Cats: Nature's Assholes

I don't like cats. I don't like people who like cats. I don't like people who like people who like cats. Most people who like cats remind me of this:



I can hear you all now. "But cats are cute!" Wrong. "Cats are nice!" Wrong. "Cats are your best friend!" You're delusional.

I just ate your soul

Cats are sneaky, evil assholes. They operate independantly to carry out devious missions of assassination, espionage, and mayhem. They are ninjas.

I killed Lincoln

People think they own their cats. Wrong. Cats have no human master. They take orders directly from their unnamed leader, seen here. He is part cat, part god. He is the reason ancient Egyptions worshipped cats. And that's the reason Egypt is a smelly pile of third world filth today. They worshipped evil.

Walk into the home of someone who has cats. Cover your nose first, or you might vomit. Immediately ask the person where their cat is. They have no idea. That's because cats can be anywhere at any time. A dog runs to greet you as soon as it hears your keys jingling in the door. As soon as a cat hears you, it finds a place to hide to scare the shit out of you.

Let me just throw these wet clothes in the HOLY SHIT!!!

Cats attack anything. If you think it's just humans, you're as wrong as you are about everything else. Cats attack everything from grass to paper clips to other cats.

I'll make this look like suicide...

When I was about eight years old, I slept over at a friend's house. Austin had two cats. One was black (obvious sign of evil), but pretty laid back. For a cat, anyway. Obviously, she was a high-level operative. A leader of ninjas. But the other one, Scotty, was a menace. We were getting ready for bed, and Austin turns to me. "By the way, sometimes Scotty likes to sleep on people's chest when they sleep. So if you wake up and Scotty's on your chest, don't make any sudden moves. If you do he'll attack your face."

I didn't sleep that night.

No sudden moves...

Scotty was a pure assassin. And he was good. Possibly the best. Austin and I once saw him in the front yard, hunched over something. We went over to him and he was eating a chipmunk. Now, I'm eight years old. One of my favorite cartoons is "Chip and Dale." Not the Rescue Rangers bullshit, but the original from the '40s. But Scotty ate Chip. The bastard ate Chip!

We also once found him eating a bat. A bat! How the hell does a cat catch a fucking bat? Bats fly! A lot!

In addition to the standard assassination and espianoge, cats dabble in sabotage. Why doesn't my TV work? Cat. Why did my power go out? Cat. How did the condom break? Cat.

The yellow one is video

To date, I've only found two weaknesses. Food and water. But be careful about the water; it usually just pisses them off. Then the next time you open the freezer...POW! Right in your face.

Overdose

I...am going...to kill you.

Cats are the worst. And they stink. It's easy to tell if a person owns a cat: they smell like kitty litter and urine. The whole kitty litter concept is ridiculous and disgusting. Here's an idea: fill a box with stuff that smells like piss and shit, fill it up with actual piss and shit, and then leave it in your house. Cause you know what would freshen this place up a bit? Feces.

Nature's assholes.

Who Wants to be a Millionaire?

Maybe it's karma. I've been meat-free and off the sauce for darn near a month now and I've heard a number of zingers with variations on the same theme; the loss of my manhood. I suppose it was only a matter of time before the joke became an accepted truth.

Cut to yesterday, me in the doctor's office for a routine physical. I should note that I haven't had a physical in quite some time, so I sat through a cornucopia of pokes, prods, shots and the like. Shoot, I might get mistaken for a dope fiend, what with the track marks on both arms. All told I parted with seven vials of vampire fuel, had a TB test, a tetanus shot, and MMR and polio boosters.

Or so I thought. Turns out the medical abbreviation for the polio booster is IPV. An abbreviation the nurse read as HPV. As in Human Papillomavirus. As in an affliction that causes cervical cancer. As in requiring a cervix. The vaccine is administered to WOMEN between the ages of 9 and 26. Breaking news: I fall under NEITHER category. All of this could be gleaned after giving me and/or my chart a once over. Didn't happen, and thus, I'm a third of the way to being immune to a virus to which I'm already 99% immune.

The office informed me of this monumental blunder later in the day. They're checking with Merck to provide me with information that might be useful. I've done some research of my own, and have yet to find out said useful information. Probably because it is a VACCINE FOR WOMEN. Not all is lost however. Since there is still no cap on malpractice suits (a genius policy that has done wonders for the health care system in this country) I figure I can cash in eventually. And what are a couple of freshly-sprouted ovaries when you have a hundred mil?

A Retort

Well, Mr. Danforth, allow me to retort.

(clears throat)
(adjusts package)

1. Coors Light. Get to know their audience. We’re talking NASCAR-watching, Skoal-chewing, wife-beating, shotgun-racking, pickup-loving, Mossy Oak Breakup-wearing, trailer-living Americans. Do they go to bars in the middle of the day? Do they order more than one beer for themselves? Do they have a bunch of friends with similar work ethics? Do they need to be told when their beer is cold? The answer to all these question is a qualified ‘yes.’

2. Taco Bell. Bacon DOES trump all. Beauty is in the sizzle.

3. Tropicana Pure Valencia. I’ve caught you jerking off to The Food Network. And I’m talking about the close-ups of seared tuna steak, not Giada De Laurentiis. So don’t tell me that hot, sweating fruit doesn’t put a banana in your pants, buddy. And I don’t know about you, but I wanna fuck that juice.

(adjusts package)

4. I actually agree with you on this one. Dammit.