It's Caturday

Rocco – our dearly departed cat exorcist

Jen and I are thinking we may need to invest in a kitty exorcist. 

Why? 

First remember, between our two abodes we have three beasties. Yes, we’re running on the light side lately. What can I say? The Cat Distribution System (CDS) hasn’t been ‘round recently. WE’RE SUFFERING HERE! Skitter and Walter live with Jen, Oni, and Kevin. Cake lives with Ten and me. Yesterday all three of our resident overlords seemed distinctly out of sorts – just not in the mood for any of their minions’ nonsense. And by “nonsense” I’m referring to liberties and indignities such as:

• Giving one too many head pats
• Not moving our hands away from proferred treats quickly enough
• Wearing sneakers when you KNOW I HATE those particular sneakers this morning! 

These are clear crimes against felinity and obvs deserved a fair swat or three. Yes, even with claws out. These indiscretions and blunders will simply not be tolerated!

I thought I was fairly safe as I’ve been in bed with my sore foot lately. Yesterday though, I ventured downstairs to find that I’m not in fact exempt. Naturally, I had to text Jen immediately and tattle on her beloved’s crime (Jen is Cake’s favorite after Ten. Me? I’m just a stray broad who he cadges pats from occasionally).

Sarah Andersen

Me:  Your cat 🐈‍⬛ just took a swipe at me!

Jen:  Haha… MY cat?

And what is his deal today? Poor little confused pumpkin. Does he need an exorcist too???

Me:  Yes! Cat exorcists all around!

Jen:  Maybe we can get a discount for multiple ‘cisms. 
 
Me:  That would be good but NO Walmart exorcisms. Their priests are cheap, made in China, knock-offs. Their Latin is all run through Google translate so it's seriously sus. I’m afraid that, instead of exorcising our kitten’s demons, we’ll end up summoning Cerberus or some other hellhounds. No thank you! AND, swear to god, the last “priest” they sent was Methodist! I mean, REALLY NOW! The absolute audacity of these capitalists!

Jen:  Geez, maybe we should go directly to Rome. Get one of those milk drinking nuns instead!

This is a reference to when Jen and I were people watching at a hotel bar in Rome. From our perch we could see the hotel's entrance. A huge crowd (a flock?) of habit clad nuns pulled up in a tour bus and poured into the building. One very short, compact sister, split off from the group, made a beeline for the bar, and placed an order. 

Naturally, our curiosity was piqued. WHAT had this nun ordered? A whisky, brandy, Chartreuse, maybe a Limoncello? 

Nope, sister ordered a shot of milk, straight, no chaser. She tossed it back like a gun fighter about to head to the OK Corral and then walked out the door to rejoin the flock.

Well … alrighty then!

Back to exorcists and cats – all seems calm on the feline front this morning so I don’t think we’ll need to place an emergency call into the Rome office after all. 

PHEW!

Ronald Searle

Etiquette Lessons for Boors

Being deaf and having, apparently, a severe case of resting I-wish-a-muthafucka-would face shields me from a lot of rude shit from the socially banjaxed amongst us. It seems America is jam packed with these boors.

Found on Threads—a woman in a wheelchair was in an elevator. Another woman, a stranger, got on. Apropos of nothing the stranger asks “What happened,” as in, why are you in a wheelchair?

How abso-fucking primitive of her, no?

A commenter offered a possible riposte:

“I don’t tell that story for free. I have a sliding scale for intrusive questions. Some cost drinks, some cost dinner, some require a credit check.”

Concise and clever! Other potential replies?

• “My legs were torn to shreds by a stranger in an elevator. OH MY GOD, they looked JUST LIKE YOU!”

Start breathing dramatically, heavily while rolling the wheelchair back into a corner. Begin bleating, “please, I beg of you, don’t kill me!” When the elevator doors open and new passengers get on, act completely normal as though nothing at all went down.

• Throw the question back on the thoughtless inquirer. Ask them what happened while you gesture at their face or some other body part. If they ask “what?,” reply with “Oh, I’m so sorry. How rude of me. This is probably a sensitive, uncomfortable thing for you to talk about AND it’s none of my business. Please forgive my egregious faux pas.”

• Deadpan – “Have you ever seen the movie Alien? Well, I survived.” //break eye contact// I can’t say anymore. It’s top secret, you know."  //stay silent, no matter what until the elevator doors open at your floor//

• Respond with, “What happened? What? What are you talking about?” pause, look down. “OH MY GOD, I’M IN A WHEELCHAIR. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!!!”
• Toss large handfuls of glitter at the rude person. Tell them you’re from the Department of Social Interactions and there have been several serious complaints about her. The light glitter bombing is her first warning. The next offense will warrant a Blizzard Bomb which is when thousands of tiny, static-charged foam balls will be released in the home. These will adhere to clothing, hair, cats, dogs, turtles, furniture, and rugs. Third violation and the junk mailers, spammers, and door to door religion salesweasels will be unleashed. STILL asking intrusive personal questions that are NONE of your fucking business? Into the hot box with renowned cheap makeup and fecal scented Prez Pedo she goes.

• Ask the rude questioner, “What do you mean 'what happened?'” Make them specify. When they reply “Oh, you know…”, gesturing at your legs, say “No, I don’t know. Please elaborate.” Make them ask the full intrusive, ass-faced question – why are you in a wheelchair. Then ask them why they felt it was appropriate to ask this of a complete stranger. By now the person’s probably getting fairly defensive. Keep making them uncomfortable. Push it. “How is my body ANY of your business.” Make it painfully awkward. Then, up the ante. Do they have some sort of sick, ghoulish fetish where they feel entitled to the details of stranger’s health struggles?

• Say nothing but hand them a card with a list of helpful websites like:

The Etiquette Factory 
New England School of Protocol 
Reader’s Digest – 13 Etiquette Rules That Should Be Taught in Schools—but Aren’t 
Melissa Penfold, The New 100 Etiquette Rules for Modern Life 

On the very few occasions when I’ve encountered the blindingly socially dimwitted, I’ve tended toward making communicating with me a lot more trouble than it’s worth. It's fun. I like people going away feeling frustrated, annoyed, with a hint of I've-failed-at-communicating-with-a-poor-disabled-person. It’s my little inside joke to myself.

No, I am not a noble, angelic, martyr-type disabled person.  //understatement alert//

Caturday

First – It's Caturday. All hail our feline overlords.

Second – I found a white hair on my head yesterday. Huh. This is a first. Sure, I’m an old broad and a bit slow to the realm of silver manes. //shrugs// What can I say, I got a genetic package deal from mia madre – big boobs, small waist, very late greying, and a brain and spine full of tumors. Lucky me, eh? Also, at the rate I’m going, I’ll be fish food before I’ve attained a proper white crown.  *sigh*

Third – If The Amazing Bob had survived the slings and arrows of outrageous health, he would be turning 83 years-old today. I raise my glass to TAB’s amused, absurdist, untamed, accepting, supportive, free-range soul.

Fourth – While you can’t necessarily believe everything you see on the internet (DUH!), it would be reckless (wouldn't it?) to fail to consider all possibilities. Right?!

I mean, just yesterday I read that Renee Good’s murderer, Jonathan Ross had a Grindr page – deleted just a couple days ago. You know Grindr? It’s the gay dating app that crashes whenever a lot of Republicans are in town. The app itself referred to the Republican National Convention as the Grindr Super Bowl.

US Republicans with headless and blank profile images are crashing Grindr as they look to hook up! Yes, despite the obvious jokes and that the behaviour is totally at odds with the Republican anti-queer agenda, attendees seem to love spending their time at conventions looking for a bit of fun.
~~~
Data showed that there was a 166% increase in Grindr activity during the US Republican National Convention, underscoring the contradiction between the RNC’s public anti-LGBTQ+ stance and the private behaviours of attendees.
~~~
Reports of the Grindr app crashing increased by more than 90% during republican events, according to Downdetector, a digital platform that tracks service issues among apps. (source)

Unsurprisingly, Grindr also went down during Charlie Kirk’s Memorial extravaganza in Phoenix.

The murderer’s wife is a Filipino immigrant. This Daily Mail article says that both her parents are doctors so she wasn't some poor, desperate mail-order bride type who only hooked up with Ross to get out of the depths of poverty. Who knows what her situation is/was though. Maybe she’s self-hating and has no self-identity OR maybe she’s just a fellow asshole like Melania and Usha? I wonder if he threatens to deport her every time they have an argument.

The post dispassionately describes Ross as a solid red MAGAt, which will come as a revelation to absolutely no one. This is the violent, orange pedophile worshipping, willfully ignorant, entitled motherfucker who coldly, inhumanly shot a fellow human three times, IN THE FACE for no fucking reason. He blew her brains out, called her dying body a “fucking bitch” and calmly walked away. 

Noem. Vance, and Trump  continue to spout ridiculous lies and there’s precious little, if any, pushback, from the mainstream media. WE’VE ALL SEEN THE VIDEOS! There’s nothing there to absolve him. He’s a stone cold murderer and our government is protecting him. 

The murderer Jonathan Ross and his family are now in a safe house somewhere. It’s a jail of his own making. I hope he's in it for the rest of his damned life.

Rebecca Good, meanwhile, published a statement saying: “On Wednesday, January 7th, we stopped to support our neighbors. We had whistles. They had guns. We were raising our son to believe that no matter where you come from or what you look like, all of us deserve compassion and kindness. Renee lived this belief every day. She is pure love. She is pure joy. She is pure sunshine.

“Renee was a Christian who knew that all religions teach the same essential truth: we are here to love each other, care for each other, and keep each other safe and whole.” (source) 

Mother’s Little Helper

I was never a big Rolling Stones fan. I think, mostly, it was because I just couldn’t take Mick Jagger seriously. I found his stage theatrics annoying—for me they took away from the music. Still, if I just listened to the tunes, didn’t watch performance clips, I could appreciate a bunch of their offerings.

The only album I ever bought was Let It Bleed. Keith Richard’s 1988 solo album Talk Is Cheap was brill and more in line with my own rather broad tastes.

Still, I occasionally get a Stones song stuck on the old internal turntable. Last night, it was Mother’s Little Helper.

Doctor please, some more of these
Outside the door, she took four more
What a drag it is getting old

"Life's just much too hard today"
I hear ev'ry mother say
The pursuit of happiness just seems a bore
And if you take more of those, you will get an overdose
No more running for the shelter of a mother's little helper
They just helped you on your way, through your busy dying day

I’m only now reading that the pill they were talking about was Valium. All these decades (the song came out almost 60 years ago!) I figured it was speed because OF COURSE it was. How else would an overwhelmed mother keep up with her 24/7 housewifery?

Was thinking about speed and getting old last night. Warum? On Friday I had a flu vaccine. For the first time ever, it knocked the shit outta me. C’MON! This was a weenie little flu shot and I’m tired to the point of napping? I didn’t feel up to ellipticalling OR doing my strength and balance exercises yesterday and this morning, almost 48 hours post shot, my arm hurts? NOT FAIR!

Would I take a Black Beauty if I had one? No. I quit recreational drug indulgence (this doesn’t include weed, OK?!) in my early 20s. Hells bells, I don’t even drink coffee or caffeinated tea anymore. Why not? It fucks with my sleep too much.

I’m real keen on the wisdom I’ve gained with age BUT, all the same, what a drag it is getting old.

I only mention it but Mick and Keef were in their early 20s when they wrote Mother’s Little Helper. ‘the fuck did they know about getting old? Maybe they just had a whole fuckton of empathy.

 Anyway, here—have some pics!

Cake

Walter

Skitter

This and That

I just started a collection of short stories—An Elderly Lady Is Up to No Good by Helene Tursten.

Maud is an irascible 88-year-old Swedish woman with no family, no friends, and… no qualms about a little murder.
     ~~~
Ever since her darling father’s untimely death when she was only eighteen, Maud has lived in the family’s spacious apartment in downtown Göteborg rent-free, thanks to a minor clause in a hastily negotiated contract. That was how Maud learned that good things can come from tragedy. Now in her late eighties, Maud contents herself with traveling the world and surfing the net from the comfort of her father’s ancient armchair. It’s a solitary existence, and she likes it that way. (source)

I won’t give any more away but she puts Dexter happily in mind. It’s simply lovely to read stories about an elderly, independent and happy female protagonist who’s not at all squeamish about problem solving.

I’m totally in need of heroes with unconventional methods. Also, while every tale doesn’t and shouldn’t have a happy ending, these are much appreciated right now.

The Life of Sharks

Dr. Seuss 1942

Cats Googling

If cats could do internet searches what would they look for?

• Catnip dealers within 1 mile of my location.

• Does this constitute neglect? I can see the bottom of my kibble bowl.

• Where did my balls go?

• Best spots for puking.

• Chewing on plastic addiction. 12 step programs in my area.

• French stray cats in space

• Why does the vacuum cleaner terrify me?

• Am I 10 years old or 55? When do I qualify for Caticare?

• How to discreetly sniff the neighbor's butt.

• Why won’t my minions serve me fresh tuna versus canned?

• Grumpy Cat—clinically depressed or just an asshole?

• Why am I not allowed in the bathroom anymore?

• Was The Cat in the Hat an anarchist?

• Dogs embarrassing themselves, video

• Cheap fur stylists in my area

• How to make minions take the blame for my farts.

• Was Morris gay?

• Did Sylvester have plastic surgery?

• Hello Kitty porn

• Was the Cheshire Cat doing LSD or magic mushrooms?

• What is bitcoin and is it made by 9 Lives?

• Will Fancy Feast finance my bid for mayor of Valhalla?

• Refinancing my mortgage

• Who else is as cool as Tombili?

• How to get minions to buy me a heating pad OR turn up the heat in the damn house.

There are two means of refuge from the misery of life — music and cats.
~ Albert Schweitzer

I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.
~ Winston S. Churchill

One day I was counting the cats and I absent-mindedly counted myself.
~ Bobbie Ann Mason, Shiloh and Other Stories

Caturday

Did you know? There are no wild tigers in Africa. In fact, according to Live Science, the cat family members who evolved into our stripey buds, booked outta Africa for Asia about two million years ago. They’ve never returned.

Sadly, due to human activity like hunting, the global tiger population has dropped by 97% in the last 100 years. Now, the remaining tigers call only the following 13 countries home: India, Nepal, Bhutan, Bangladesh, Myanmar, Russia, China, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam. Over 70% of the global wild tiger population lives in India alone.
     ~~~
Land development for roads, logging, and human settlements has led to around 96% of the tiger’s natural range being lost in the past 100 years. That combined with high levels of poaching has led to a sharp decline in tiger populations around the world. Tigers are now globally listed as “endangered.”  (source)

Wildlife Conservation Society figures show that there are only around 3,000 tigers left in the wild. We did that—us. People.

You know who else is endangered as fuck (by us!)? Amur leopards, that’s who. There’s only around 100 left. They live in eastern Russia and northern China.
The Iberian lynx is an apex predator but there are only 1,111 left in the wild. Why? Humans and our total lack of respect for others. We steal and build on their homelands. We hunt them. WHY?! And we hit them with our stupid cars and trucks.

The flat-headed cat (yes, that’s really its name) of Southeast Asia is about the size of a housecat. It’s found in Malaysia, Sumatra, Borneo and southern Thailand.

This cat is endangered due to its habitat being converted to agricultural lands (including oil palm plantations), pollution and hunting. (source)

Wild cheetahs can go from zero to 60 miles an hour in only three seconds. They can’t outrun humans destruct-o tendencies though.

Did you know? Cheetahs generally hunt alone but male siblings will sometimes form a hunting party. These groups are called a coalition. Sounds like they were labeled by some corporate human resources suits, eh?

Snow Leopards? They’re classed as vulnerable—a small step up from endangered. Why are these beauties vulnerable? Humans. Poaching, our theft of the leopard’s habitat, declines in natural prey (due to human predation) and other assorted stupid human shit.

Christ almighty, as a species, we suck.

My fabulous house panther, Cake.

Caturday with Food and Horror

Is it just me? I fucking LOVE tater tots. Aren’t those the kiddy version of hash browns or something? Don’t care. I’d rather have those than fries (exception—curly fries *SWOON*). 

Dipping sauce?
Not ketchup. I believe Cheato’s love/abuse affair with the poor tomato has had an impact on my preference. Also, possibly, I think ketchup is just boring. There’s no pizzazz, no sizzle. My choice? A nice chipotle dip and/or a fine Chinese garlic sauce.

Generally, my eating habits have gotten weird (possibly just elderly). I think it’s related to the dental surgery—afterward I needed/wanted only soft foods.

For breakfast I have scrambled eggs (Ten puts in some sort of shredded vegan sausage and cheese—it’s serious awesomeness) and an English muffin. For lunch, nearly every day, there’s soup. It’s usually some tomato based thing to which Ten adds wee tortellinis. LOVE tortellini. SOMEtimes I have clam chowder but that’s become too heavy for me. The tortellini and little potato bits seem to be just too, TOO much.

Now that my gums are healing up, post teeth extractions, perhaps it’s time to get all wild and crazy. You know, I could rip into some grilled asparagus and Brussels sprouts. Maybe have a piece of crusty French bread with my pasta enriched tomato soup. I know! I could be utterly daring and order up some pakoras, samosas, egg rolls and scallion pancakes. NO MORE kiddy grub!
~~~
There’s a post up, authored by Noah Berlatsky, on Aaron Rupar’s Public Notice site. It’s essentially a summation and review of Time’s long form interview with the bloated tangerine madman who wants to be king. 

Trump’s proposals are terrifying. But they’re also remarkably incoherent. What’s most striking in the interview is that Trump, even after four years as president, has virtually no grasp on any policy issue beyond empty talking points, most of which are lies. When asked how he will implement his plans, he waffles, obfuscates, and delivers a stream of non sequitur boasts about how great he is or about how other people have said that he’s great. He lies all the time, but many of his statements on core policy issues are so garbled and gassy they don’t even qualify as lies. It’s like interacting with a chatbot programmed by a fascist parrot.

Trump’s blank, aggressive ignorance shouldn’t be a comfort. He has shown, over and over, that incompetence doesn’t have to undermine evil intent; often it can exacerbate it. He offers a vision of a presidency of cruelty and violence disavowed as it occurs, with every abuse of power accompanied by a vague flurry of denials and endless self-hagiography. Trump promises us, over and over, that he will do harm, and that he will learn nothing. (source)

Go read the full post. Noah Berlatsky is witty and trenchant in his analysis. WELL worth a read, This is scary shit so maybe fix yourself up a nice Irish coffee first. Grab a cookie too.

Not Great News and Other Bits

My upcoming bean surgery has been delayed. Why? Remember those two back teeth that broke off during my surgery-a-thon of ’20 and ’21? Yeah, them. The fuckers have become problematic and need to come out before the tumor can be dug out.

Motherfucking joy.

I’ve been referred to the dental surgery department at Mass General and am waiting to hear when I’ll meet yet another new surgeon. The good news on this is that, given my history (all those neuro ops, the facial nerve damage and trigeminal neuralgia) I feel a whole lot better about having the teeth taken outat MGH versus some strip mall Gentle Dental office.

In the words of my spiritual sister, Roseanne Roseannadanna, “it's always something — if it's not one thing, it's another.”
~~~
I’m reading this new book by Blake Crouch called Upgrade. It’s set in a dystopian near future where gene editing has become ridiculously common to the point that there’s a dude in Vegas crafting a dragon from crocodile and Komodo genes.  (COOL!) That’s not the story though. It centers around a guy named Logan—a disgraced scientist from an infamous family. His DNA has been hacked without his knowledge or consent. He works for the Gene Protection Agency which is tasked with cracking down on unauthorized DNA hackers. Logan’s life is about to get wildly complicated.

I’ve just begun the book but I AM hooked. I mean, fer fuck’s sake, if I could dig in and edit my very own DNA, my heredity units, I totally would—in a fuckin’ heartbeat! For absolute starters, I’d boot out the NF2 mutations from my 22nd chromosome. Oh YES I would.

The NF2 gene codes for the protein neurofibromin 2, also called merlin or schwannomin. Oh yeah honeys, that sucker would be SO gone, baby, gone. No time to pack its bags either.

I had extraordinary dreams and an ordinary mind.
~ Blake Crouch, Upgrade
~~~
Why, I ask you WHY, when someone sends or posts a birth announcement, do they note sex, weight and length?

First—who cares what sex they are at one day old?! Is the new bairn healthy? THAT’S what counts, what matters. Fuck that pink and blue bow shit!

Can’t a damn bambino have a decade or ten to develop into a decent human being before being pushed into some rigid, antiquated, bullshit gender role?

Second—weight and length? Did you just birth a bass? A trout? Are you vying for a trophy here?

Why not just announce that you (or your spawn) are welcoming a new healthy (or not) human to the planet. Give the new sprog’s name and date of arrival. Maybe a note about the new mum’s health (this was brutally exhausting for Drusilla but she survived it like a warrior queen)?

You want to give the exact time Ocean arrived center stage? Why? Unless they finally exited the birth canal at 3AM after a brutal twelve hour labor, who cares?

Maybe this is just me. Maybe everyone else finds the length, arrival time and gender of a newborn endlessly fascinating.

 Ummmmmmm, happy Catuday!