Editor's Note - Homeless Frank lives in front of the building where I work. I pay him food in return for blog entries. For this one he got a fifth of vodka and a Po Boy sandwich. I've corrected spelling and grammar; all thoughts belong to Frank.
Today Homeless Frank shares his thoughts on Michael Vick and Dogfighting.
Serves that fucker right to get thrown in jail for killing those dogs and burying them. That's perfectly good food he's wasting.
Back in Nam you didn't see us killing dogs for fun. Nope, they were killed for eating, same as any other animal we could get our hands on. Them chopper pilots always thanked us for the hot dinners we served up but you sure as hell didn't hear them asking where it came from. If they had seen some of them Saigon butcher shops they would've sobered up right quick.
My mama was the one that taught me to never look to hard at the back history of meat. She could cook up a mighty fine stew if you looked past the occasional hair caught between your teeth. Roof rabbit she called it. And she gave a mighty fine "fuck you" to the neighbors who complained about missing pets. Keep 'em out of our yard if you want to keep on lovin' on them.
This Vick asshole should have known better. Next time he gets the urge to do a little dogfighting he'll know it's always best to eat the evidence.
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