Michael Irvin: helping a "brother" out

ahh, what a week it's been.
i don't even have to dig into dicky v's bag of bluster to find the impetus for this article: Michael Irvin's recent arrest for posession of drug paraphanelia (did I spell that right? no one cares).

yes, The Playmaker, whose sartorial taste (poor) and interview style (baglicking) have already been chronicled here on FDV, was arrested and booked after the cops found a marijuana pipe and bags containing marijuana residue under the driver seat of his car. Phil Taylor of the "hot button" on cnnsi.com already wrote some excellent comments about why a man w/ a felony drug plea would choose to hide his drugs under the driver seat of his car, as opposed to somewhere in his 10,000 square foot house. Big ups to Mr. Taylor from FDV.

Irvin claims that the drugs are not his. they belong to his "brother". Originally the cops thought he meant his actual related brother, but since the arrest he has changed his story, and now he means "brother", i.e. his homie. His friend had the drugs, and he had to take them away from him and "get rid of them" to "protect his kids." And by "get rid of them" he means "smoke all that shit up".

If Irvin's IQ was as high as the wattage on his five-button suits he would probably be able to figure out that a guy with a felony no-contest drug plea probably shouldn't be hanging out with people that bring drugs over to the house. Probably. But this is the same guy that, when arrested with another of his homies, two hookers and a plate of blow, denied that any of the drugs were his. Riiiiiight. The hookers said this was nonsense, but we weren't there so we don't know. We can make an educated guess that two low-budget call girls probably didn't have the cash for a big pile of imported Colombian flake, but that's conjecture. We don't want to go out on a limb or anything.

If Irvin wants to get a little bit for his cataracts then we here at FDV aren't ones to judge. But puh-leeze STOP LYING to yourself, your family, your church (Irvin is a front-row, camera-loving Christian), and your boss. Your friends you don't have to worry about. They're the ones scoring you the weed in the first place.