Sunday, Jan. 20, 42 A.B.
Auditioning For The Role Of Kitty Prozac
I read a rather disturbing article today. It starts off this way:
"Indoor felines live 4 times longer. But now that you've brought your pet inside, you must help him fight obesity -- even depression. Millions of our purring pals are brain-dead -- they've lost it upstairs, while at the same time they've gained it around the middle. And their owners have no idea, because that's how we expect cats to be."
I immediately went and roused Jester from his afternoon stupor to ask him about this.
"Wha -? Is it dinnertime?"
No, there's something I think we need to discuss.
"Did the police find my lost testicles?!"
No, no - nothing like that.
There's this article here. It says... wait, let me quote it exactly.... It says 'We'd call it abuse to allow millions of dogs to vegetate, yet as a society we're content when our cats do just that.' Is this true? Am I abusing you?
"You woke me up. Of course you're abusing me. Now, go and sin no more."
But it says you're bored and I'm to blame. Am I??
"Well, you ARE boring, but I've never blamed you, exactly. I just figured you were born like that. Kinda like that smelly Siamese I knew once who had 6 toes on each paw. Only those extra toes were interesting, in a sickening sort of way. Maybe if you got yourself a decent prosthesis, you could rise to the level of that stinking Siamese."
I was thinking about maybe getting you a new catnip mouse or something. A catnip ball, maybe? A feather?
"Let's see.... I'm free Tuesday morning. Maybe we could discuss Kierkegaard?"
Umm - you mean Right Guard?
"I mean existentialism. Although I understand much of it, a few of the finer points might become clearer if I could talk them through with someone. Maybe we could debate whether or not meowing precedes meaning? Or the extent to which Sartre's famous nausea might have been the result of his needing a bigger collar?"
Erm - I just watch "The Great Gatsby" on video tonight. Can we maybe discuss that instead?
"What's to discuss? Fitzgerald was a shallow little wuss who wrote grotesqueries - not literature. Just like Steinbeck, Hemingway, Tennessee Williams and so many other 20th century American humans. Have you actually read The Sun Also Rises or Of Mice and Men or Tobacco Road or Light in August or Suddenly Last Summer lately? Downers, every one of them, all populated by grotesquely stupid losers whose hang-ups and obsessions bring them to a bad end. The main message seems to be, 'If someone treats you badly, run away! If you feel like chasing a rubber mouse around, fine - but stop short of chasing it into traffic!' Well, some of us don't need to read a book to figure that out, thank you very much."
Mia Farrow was in "The Great Gatsby." I had trouble recognizing her, though.
"Sinclair Lewis may be unfashionable these days, but at least he dealt with ideas. Business ethics and materialism in Babbit. The scam of religion in Elmer Gantry. The threat of American fascism in It Can't Happen Here. Maybe if his mother hadn't dressed him up as a girl, Hemingway would have stopped obsessing about his masculinity and managed to come up with something half as good as Main Street."
Mia Farrow got to kiss Robert Redford. She'd already been married to Frank Sinatra, so I assume she got to kiss him, too, since he couldn't have cheated on her every night - right? And eventually she had a long relationship with Woody Allen. Do you suppose she ever sits around on her porch comparing Redford's lips with Sinatra's and Woody's? I wonder which she might prefer....
"Of course, if you'd rather get beyond all those 1920s and 1930s type people and compare and contrast the Beat Generation writers with Britain's Angry Young Men, we can do that, too - I can spare an hour Wednesday afternoon if I make a special effort to get all my butt licking in before lunch."
Come to think of it, Mia might have kissed Satan as well. I mean, she did star in 'Rosemary's Baby' - right? And Satan was allegedly the father of that baby. I'm not sure, but I think kissing might have been involved. I know they say it was just a movie, but still... makes you stop and think, doesn't it? I mean, is it even possible to tell the difference between Sinatra's lips and Satan's when the lights are out?
"You know what? I just remembered - I'm planning on eating myself to death by Wednesday. Maybe some other time?"
And you know, I'm pretty sure Mia kissed people on that 'Peyton Place' show, too. Ryan O'Neal maybe? Who I KNOW kissed Barbra Streisand in 'What's Up Doc?' a few years later. And SHE'S now kissing James Brolin! Why, I bet there's no more than five degrees of separation between the lips of Mia Farrow and those of ANYBODY you care to name!
Ahhh, poor Jester. I'm afraid my brief attempt to stimulate his brain proved to be too much for him.
Well, sleep on, my friend, sleep on... blissfully unaware of how your very nature simply prevents you from leading a life as interesting as my own.
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(©Now by DJ Birtcher just before realizing now would
be a great time to borrow someone's catnip mouse)