Here are three: to never watch a Whoopi Goldberg movie, to never dance the Electric Slide in public and to never use the phrase "keeping it real."

So far, so good on the first two, but watching Michael Vick entering court recently put the offending phrase in my head and it won't leave.

In the news clip, you couldn't help noticing the exquisitely tailored blue suit -- was that an Armani? -- Vick wore as he entered court to answer charges of dog fighting. Nor could you help but notice that the dude pimp-strolled into court, pausing for dramatic effect to adjust his pocket square.

I, like just about every other dude who's ever tried to be cool, have done the pimp-stroll -- a walk of exaggerated cool employing a barely noticeable shoulder dip and an air of imperturbability -- at some point, but never when going into court as a defendant.

Vick didn't get the memo that that's a no-no. Nor did he get the one about dogs. In a country where some people love their dogs more than their spouses -- hey, no dog will ever ask for half your assets or forbid you to see your pups -- he has committed an unpardonable faux paw.

Because Vick is being so vociferously vilified by the media, some blacks -- and not just misguided fellow pro athletes -- are reflexively jumping to his defense.

Many letters and phone calls to me begin with some variation of "I know what the brotha did was wrong, but. ... "

What the ...

Sorry, homes, but that sentiment and that conjunction "but" are the reasons so much crap is excused in our communities.

I know what the brotha did was wrong, but he didn't have a father, but he wasn't breast-fed long enough, but his Air Jordans were too tight. Pick an excuse and it's been used to exempt some black dudes from personal accountability.

"I know what the brotha did was wrong," wrote one sister, "but ... the way the white media is going at him only makes me want to defend him. My whole point is this: do we take away his freedom and livelihood over some dogs?"

Since it didn't appear to be a rhetorical question, I decided to ask Sandra Battle of Durham if Vick was being done wrong.

"To hell with Michael Vick," responded Battle, who is black. Of Vick's defenders, she added "They're just as sick as he is."

See, you have to understand that Battle's dog up and died in November 2005, and like Mr. Bojangles, she still grieves. She'd gotten the poodle from a shelter after it had been abused by previous owners.

She sent me the obituary for Rascals -- "my son," she called him -- and told me how friends stopped by for the memorial service held at her house.

So, no, neither Battle nor I think Vick is being improperly vilified. We think he is being properly vilified.

Unlike many of his vilifiers, though, I think the cat can be redeemed. If his apology upon pleading guilty was sincere, he could atone for his criminally abhorrent behavior -- but it'll take more than just going on Oprah and crying.

No amount of jail time or atoning will bring back one dog he admitted harming, but I'll bet abused dogs like Rascals in doggy heaven are resting a bit easier.

I know his owner is.

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