Robert Scribner is a senior majoring in business. He can be contacted at [email protected].In an unexpected turn to one of the most paramount cases of the past fifteen billion years, Michael Vick pled guilty on Sunday to all counts of making me very, very bored. A moving address to the nation by the distraught and teary-eyed Vick captured the non-attention of the hundreds of viewers still following the shameful and altogether shocking (like the dogs) case.
Of course, this didn’t happen outside of my mind. Michael Vick doesn’t really need to apologize to people for making them bored, because that also didn’t happen. Everyone loves the Michael Vick case, and I can’t figure out why. Aren’t there better subjects to talk about, such as why we should not talk about this one? I think so. Let’s talk about it.
This culture, or perhaps this species, is composed of individuals obsessed with prominence. The magnitude of actions is always set aside when compared to the fame of the person that acted. Yes, we can all agree that Michael Vick is dumb. Yes, we can all agree that Lindsay Lohan is dumb and also beautiful. But are their’s the crimes of the century? Of course not.
Obviously, these things are somewhat newsworthy. People care about football, and people care about whatever it is that Lindsay Lohan does (cocaine, I think?). Athletes especially are always in the public eye. I would know this better than anyone, being a distance runner.
But why do these stories have to pervade all forms of media all of the time? Sure, keep me up to date on Michael Vick. That’s fine. In the least, it makes for good jokes. It also makes for last-minute Reflector article subject matter. It is somewhat interesting, but don’t bombard me with every detail 24/7.
There are things going on in the world that are actually sort of important. Like warfare and boisterous papal proclamations.
Besides, when I turn to ESPN, I want to be entertained with actual sports. I want to see spelling bees. I want to see poker. I want to see children stacking and unstacking plastic cups as fast as they can. I don’t want to be brought down by nonstop images of Michael Vick’s nefarious face. Michael Vick probably couldn’t even spell the word nefarious. And he calls himself an athlete.
Unfortunately, this article is only going to add more fuel to the fire that is the Michael Vick debacle, though he won’t be able to ignite his dogs with this figurative flame. At least I hope not, because I don’t think I can take any more of this story. And neither can the dogs.