The Young and The Useless

This morning I awoke to the sound of  "whack....whack....whack".

Admittedly, my first thought was that the voice in my head thingy (the one that tells me to do bad things) was up to its old tricks. But I quickly realized that the voice that was telling me to "whack...whack...whack" was not originating in my noggin, it was coming from my front yard.

Curious as to who would have the temerity to order me to do something that I would happily do anyway, I decided to investigate.

As I jumped up into my bay window, I beheld the strangest thingy that I have ever beheld. It was something so unusual that I began to suspect that some evil scientist thingy had been running amok in the local countryside....again. Or, perhaps radiation had leaked into the local water table and mutated the local wildlife......again. Or, maybe a young wizard was playing hooky from his school and had come to visit the Pacific Northwest and mess around with the local fauna.......Or, possibly that catnip I had for breakfast was affecting my head thingy in adverse ways......again.

All I know is that it was the strangest looking bird thingy (?) I had ever seen. The body somewhat resembled a small chicken. But there the resemblance ended. It's feet were large, flat and webbed, causing it to walk like Rosie O'Donnell approaching an All You Can Eat buffet.

But the most striking aberration of this freak of unnature, was it's head thingy. Imagine this if you dare: It had no beak! In place of a beak, it had the bill of a platypus!

That's right. I have discovered a new species. I am calling it the Platypus-Billed Chicken Thingy (Goofycus Avis Birdius) or P-BCT. The P-BCT seems content to waddle around in circles saying "whack....whack.....whack". 

This set me to pondering....

I once heard that everything in nature is connected. Each creature benefits the life cycle of another creature. Trees provide oxygen, birds nest in trees and eat their fruit and defecate the seeds thereby spreading them and enabling the trees to reproduce. Bees collect pollen from flowers for food, but also spread the pollen to other flowers enabling them to reproduce as well.  Dog thingies clean litter boxes and water trees. Even squirrel thingies have a purpose. They are a major source of protein.

The P-BCT seems to serve no such purpose. It is too ugly to eat and too cute to kill. Nothing that goofy looking could serve as a tool for terror and it shows no inclination towards chaos. I showed it to Ivan and while it did confuse him, I could draw no amusement from his confusion.

After much pondering, I have finally reached a conclusion:

The P-BCT serves no discernible purpose. It is a null-effect organism. It harms nothing and benefits no one.

As far as I have been able to ascertain, there has been only one other null-effect organism ever documented.

However scientists are still studying Justin Beiber.

Reality Bites

Today, Ivan was stalking me.

I knew he was stalking me because he's not very good at it.

He has good intentions, but fails miserably when it comes down to the actual stalking process.

Most cats will sneak from hidey hole to hidey hole, with the utmost stealth and cunning. Silently sneaking up on their intended victim, taking care to remain undetected until the optimal pouncing opportunity. Ivan's system of stalking basically involves him walking leisurely down the hallway, snickering while muttering under his breath: "Ooooh, I'ma gonna get him this time. He not gonna get away. I'm big sneaky cat. I gonna jump on him and chew his head. He never see me comin."

His stalking technique would probably be quite successful if he were stalking a deaf, dumb and blind inanimate object whose sense of smell was impaired (or a squirrel). But, he was stalking me and I was well aware of his feeble attempt.

However, never let it be said that I do not have my magnanimous moments. I decided to pretend not to see (or hear, or smell) his approach. When he got within three tailspans, he pounced. Unfortunately, Ivan's pounce has never exceeded more than 1.5 tailspans and he fell woefully short. Feigning surprise, I jumped straight up into the air and poofed. We then fell into a heap of fur, claws and teeth and wrassled on the coffee table for a few minutes.

Now you may be wondering by now how this is different from our normal daily activities. The answer is that it really isn't. Except for one detail: In the process of wrasslin, I rolled over the remote control thingy and accidentally turned on the talking box thingy.

The talking box thingy is generally not turned on while the two leggers are away and so we are seldom exposed to daytime programming. This incident turned out to be somewhat of an education. It seems that daytime talking box thingy shows consist of what the two leggers describe as "reality shows". These shows are supposed to depict "real" two leggers engaging in "real" situations.

I was amused.

After being exposed to approximately six hours of  "reality", I decided that my minions and I could come up with a better show than what we watched today. Actually, a drug-addicted autistic chimpanzee with post-traumatic stress disorder could come up with a better show, but given the fact that the last drug-addicted autistic chimpanzee with post-traumatic stress disorder I knew left town last year, I'll have to produce the show myself. And so I give you:

The Idols of Real Housecats Who Dance With Honey Boo Boo

Our show begins with Ivan and Tiger Lily who live in a trailer on the outskirts of town. After guzzling several bottles of catnip tea, Ivan begins smacking Tiger Lily around (catfights are a staple of "reality"shows). As Tiger Lily whines about being beaten, Bob and the goat thingies judge her performance.

"Oh, she's FABULOUS!" exclaims Bob.

"Baaaaaa" says Goat Thingy #1

"Baaaaaa" says Goat Thingy #2

By receiving two "Baaaas", Tiger Lily is deemed the "weakest link", voted off the island and summarily executed.

In the meantime, I retrieve Jaq from the closet where she has been providing the musical score by singing an assortment of Sinead O'Conner's greatest hit (intentionally singular).

We begin dancing and another catfight breaks out.

Bob says: "FABULOUS!"

Goat Thingy #1 says: "Baaaaaaa"

Goat Thingy #2 says: "Baaaaaaa"

Receiving two "Baaaaaa's", Tiger Lily is once again deemed the "weakest link", voted off the island and summarily executed.

The show concludes with scenes from next week's episode in which Tiger Lily is deemed the "weakest link", voted off the island and summarily executed.

I smell a Daytime Grammy Award in my future.

Nevermind, that was just Ivan in the litterbox.   

    

Educating The Masses

I have been pondering and I feel that it is time that I take action.

As many of you know, I spend a bit of time on The Zuckerburger's FaceBook thingy. I chat with minions, play games with minions and enjoy posting snide comments on the timelines of dogs and squirrel thingies. Aside from my FaceBook fan club, I also follow several groups dedicated to cats and those enslaved by cats.

However, I have begun to notice a certain disturbing trend emerging from these feline based groups. Two leggers have started bragging about how sweet, caring and well-behaved their cats are. They share tender pictures depicting these "cats" touching noses with various other four leggers such as dog thingies, miniature horse thingies, gerbils (food), hamsters (also food), chickens (bigger food), and even....gasp.....squirrel thingies (fast food).

This is not acceptable! This is intolerable! This is....well...unethical!

We are cats!

We are apex predators!

We are the masters of all we survey!

My first thought was to send a severe nastygram to each and every cat that violates these laws of nature. But after much pondering, I have decided that instead of chastisement, I shall endeavor to educate my fellow feline four leggers.

This education will take more than a simple lengthy email. The behavior I have witnessed on FaceBook requires a much stronger dose of learning. So here is my solution:

 The University of Cujo's College of Chaos

At  The University of Cujo's College of Chaos your feline masters will be taught the skills required to regain their rightful spot at the top of the household food chain. I am in the process of building a curriculum of classes that will benefit and enlighten all students. Here are some examples of the many services that will soon be available at UCCC:

Music Depreciation 101- Professor Jaq will teach your feline how to softly sing irritating commercial jingles to any sleeping two legger thereby insuring that the jingle will remain in the two legger's head for a minimum of 17 hours. Professor Jaq also directs the 3am show choir.

Our Athletic Department is headed by Coach Ivan. Coach Ivan will provide instruction in such skills as:
The Crooked Tail Scamper
Creative Flatulence
Hairballs For Dummies
Basic Dust Bunny Disposal
He will also offer a self-defense course in Tae Kwan Chomp.

The Art of Fine Whines will be taught by Professor Tiger Lily. The skills learned in this class are guaranteed to be useful for waking any two legger that has the temerity to sleep past 4:30am. Earplugs for students will be provided upon request.

As President, Founder and Dean, (actually I don't like being called Dean, I shall be the Larry) and Larry of UCCC I will teach many classes such as:
How to Hide Evidence and Intimidate The Witnesses
Choosing The Right Knock Knacks to Knock
The Science of The Smack
Hairball Placement
The Myth of The Red Dot
Scratching Post Etiquette
Painting With Bacon Grease
Forensics and How To Subvert Them
Decorating With Bloodsplatter
Cuteness and How To Use It To Your Advantage

UCCC will be accepting student applications for 90 days prior to the beginning of each semester.
Tuition must be paid in full seven days prior to the beginning of each semester. Tuition prices will be decided upon completion of all courses. All students must provide their own lodging, scratching post, litter box, faculty-approved catnip mousie thingie, and a #2 pencil. Being thumbless, we can't use a #2 pencil, but Coach Ivan likes to chew on the erasers.

I look forward to a productive school year.

Ivan Knows Football

Lately, many of my minions have expressed a wish to hear from Ivan again.

Many have also expressed a desire to hear my NFL Playoff predictions. Football bores me because it is not violent enough for my refined tastes and Ivan spends the majority of his Sunday afternoons sitting in the lap of the male two legger watching football. So I figured I could kill two bird thingies with one swat and allow Ivan to give his NFL playoff predictions.

If this goes horribly wrong, as I predict it will, remember, you have no else to blame.

And so once again, I turn the floor over to Ivan:

Ooops, hold a sec, first I have to pry Ivan's claws out of the carpet. When I said I was turning the floor over to him, he thought that I was about to actually turn the floor over and panicked. Now I have convinced him that the floor will stay horizontal and he is coming to the computer typey thingy. And so I present.......Ivan.

Ummmm, Boss says I gotta make words again. He says I gotta pick who gonna win football games. He says I know bunches about football. 

I dunno, but I try.

He help me orgaensz...um....erganze.....um....argeniz.....um....arrange my picks:

Bengals against Texans- Bengal is big cat. Texan drinks beer and drives truck. Bengal wins.

Colts against Ravens- Colt is little horse. Raven is big black bird thingy that eats garbage. Little horse kicks big black bird bird thingy, but big black bird thingy flies away. Bengal wins.

Vikings against Packers- Viking is big two legger that uses axe. Packer has head made outta cheese. Viking is distracted by cheese, lays down axe and forgets to play. Packer picks up axe and kills big black bird thingy eating garbage. Packer wins.

Seahawks against Redskins- Seahawk is another big bird thingy. It does not eat garbage, but is very loud. Redskin is two legger with a rash. Seahawk flies while Redskin scratches. Seahawk wins.

Sekond Round:

Broncos against Bengals- Broncos is bigger horse, but Bengal still a cat. Bengal wins.

Ravens against Patriots- Raven is still big black bird thingy. Patriot is....ummm....not. Raven wins.

Packers against 49ers- I dunno what a 49er is but I think that there are almost fifty of them. They from  California where all two leggers are lackto......um..laxtos...um.....can't have milk. They cannot have cheese. Packer wins

Seahawks against Falcons- Battle of big bird thingies. Bengals win.

Thurd Round:

Bengals against Ravens-Cat eats big black bird thingy.

Packers against Seahawks-Big Bird thingy cuts the cheese and makes lotsa noise. Seahawk wins.

Superbowl Thingy:

Bengals against Seahawks- Bengal eats Seahawk. Seahawk bones choke Bengal. Ivan eats both. 

Ivan wins.  

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Shutterbugged

I am well aware that I have been neglecting my minions for the last week or so.

It is not my fault.

I shall explain:

The two leggers have decided that my reign should be documented through photography, and so they sent for The Royal Photographer, Erica. Oh, they will say that since Erica is one of their offspring and she and her mate, Kelly were only visiting for the holidays, but it is a ruse. They simply told me that so that I would "relax and act naturally".

The members of my FaceBook fan club are already familiar with Erica and her talent for taking picture thingies, but for those of you who are not, allow me to tell you about her.

Erica and her mate live in a place called North Pole, Alaska. The United States Air Force banished them there just over a year ago. Alaska is a place in the farthest region of the North American Continent that is home to bears, mooses, eskimos and other assorted wildlife. It is cold, dark and it snows 425 days a year.Within a few weeks of her arrival, she was bitten by a parisite that is common in those parts and as yet incurable: Gottitakus Picturus. Otherwise known as the "shutterbug". This parasite causes its host to go out and buy photography equipment and take pictures of all they see. It is a relatively harmless condition and can actually become beneficial if the patient is exposed to a subject worth taking pictures of. (such as myself).

Since being infected, Erica has spent most of her free time wandering the great wilds of the north snapping away like a woman possessed. She has photos of stars, auroras, moose, eagles and various other subjects. She has even been able to document the behavior of Alaska's native tribe of aboriginal hockey players. (Homo Erectus Puckien) These natives are very shy and reclusive. One must be very careful when studying them. Often, if they suspect that they are being observed, they will suddenly throw off their gloves and begin fighting among themselves. Some have been semi-domesticated and can be identified by the dents in their heads and the utter lack of teeth. Erica's mate, Kelly, has attempted to "go native" and has been accepted by them and is often allowed to participate in their rituals.

So anyway, for the last week, Erica has been happily snapping away. Every time I raise my head, she is there. Every time I wake from a nap, she is there. She is there when I am eating, she is there when I am bathing. She is there when I am preparing to smack Tiger Lily (this falls under the heading of "evidence" and will be destroyed at my earliest convenience).

And it's not just me, she has been taking pictures of everyone. Tiger Lily, Jaq, Ivan, even the deer thingies have fallen victim to clicky-click of the shutter and the flashy-flash of the ....well,...flash.

 Jaq has been working it. She struts around acting all sweet and demure while singing "Eye in The Sky" under her breath. Tiger Lily has been whining about it non-stop because she soon realized that I will not smack her with all this surveillance equipment laying about (she'll pay later, trust me) Ivan is confused. This led to some amusement after I convinced him that Erica hid a camera thingy in the litter box and made him too paranoid to potty.

In the meantime, I have decided to make lemonade from the lemons that this has handed me. I have invented a new game. I call it: "Mission Imposeable". Basically, I strike a regal pose, wait for Erica to grab her camera, focus..... wait for it........and using my keen feline senses, a nanosecond before she takes the picture, I turn away. This is followed by a great wailing and gnashing of teeth, (hers, not mine) and then I resume the pose. I could play this for hours. I mix it up at times, laying in an unusual manner, feigning sleep, listening as she attempts to stalk me, and then when all is in place, I jump up, lift a leg and clean my nether regions. I suspect she curses me and cries when I am out of the room.

I have nothing against my picture being taken, so occasionally I will allow her to take a usable photograph. It gives her encouragement to continue amusing me.

If you would like to see Erica's amazing talent as well as The Royal Portaiture, please feel free to visit and "like" her FaceBook photography page: Erica Jansen Photography.

She leaves my Kingdom tomorrow, so I must now go and cause as much mayhem as I can before she and her mate depart.

I wish all my minions a very happy and blessed New Year! I assure you that my quest for Universal Domination continues.

One last thingy: If Ivan should ask, the CIA has developed surveillance cameras that resemble litter nuggets.

All pictures courtesy of Erica Jansen Photography

The Stench That Stole Christmas

Up in the vast rainy region
Of the Pacific Northwest,
There lived Ivan The Tolerable,
An orange, stinky pest.

He was constantly grumpy.
Always wearing a scowl.
If anyone dared pet him,
He'd give them a growl.

Ivan hated everything
For no apparent reason.
But the thing he hated most
Was the Christmas Season.

He hated the decorations.
He hated the lights.
The fat guy in red,
His elves wearing tights.

The sounds of two leggers
Enjoying their party,
Would turn Ivan's stomach
And make him all farty.

What made Ivan so surly?
I'd often stop and wonder.
What had taken Ivan's spirit?
And torn it asunder?

Was it a lack of heart?
That gave him such disdain?
No, I felt it went much deeper.
Perhaps his lack of brain.

Change confuses Ivan,
Confusion makes him mean.
And during this time of year,
 Many changes can be seen.

Two leggers treat each other nicer.
A smile on every face.
They greet each other with handshakes
Or a warm, heartfelt embrace.

They decorate their houses,
They fill the rooms with glee.
All of this goodwill
Makes Ivan want to flee.

Since I am Ivan's boss,
I knew what must be done,
We'll have an intervention,
And restore his sense of fun.

I said "Hey Ivan, lookit me"
As I tore a Christmas stocking.
"Christmas can be so much fun!"
As I set the tree to rocking.

"Try smacking a shepherd!,
 Let's eat an elf!
We'll knock all those fairies
 Right off of that shelf!"

I knew I was making progress
When Ivan started to grin.
He poofed his tail, began to trill,
And then he jumped in.

He bit, he chomped,
He kicked and he slashed.
And when he was finished,
My whole house was trashed.

Finally exhausted,
He lay gently and napped.
Laying upon a tree branch
He'd recently snapped.

As I sat watching him,
I knew I'd done well.
As I looked at the carnage,
I felt my heart swell.

My eyes have been opened.
At last I can see.
The true meaning behind
Those lights and that tree.

It is not about stuff,
Not about a game or a toy
It is about doing all those things
That give your heart joy.

To all my minions: Have a very merry and safe Christmas. I hope all your Christmas wishes come true. (Especially if your Christmas wish is for me to finally attain my goal of Universal Domination)

The Sum of All Fears

Once again, it is time for me to dig deep into the mineshaft of my wisdom and present to you yet another shiny nugget of knowledge.

Tonight, after many requests, I shall share with you the secret of one of the many mysteries that continue to confound two leggers and amuse their feline superiors.

Scientist thingies over the years have reached the conclusion that the average house cat weighs between 12 and 15 pounds, stands approximately .85 tailspans in height and is around 1.68 tailspans in length. Given these measurements, a cat that is fully sprawled, completely relaxed and totally spread out, should cover no more than 2.4 square feet of real estate on any given surface.

Any two legger that has ever been enslaved by cats knows that though the math may be correct, the result is erroneous. In reality, a cat of the above mentioned size and weight is actually capable of covering 80-90% of any bed, chair, couch or kitchen counter.  The area of the surface does not matter. If a two legger has need of the surface, whether it be for sleeping, sitting, lounging or cooking, the resident cat is capable.....nay...required...to occupy as much of the surface as is suitable in order to disrupt the activity that the two legger wishes to accomplish.

We do this through the simple application of Cathmatics. Cathmatics is the feline ability to flatten and spread oneself out in order to maximize coverage. We implement a series of very scientific formulas to figure out optimum sprawlage. I could tell you the exact cathmatic calculations we use, but I choose not to. Suffice it to say that it has a lot of numbers, letters and little squiggly signs that professors put on chalk boards at major universities because they look cool and confuse the janitors.

I will however, let you in on one of the secrets of maximum sprawlage.

We do not actually cover as much area as we appear to. We also take advantage of The Corona of Claws and Effect. The CCE is an region of space extending approximately six inches beyond the tip of an outstretched paw. Anything entering the CCE is capable of being slain, mutilated or smacked without warning. The two legger brain thingy subconsciously perceives this region and causes the two legger to see us as being larger than we actually are. This is a self preservation trait that has evolved in the two legger brain thingy over eons of living with cats.

I sincerely hope that this answers some of your questions.

If you find it confusing, well, that's just a bonus.