Don Banks of SI.com has several sources close to Michael Vick who are saying, anonymously, that Vick was in up to his shoulder pads on the dog fighting ring that got busted at his house in Virginia. That would be the dog fighting ring with the 70 dogs. The one he knew nothing about. At the house he owns. The one he's never been to.

"He knows what's going on in that house in Virginia,'' one source said. "There's not a doubt in my mind he's involved with it.'' The other source cited Vick's longtime "affinity'' for the dog-fighting subculture, and expressed certainty that Vick was aware of what was happening at the house.

The parts of this story that sicken me are too numerous to list. Vick's "I have a mansion, forget the price/ I never been there, they tell me it's nice" defense. The fact that the people he set up to live in the place and breed the dogs ratted him out to SI the first chance they get. The dogs? Yeah, I guess I should feel bad for the dogs, but it's not these were my old Springer Spaniel, Winston the Wonder Dog. I mean, these were undoubtedly Pit Bulls, and as long as they're attacking each other, they're too preoccupied to make my sorry ass part of a nutritious breakfast.

But the sickest thought of this story is that here's Michael Vick; a superstar, a multi-millionaire, a guy with virtually unlimited resources to indulge any pleasure he could possibly have, so what does he do? Golf every day? Fly jets? Yatching? Fill his house with 21 year old bisexual chicks and 5,000 gallons of Jell-O? In other words, the things any normal guy would do? No. Ron Mexico likes to watch dogs bite each other.

Suddenly I've got a new found respect for Curt Schilling's World of Warcraft jones.