordan enough to work.

You might say your teeth are yellow because you eat too much Asian, but I say it's because you're afraid to stand up to the animals who abuse animals. If McGruff were here he'd tell you take a bite out of Mike, even if it means not being the most pupular kid in school for narcing on the star quarterback.

Vicking, kicking, whipping, sticking, hitting, and otherwise pitting one dog against another is the moral equivalence of gang rape, forced sodomy, unsolicited teabagging, and Wayne Newton. It's no different than cockfighting in the Philippines, bear-baiting in ye olde England, camel racing in Arabia, or Jew hunting in Germany. The natural extension of cruelty to animals is increased cruelty to people; the diminishment of the dignity of the canine species in the horror of the caged fighting ring at the hands of tomorrow's gladiatorial class is the last gasp of a barbaric and doomed culture.

That's why it's so nice to see people up in arms about it. Shows America's moral resilience. Even when one of our (sports)heroes falls, we have the fortitude of our beliefs to make us stalwart, to stand up and yell a resounding "No!" even if we lack the collective will to enact any actual change. But Vick's dog fighting did make it all the way to the Senate floor, which shows just how seriously we take our football.

Maybe Greg should start licking his own genitals instead of encouraging more vicking in our society. After all, it's what he does best.

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