I don’t condone Michael Vick’s involvement in dogfighting, but why traduce him instead of vilifying Kobe Bryant over his involvement with another woman in his blatant one-night stand in which he cheated on his wife in 2003?

What Vick did was stupid and lacked so many morals, but on top of that, Kobe lacked just as many — if not more — morals in what he did. Sure, several athletes cheat on their wives, but how many publicly admit it? I don’t give a damn if Kobe was coerced to admit it just because he was being charged with rape. It doesn’t matter. He did what he did.

Vick did what he did for fun — he watched dogs fight and accrued, to him, anyway, being a millionaire at the time, a couple of thousands of dollars. He watched dogs do what they are predisposed to do when faced toward each other (geared up with their animalistic natural selective and dominant behavior): FIGHT.

I can’t stand animal cruelty, but what bothers me almost as bad is animal activists who are still trying to keep Michael Vick from playing in the NFL. Look: Vick paid his debt to society and is now being given a second chance. Do you really want his life to be completely shut down over his monetary investment in watching dogs get tango? That’s a little frivolous.

Kobe Bryant never made up for cheating on his wife, unless you count buying her a load of jewelry and a brand new BMW or Mercedes, then sure, whatever. But you know what they say, boys and girls, money can’t buy love. And instead of Kobe being hated tremendously by the majority of NBA fans, he’s loved and the center of the attention, and currently being showered with compliments as he plays for the NBA champion Los Angeles Lakers.

What a crock of bullshit. The morals in America are way down if we are celebrating an adulterer and continuously hating (not just disliking, but HATING) on a guy who made a stupid mistake but justifully paid his debt to society.

Although I’m not a Philadelphia Eagles fan, I’m rooting for Mike Vick to play his heart out and utilize his second chance to the fullest. He’s Vick, he’s quick and ready to roll.

At least he’s not a self-aggrandized prick like Kobe Bryant.

Yeah, I know people are going to read this and think I’m just hating on Kobe, but that’s besides the fact. I’m just trying to prove a point and put my thoughts out here: Vick, a guy who watched dogs fight and PAID HIS DEBT BY GOING TO PRISON ACCEPTING THE CONSEQUENCES OF HIS ACTIONS, is being vilified while Kobe Bryant, who CHEATED on his WIFE in a one night stand in 2003, is being paraded with benevolent bows and bend-overs (HAHA!) by fans and ignorant sportswriters.

What’s this world coming to?

Terrell Owens, the media phenomenon whose name is more pastiche in the media world than any other name you can ever find, is at it again — attacking the media for attacking him and further ameliorating the aforementioned phenomenon of his.

I don’t blame Terrell, actually. I just read some article on ESPN.com that was written by some guy with the last name Graham — the dude’s name isn’t important; he’s just some media-asshole hack who’s trying to make a bigger name for himself by joining the long list of media pundits who have blasted Owens ever since he came into the NFL.

If I were Terrell Owens, I wouldn’t give two half-wit shits about the ‘dastardly’ media. I’d be tired of answering a bunch of questions honestly and being blasted for it. Throwing teammates under the bus and all that jazz — it’s all a bunch of distorted garbage that was commenced by the media in the first place.

Sure, Terrell Owens is a sensitive asshole who’s egotistical and acts like he’s the greatest thing on earth since Jesus, but the media has propagated his image of being a pariah to the media to the point that every sportswriter in America is conjuring new ways to emasculate him like a man being owned by his wife. To put the last sentence in layman’s terms, the media = the bitch and Terrell Owens = the male entity. But what it all means is simple: Terrell Owens is the media’s bitch — just like the title clearly emits!

Owens can’t do anything to rekindle his reputation in the media. He can do a lot of charity work, praise Trent Edwards until Edwards’ brain explodes while being sacked by Jason Taylor, or even teach young football players to drop footballs at a record breaking pace! The point, blank, bottom line is that Owens is a scapegoat in the sports media, and dumbasses like the guy from ESPN won’t leave him alone.

I’m not a T.O. sycophant, but I’m not going to sit here and bash the holy hell out of him just because he doesn’t give a damn about answering the media. The dumbass from ESPN that I was writing about earlier wrote that Owens owes it to the fans who spent $80 dollars on buying his Buffalo Bills’ jersey, but that’s irrelevant — Owens doesn’t own anybody jack shit for their decisions to spend money on some Bills jersey with his worthless name and respective number stitched on the back!

Holy hell, people kill me!

The boys and girls from the media are extolling the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim for what they did after they defeated the Texas Rangers last night 11-0 to win their third consecutive A.L. West divisional championship.

What did they do? Oh, I’ll get to that in a second. The Angels paraded around the field and celebrated with fans, and then commenced to do what they have did all season (pay tribute to the subject I’m about to inure in this post), or, well, ever since the young, passionate Nick Adenhart was sadly taken from the world by a drunk driver in April.

In the locker room, the Angels held up Adenhart’s jersey and proceeded to douse it with BEER and WINE. Ironic, huh? I mean, here you have one of your young, talented pitchers killed in a DRUNK DRIVING car accident and you’re pouring ALCOHOL (which being DRUNK is derived from drinking ALCOHOL) on HIS JERSEY?

What a bastardly thing to do.

And ESPN is anointing the Angels as being respectful? Yeaaaaaaaah, they sure are germane to the subject of Adenhart being killed by a drunk driver by pouring alcohol on his jersey, but they’re hardly being respectful.

As they have been doing ever since they entered the Atlantic Coastal Conference in 2004, the Virginia Tech Hokies are the head of the class in the ACC. No surprise. The Hokies “UPSET” the Miami Hurricanes this afternoon 31-7.

What I don’t understand is why there were so many dumbass analysts, pundits and moronic fans all in between running their mouths about how the Canes were going to come into BLACKSBURG, VIRGINIA and beat the HOKIES, when the weather was expected to be 30 degrees lower than what the Canes were used to in their heated pot of a hole that is Miami, Florida.

All Miami did was narrowly defeat a whimsical Florida State Seminoles team and exact revenge on a sporadic Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets team. Yet the Hokies, who played tough against the Alabama Crimson Tide and led for a solid portion of the game and were also coming off a tough and emotional win against the Nebraska Cornhuskers, were touted as being the underdogs against the Canes.

Ah, such irony, that the Hokies whipped that Hurricane ass and exposed Miami quarterback Jacory Harris as what he truly is: a poor man’s Pat White who’s skinnier than an iota of a string bean! Ha!

The “U?” Who are “U,” Jacory Harris? HOKIE, HOKIE, HOKIE, HI. HOKIE, HOKIE, HOKIE WHIP THAT HURRICANE ASS, BABY!

As usual, the Hokies run the table in the ACC.

“All Men Live Lives of Quiet Desperation.”

Those are the words of a beaten man accepting failure. Fuck that. I disagree with every ounce of my being. Win or lose, I will never give up the fight. The only way your life is one of quiet desperation is if you let it become that way. I, for one, say No. I will never lead that life. I will always try, I will always put every piece of my being into my dream, I will always demand a destiny I think I deserve and then I will spend every moment and ounce of energy I have trying to reach it. I will never just settle. Settling is for losers. I would would rather give it my very best shot and fail, then never try.

If you haven’t realized it by now, you will realize soon enough that a lot of people out there tiptoe through their lives, unsure of who they are or what they want, blindly following the demands of society, never truly finding themselves or their calling, until they arrive quietly at their death.

I refuse to tiptoe through life and arrive quietly at my death. I decided a long time ago that I would not be one of those guys. That no matter how much effort or pain or sacrifice it took, I refused to settle. I refused to not actively take part in my life, instead of just going with the flow and finding myself in a place where I looked up and thought “I am so unhappy with my life. How did I get here?”

But here’s the thing: It is very easy to get there without realizing how you got there. Maybe our culture does a poor job of making its youth understand that getting life right is very hard. I can’t stand people my age. I’m young, but I’ve been through so many challenging bouts in life up to this point where I have matured and REFUSE to make excuses by blaming others and outside elements.

It requires a lot of skills to be a success. More than anything, it demands that you be two things: determined to find a path to your personal success, and courageous enough to take it, despite the consequences. Think to yourself: How many people do you know that you can really describe that way? Not many.

That’s the bad news. The good news is that it’s a choice. Success truly is a choice. Every single day, with every single action and every single decision, you pick your own path. Do you read something that educates you instead of watching your tenth Seinfeld rerun? That’s a choice. Do you go exercise like you want to, or do you just drink a Diet Coke and sit on the sofa? That’s a choice. Do you start writing like you’ve always said you wanted to, or do you just put it off for another day? That is a choice. Do you better your life by enhancing vital and meaningful skills that will complement everything that you do or do you sit around and play NCAA Football 2010 online all day? That is a choice. When you are arguing with the girl or woman of your dreams that you love and you have been arguing with her for several times in several days, do you give up and stop talking to her or do you ride out the storm, reconcile and make things better by climbing over tough obstacles? Every day you make hundreds of these choices, and when you are 50 and look up to find yourself in a shitty life that you don’t like, you have no one to blame but yourself.

All of you are a bunch of slaves to your own willpower, but furthermore, you are society’s bitch. You pay an excessive amount for shit you don’t even need instead of paying your car payment, and then you wonder why life is so tough. Yeah, sure, I’m only 18 and have no financial responsibilities at the moment, but I sure as hell know what I’m talking about. You dumbfucks who claim you’re so wise, go ahead and prove me wrong. You are all a bunch of dumbasses who live to love to bash me and those who are right, only because you want to flaunt your age, your life, and your bullshit vanity puff facade that is running tired.

Want to be successful? If so, then stop blaming other people for your life fuckups, quit making excuses, and take control of YOUR life. It’s the most challenging problem you will face in the neartime future, but it’s worthwhile. To me, anyway. To you it’s probably nothing more than a briefly prominent idea that appears to have meaning to you until you wake up tomorrow morning, throwing back beers and pathetically getting overly pissed off at an NFL franchise who couldn’t care two less halfwit shits about you.

My eyes wither at the thought of rain decaying the day
The idea of grass in the Southwest Virginia meadow eroding
Sorrow and regret acutely inducing my every thought
As thunder speaks more words with its rumble than me

Gloomy isolation is a mere intricacy of depression
Sweeping the sky over
Overtaking the battle with the sunshine
Winning and running its course

Oh so gentle sunrise
Where does it appear?
All I see is rain
Signifying death and irrational fear

Morose feelings embedded in my veins
Not an iota of happiness
Forget even the sparsest amount
For today is deemed sinister

I don’t smoke cigarettes and I plan to never smoke cigarettes. It’s a vice and one or two will gradually turn into a habitual use of over hundreds to near thousands of them being toked in over a year’s worth of time.

But I’m not here to rant about my disdain for smoking itself, because that would be a foolish and overdone topic that everybody has heard about for practically billions of years. Those of you who are constantly complaining about cigarettes can take a freshly brewed cup of shut the hell up, sit down and watch professional rock, paper, scissors contests on ESPN2.

People who bitch about smokers smoking in public areas whereas smoking is allowed are idiots. If you aren’t in a restricted area where the said smoker is breathing nicotine residue that’s exhaled through the exhaust of cigarette smoke directly into your face, you have no room (pun unintended) to complain!

I have a couple of family members who smoke who, on occasion, run into some dumbasses outside of some store somewhere, where the dumbasses will make some idiotically, failure of being sarcastic remark about the cigarette smoking and how they can barely breathe, WHEN THEY CAN WALK TO SOME OTHER AREA AND STAND. It is one who smokes’ right to smoke whenever they please if it is in the legal area to do so. So, those who bitch and complain can shut the hell up for the love of all the dumbasses in the land.

Figuratively and fantastically speaking, if I were a smoker, I would end up whipping somebody’s brain-cell-reduced ass for running their mouths about something I would be doing. Whether it’s a vice of mine or not, it would be my problem and not some loud-mouth stranger’s to fix it.

MOVE SOMEWHERE ELSE AND SHUT THE HELL UP.

That’s why I hate the majority of people I come into contact with: everybody is so selfish and cares about their own needs due to their inability to grasp with death. Don’t blame religion or the way they were brought up, just blame their own individual intolerance to inuring common sense and their most important tool that’s located in their heads: THE BRAIN! Nobody has one anymore!

I’m glad that those smokers in my family haven’t lost their minds over morons trying to dictate their lives when it comes to smoking, because if I were either one of them, I would have already hauled off and knocked somebody’s stuck-up ass to the ground, and possibly through it, all the way to hell, and then I’d borrow a fishing pole from a man named Doug and reel them back up to earth so I could do it all over again.

I swear, some of you people live in a box. I bet a lot of you are a bunch of politically correct idiots who have been handed every single thing in life, who offer no respective views on the world, just views that are selfishly constructed in your mind, things you must have been innately intimate with.

Y’know, Pepsi may refresh the world, but I enlighten this said world by blasting dumbshits via writing. Ah, aren’t I so mighty and powerful?

The Doors, my all-time favorite band (yes, I’m young, but ’60s and ’70s rock is the greatest music ever comprised, hands down), are now modernly used for marketing purposes, pretty much. Jim Morrison, who cultivated the name of the group in 1965 with Ray Manzarek, derived the name from Aldous Huxley’s opus “The Doors of Perception.”

The music The Doors sounded out was like no other during its time. While other popular bands in the ’60s were soliciting peace and love, protesting the war with potent medleys, The Doors were having the bulk of their music be overwhelmed by the Vox Continental keyboard-playing by Ray Manzarek and the deep, dark poetry of lead singer Jim Morrison, while Robby Krieger used his own fingernails — instead of a pick — to play the guitar, and John Densmore banged the drums in the background. What made The Doors special — besides the deep, dark poetry and the loud blaze of the keyboards — was that their war protest was different — more dark and sadistic, as exemplified in the medley “Unknown Soldier.”

Jim Morrison never intended to be a singer. He wanted to be known as a poet. He thought that his poetry could live vicariously through his songwriting and through the passion that was internally embedded in The Doors. Sadly he was mistaken, as his music legend grew and fans grew to adore him as a rockstar. That explains why he grew a beard, blatantly became fat, and part of the reason he moved to Paris at the end of his life (the other reason is because of the Miami incident).

As was mentioned, Morrison merely wanted to get his words out. He didn’t want to have The Doors’ music playing on any commercials or being used to persuade people in any situation. Not even the most sparse amount of advertising.

But here we are, in 2009, and 70-year-old Ray Manzarek is the catalyst in paving the way to continuously speaking the word of The Doors. And of course, that’s fine! But the problem is, now, that he and Robby Krieger are tagging along in this new band called “The Doors of the 21st Century,” which was inaugurated in 2002. As of today, they have been playing alongside Eddie Vedder and Angelo Barbera.

The fact that Manzarek continues to up the amp on the myth that Jim Morrison is living somewhere in South Africa is a ludicrous claim to get more hype and publicity.

Thanks, Manzarek, but no thanks. Do the Beatles thing and let it be.

I’m going to a community college to raise my high school-caused-this, downtrodden GPA. Everything’s good, except for one thing that’s a good cause for call to say this:

My math teacher is full of shit.

I’m going to school Tuesdays and Thursdays — general studies, with Sociology and Psychology added. All is fine and dandy except math.

For some reason or another, they (when I say they, I mean the guidance counselor of the school) put me in Algebra II. First and foremost, I never took Algebra II in high school! I took Algebra, bullshitted my way through it and barely passed thanks to my ability to have my mind cavort around my mind and my inability to be responsible enough to pay attention.

The big issue isn’t that. When I first received my schedule back in July, I thought, “Oh, what the hell, Algebra II, I’ll do fine as long as I pay attention to the instructor!”

The teacher writes too fast on the chalkboard and explains problems in obscure terms, all while making obscure remarks about numbers being married to one another along with all of this other jargon that’s leaking into bullshit territory.

“You’re going to love this, class. But oh wait, before I slip, let me plug in 5 squared. And wait! Before I get too ahead of myself!”

Too late, you’re already too ahead of yourself.

While I’m making lame excuses for myself, looks like I’ll be looking for a tutor around the school who will assist me in absolving this bullshit obstacle that’s in front of me. Ah. Why can’t I just take English, Sociology and Psychology? I had enough math during conscription; oh wait, I mean that incorrigible shit known as mandatory education that was 12 years of jack shit.

Pepsi-Cola Throwback is what it is: groovy, man. The fact that it is all natural and contains no artificial sweeteners automatically makes it a kickass drink (along with Mountain Dew Throwback, but I haven’t tried it yet) to, well, throw back (two different meanings, but who’s giving a damn?). Natural sugar — ah, when I think of natural sugar, I think of fruit. I don’t think of soda.

When the products Pepsi Throwback and Mountain Dew Throwback were introduced to the market, I was oblivious. A family member’s husband imparted the info to me that there was a new brand of soft drinks out on the market that contained natural sugar, the way they made it in the good ‘ol days, and it blew my mind.

I didn’t even try Pepsi Throwback until July, when they were almost off the market, and thoroughly enjoyed it.

I thought Pepsi Throwback was off the market, until tonight, when I was in Target and found a sole case of it sitting all in its pitiful lonesome in between some Sierra Mist and regular Pepsi. Yes, I had to buy it. Natural sugar, caramel coloring, natural flavor, and my first boost of caffeine since Tuesday evening.

Pepsi announced that they are going to bring back the two Throwback products starting on December 28 for eight weeks, due to the popularity of the two drinks (mostly being inured on the web).

All hail Pepsi Throwback!

P.S. Fuck High Fructose Corn Syrup