Behold My Power of Observation

Hello.  My name is Victor, the owner of the Human, Kelly.  The human slave (I lovingly refer to him)  gives me food, drink and shelter while I carefully observe his race who call themselves Human Beings.  I, on the other hand, have a more apt name for them.  They will always be DumbAsses to me- or any other living being, besides Humans, on this planet.

Hey Humans, while you're not polluting the planet, exploiting it's resources, killing each other and treating those who don't have much of this sad excuse of an outdated medium (you call money) for the exchange of goods with great disdain, as if they have less value than a pile of roach crap, could you do something useful- like helping each other out?  Ah, fuck it... just keep texting each other about the same old mundane crap.

You think the wilderness is full of terrors, viciousness and challenges for survival for us low level animals....  Try living within the Human Race.  They actually try to make it harder on themselves.  Increasingly so with every day and year that passes.  Here's a whip, Fucko!  Go flay yourself like you know you want it- real bad.  Do the whipping of your backs and minds with your head in the "sands of denial" or in the "sands of acknowledging what's wrong but you're going along with it because it's easier that way".  Yeah, that's the way you guys do it.

Then injure or destroy someone else.  Put on another good show.  Call it a war.  Kill people for gods and/or greed!

Your big old brains, that you're so impressed by, have conjured many new and exciting ways to hurt one another with each year.  Someone who is innocent- or not- can get a taste.  And by the way, it isn't any fun unless you're engaging in one or two bloody wars at the same time.  So I've seen from most of you.  And you think I am just lying around, sleeping, licking my crotch and chasing bugs.  Ah-Ha!  Can you not see the power in these glowing yellow eyes?

I've got some very predicatable news for you, Humans.  The rest of us seemingly less worthy animals- which you also treat with your varied obvious degrees of indifference, with the exception of a minority of you, can see you've been acting like imbeciles for so long, that now you flaunt it, flamboyantly, and accept stupidity from one another like it's the greatest sunset that's ever appeared out of God's Asshole.  (Newt, Romney, Santorum, Bachmann)  Those are just a few politician's names.  I haven't mentioned any names from any other categories, like from the wealthy elite,the indifferent majority, the spectacularly cruel... and so on.  Most of you Dumbasses, I find, in the end, are interchangeable.

I was reading what this man, Ralph Nader, said about your typical  Human greed for money among politicians, and when you get down to it, everyone else.  Literally or not, you Humans stick knives in each other's backs and allow pricks to rule over you while they tell the poor and the general public, in general, to go fuck themselves as you allow it to happen.  A good many have protested such behavior of the wealthy elite among you.  I have nothing but respect for them.

When you're done destroying what you can of the planet before you cause almost complete extinction of your own kind, I will cheerfully dine on your thigh as you quiver and blubber and begin to decay.  I will do it as you go through your death rattle- or even during your last words before taking your last breath.

My advice for you, as far as last words go, would go something like this-  "I did try to, at least, do a little something about all the corruption and did do one selfless act for another Human in my lifetime- or maybe not."  But hey,  if you did do something positive, Human, about the Human Condition or help someone or animal out, then BIG KUDOS goes to you.  I'd give you a hug but I'm too busy allowing Kelly to pet my coat of fur and then go into the kitchen for a treat made of ingredients that may be healthier than the slop they serve at these places DumbAsses, er, I mean, Humans, call fast food restaurants.  Maybe it's the equivalent.  Eh.  Who knows?  Where's my catnip?  This ranting is giving me a downer.  I need a buzz.

Speaking of slop, do you know that most Humans are ruled by their egos (slop) than their brains.  Imagine the mistakes that would be made by a race like that.  Yeah.  I mean...  How concerned are they with anything but themselves?  Catnip for thought.  

Like I said, there were/are a few of you who get it.  Here's one of them now.  His name was George Carlin. He wasn't just a extraordinarily funny Human.  He was an observer, who explained in detail, what was wrong with his race.  In the last six or seven years of life, especially, he painstakingly wrote books, put on comedy concerts and gave out words of wisdom that some got and some that didn't.  Pity to those who don't get it.  Pity to those that are close minded.

Here's your typical Human doing something more constructive than destroying his own home planet.  He's making a snot bubble.  Sure, he's no Rembrandt or Da Vinci but he may just be expressing a form of art  that no Humans have ever embraced before.  Humans are not exactly the open minded type when it comes to accepting change or differences in each other.  If you look closely, you can see that this guy has snot bubbles within snot bubbles.  I wish my hairballs looked that good.

I sincerely hope I'm inspiring you with the magic I'm creating out of my left nostril.

Here's another Human that gets it.  Bernie Sanders. Don't ya love it, when every so often, some Human speaks the truth?  Sometimes they have to have something dramatic happen to them during their lives or a sudden epiphany that helps them not be afraid to be open, honest and speak the truth without fear of repercussions from DumbAsses, er, I mean, Humans, of course.

Oh well.  Meanwhile, while you Humans go about your day, ignoring everything around you and perhaps creating chaos or being part of the problem, I'm just going to lay here and wait for the smoke to clear.  But, if I'm about to be wiped out, suddenly or I end up suffering an unpleasant existence because of your Human's Love for Self-Destructive Insanity, I can at least say I didn't have anything at all to do with it.

Here we see Humans sticking their faces up fake Humans' asses instead of up in their own, attempting to put the entire head in.  That way they can see no evil, hear no evil and be completely and blissfully ignorant of the world around them

It's Humans who are always at fault, in the end.  How many Human civilizations have passed, really, on this planet?  I wonder how many civilizations have passed due to their ignorance, cruelty and indifference.  I gotta say one thing for them...   Humans have that brilliant ability and natural ease where they can pass the responsibility of their negative actions on to whoever they deem fit or not accept it at all.  Yeah... Gee... I wonder what the end result of that attitude would be in the end?  Ah, well....

Have a great day, Humans!  Now pass me the catnip before your civilization's time is up!

Lion Tries To Eat Baby at Zoo

This is adorable. See the lion open up it's mouth real wide to... Well, I don't want to give too much away.



Lions are cute when they're that age. Wish I could say the same for that horrible little thing making all of that annoying noise.

A Typical, But Not Completely, Typical Day

I woke up, today, around 11:00, after about fours of sleep. Seems like I can't sleep any longer than that, lately, without waking up from some strange dream. They're mostly "guilt dreams". I'm only theorizing about that. But I guess I've been burying my conscious and it only escapes during my sleep. This beast has been having it's fun with me for the past month and IT is getting mighty annoying.

Pop goes the nasty shit! It's running out of my mind's door! Unfortunately, it's still in my sleepy head, where it stays trapped. Fuckin' guilt! I liked it better when I didn't dream. A decent sex dream would be welcome, for certain.

When I'm awake, I don't think about anything "I believe" I've done wrong. Normally. But, like the therapist pointed out during one session several years ago... He said I persecute myself and think I deserve punishment for things I've said or have done towards people. He also said that I seem to have the tendency to formulate it in my head like whatever I said or did- to be blown out of proportion. He based it on things I had said, when I was around this or that person, from other sessions.

Makes sense. So now the shitty goop of misplaced or unwarranted guilt is popping up in my dreams. Ah, how nice. But I'm going to confront it head on and admit that I'm not that bad a person and carry on... Even if it takes a hammer to my head to knock the evil goop out my ears. I can't afford therapy at the moment, so I'm going to do battle with my stupid brain, by myself. Like Homer Simpson, I'm going to give it a good talking to and tell it who's boss. If that doesn't work, it's HAMMER TIME, baby.

As I was saying, I woke up, made coffee, petted the cat and put two Bacon and Cheese Hot Pockets in the microwave. Soon enough, I ate them and played my messages on the answering machine. One was from the wifey, telling me she made it to work alright. Good. Next, was the receptionist from my doctor's office. She was letting me know that my insulin pens for my diabetes came in from the patient assistance program. Definitely good news. They had messed up the order of insulin last time and if I hadn't caught that it was the wrong stuff-- when I picked it up from the doctor's office, I could have taken it home, injected it into myself and.... Who knows?

After that, I showered, made supper for later tonight and got my clothes on. That's right! I was cooking in the nude! Excited? No? Alrighty then. Anyway, while I was managing to cook up some Tuna Helper, the cat started going nuts when he smelled the tuna cans I was opening. He kept leaping on my legs as the cans slowly turned round and round the electric can opener. At one point, I thought he was going to strike at my lopsided nutsack and rip into it. Then my precious jelly beans would fall out! Then I would feel blue. My solution is to give him a can of Fancy Feast cat food in a can. It's something we give him as a treat, once in awhile. It says on the can that it is Whitefish and Tuna flavored. Ah ha... That will fool him, I think, patting myself on the back.

I set the bowl of juicy, succulent cat food down on the floor (are you as horny as I am?) and he eats it like a little piggy. His normal bowl of cat food is sitting there, halfway full, next to the water bowl. He's a spoiled little bastard. But then I feel sorry for him because he is our only "child" now. Mufasa, our eldest cat, died, recently. We only have Victor now. He's loving and playful and lonely. We plan on getting him a playmate after Christmas. It's too hectic these days and it takes patience to train a kitten, which is what we'll be looking for when the time comes. No pound kitties, though. We had extremely bad luck with that. That was years ago. Max the Cat was his name and shitting behind and beneath megaton furniture, for no good reason, was his game. Sometimes we didn't find his piss and shit surprises until it was too late. Almost needless to say, Max was returned before I could kill him. We gave him four weeks too many. If I wanted to clean up shit for longer than four weeks, I would have had a friggin' kid. No thanks. There's already enough breeders in this world as it is. Many of them aren't equipped with enough brains or conscious to do battle with themselves.

But, on the same token, responsible parents are just as easy to spot.

I say we give the rotten adults an abortion. Or... Any more than two kids, then you have to give up your genitals. Sorry. Rules are rules and we know how humans love their rules. Lap dog, over breeding imbeciles that don't put on their turn signal when they're changing lanes, by damned it! What was I talking about? Damn those voices in my head.

Immediately, when I finished cooking, I got dressed, brushed my teeth, put on my jacket and hat and out the door I went. I went to doctor's office to pick up the insulin pens, went to the grocery store to pick up lunch meat and bread, went to get monetarily raped at the gas station where the gas is currently at $2.85 a gallon and then I went back home. I checked to see if they got my insulin order right this time. They did! Jackpot! I get to live a couple more months. Hooray. And stuff. After putting everything away, I got back in the truck and drove to the park, with haste.

I had to get my daily park walking done in a hurry. It would be dark soon and wifey was going to be home in a half hour. I try to be there for her so I can be a good husband and not get a beating with the baseball bat. I'm so abused. OK. I might be exaggerating just a little. But she does confide in me that she would like to cut my dick off while I'm asleep. But strangely, that's not why I have trouble sleeping at night. By the way, I laugh when she says such things because I threaten to twist her nipple off now and then. It's like an ongoing comedy routine we have going on. 21 years. Quite healthy.

So off to the park I go. The first person I see is the guy by the athletics supply building. This building sits close to the tennis court that is hardly used and still looks new and the basketball court, nearby, that is the same way. The guy, I'm guessing, is the guy who takes care of supplying the athletes with enough balls and stuff to do their thing. The door was open, obviously, with a key. He looked at me, giving off a little vibe of nervousness. Maybe I imagined it.

All I've ever seen, as far as any games being played at the park, is two Pee Wee football games attended by millions of crazed parents and the other times when a couple kids were playing a few basketball games. Anybody else you see in that park are walkers, runners, people trying to fish at a lake without fish and the park employees. Maybe once a week, you'll see a cop car run through the park. If you wanted to, you could probably get away with fucking, sucking, fisting, lickin' the va-jay-jay and other horseplay down at the large gazebo by the lake without too much trouble. Party time.

Anyway, the supply guy at the building says, ""It's getting colder out here."

I say, "Yeah, it is."

Hell, I don't know what else to say. Supply Guy didn't give me much to work with. By the way, it was getting colder. It was about 45 degrees Fahrenheit at the time. For the rest of you, in other countries, I have no idea what that is in Celsius. I won't check, either, because I'm American and don't give a shit. I think that's the American Way. The metric system can go fuck itself, too. The last person who tried to teach me the metric system was a nun from the parochial school I attended. I rammed a pencil in her eye. Not to worry, though. It was a No. 2 Pencil. And she cried out, "Praise da Lawd!"

After walking the usual path, I find a second person. He is walking toward me from the other direction. He looks like he could be crazy. He's wearing a grey coat with a black sock cap on his head. So I nod to him and do what most folks do in that situation. I say, "Hi.", without really looking at him. He does nothing but nod his head, not wanting to be bothered by my evil, intrusive greetings and keep his hands in his pockets. I wonder if he's hiding Barbie Doll heads in his pockets. Then I wonder if they still have the bathrooms locked or unlocked up ahead in the yellow building. I have problems with my butt. It likes to shit. Although I'm not at the stage of routine adult diaper wear, I have had an accident at the park because they will lock them when it gets closer to winter. During that accident, it was so cold... The turds froze to my leg underneath my pants. Talk about feeling blue... and brown.

When I got home, I was able to shake a leg to pop the turdcicles from the very bottoms of my pants legs.

Minutes go by during my walk now. I have to stop every five to ten minutes because of my foot conditions. I have inoperable 2 and a half inch heel spurs (my feet have been X-rayed so many times, I lost count) and equinus deformity on both feet. The heel spurs have connected to the rest of the bones in my footsies. It's like walking on railroad spikes with misshapen, unbalanced feet. I've tried everything so spare me the advice that I've heard a billion times. Thanks, anyway, stranger. I've done my time with the fancy insoles, shoes and whatever. I've had almost thirty years of experience with it. But I force myself to walk short distances, anyway, because I still need to exercise. It's called perseverance, people. I was going to the gym almost every day for a year and a half and lost thirty pounds but that routine got fucked up during the continuous moving fiasco with my dad's old place that lasted 6 weeks. Now, I'm just trying to keep up with my walking routine.

Regardless, I see a couple walking their pet dog. It has a pink outfit on. I restrain myself from killing the couple. I smile, then say, "Hi. How are you tonight?" They say something back but it doesn't matter. I'm not listening. I'm still thinking of the poor dog in the pink cowboy outfit. As I walk further, I wonder if it's too late to limp back and bash the couple in their heads, thus freeing the dog. Then I think, Well the next thing to happen, if successful, would be the dog rewarding me, with it's rescue of it, by biting a finger off from my hand and taking my nose off my face. Oh well. I keep walking. No good deed goes unpunished. This has always been especially true, in my experience.

In conclusion, I struggle through the rest of my walk, make it home in time before the wife, serve her and I supper and watch a couple shows that we pre-recorded the night before. We talk for awhile. My wife goes to bed early. She's tired. It's getting busier where she works. And now, I'm typing on this keyboard and telling you I'm about to sign off. Who knows? I may come to your blog and leave a comment. Ah, can you feel the excitement?

Behold! You are at the end of this journey I took you on, brave soldier. You must celebrate by flagellating yourself. Or by fixing yourself a hot cup of coffee. Your choice. I won't peek.

Dangling Objects

This following story was forwarded to me by my dear old Aunty Kay. I have no idea if it's true or not but I found it to be funny.

We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't think anyone can top this one:

Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable.. No matter how legitimate my excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying.

On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the truth was just too darned humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on the top of my head. The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty.
Initially, the new acquisition was no problem.

Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.

'Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it.'

'You know where the button is,' I protested through the shower pitter-pa tter and steam. 'Reset it yourself!'

'But I'm scared!' she persisted. 'What if it starts going and sucks me in?'

There was a meaningful pause and then, 'C'mon, it'll only take you a second.'

So out I came, dripping wet and butt naked, hoping that my silent outraged nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behaviour as extremely cowardly.

Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing.

It struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances. No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth.. It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she spied hanging between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine region.

Wild animals are sometimes faced with a 'fight or flight' syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the 'flight' option. I know this from experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent.
The impact knocked me out cold.

When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me.

Now there are not many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying on the kitchen floor butt naked in front of a group of 'been-there, done-that' paramedics.
Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying to suppress their hysterical laughter......and not succeeding.

Somehow I lived through it all. A few days later I finally made it back in to the office, where colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me about my head injury. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about, which it was.

'What's the matter?' They all asked, 'Cat got your tongue?'

Poor Tiger

This is my sister's cat. His name is Tiger -but I don't think the poor bastard feels very tiger-ish these days. Hurts just looking at him. When I first saw the photo, I winced while feeling vomit and coffee burbling up my throat.

Methinks my younger sibling has a somewhat evil, twisted sense of humor. Do you think it might run in the family? :)

Here's the email message she sent, a couple days ago, along with this photo. I double-dog dare you to click and enlarge the pic.

This is our male cat, Tiger. He was just neutered today, so his bikini area is shaved and you can get a good look at his junk. Oh, yes, that is his telescopic penis.

You're welcome.

Puff-A-Lump and Krazy Kitty

I have two cats. The orange haired cat is Victor. Mom named him shortly before passing away. He's two years old and very affectionate. Sometimes I call him Krazy Kitty. For good reason. The other cat is named Mufasa, after a cartoon character in the Lion King movie. This calico is getting on in her years but still enjoys playing. She is cute, plump and enjoys hissing at people, cats and little children.

Cats are, in my opinion, more intelligent and sophisticated than dogs. Dogs tend to be really needy for attention and love. Cats don't give a shit. I like that. That kind of personality gels perfectly with mine. Wonder why. Ha and ho. Where a dog will jump up and down and throw his/her dirty paws on your nice, spiffy dress pants and then lick his balls like there's no tomorrow, a cat will stare at you as if you're a complete retard when you beg for it to come over to where you stand.

Victor is a pretty smart feline. But he does enjoy taking advantage of our love for him. Lately, he has been engaging in this nasty habit of collapsing in our baskets of fresh clean towels, not long after taking them out of the dryer. Here, you can see he is quite comfortable. When he's hot, he'll go into the bedroom, press the on button on the air conditioner and sit on the end of the bed, directly in front of it. What's more, before he leaves the room, he'll turn the air conditioner off.

Another trick of his, is upon hearing someone outside our door, he will jump straight up, five feet, eleven inches to look through the peep hole. Victor is nimble, as well.

I have two little stuffed gorillas. One black. One white. Originally, they were Valentine Day gifts for my wife. Both of them whistle, when you press their paws, as if they are whistling at a hot chick. Now the stuffed animals are Victor's toys. When I throw one, Victor will chase it, and sometimes catch it in mid-air. Then he will bring it back and drop it next to my hand. He fetches, just like a dog.

Time to time, he likes to check himself out. He'll go into the bathroom, close the door, stand up and place his paws on the door's full length mirror and stare at himself for a few minutes. I've witnessed this while "dropping the kids off at the pool", so to speak. Ok, that one he does isn't so much a trick as it is odd behaviour.

I call him "Krazy Kitty" because he will run around frantically, nearly tripping me at 5 in the morning, before I've had my first cup of java or have taken a pee. And I'm not a morning person, whatsoever, my friend. I don't know how many times I've nearly tripped and done a "header" into the shower in the morning. He likes to go nutty, chasing the lights on the walls, as well. His head and little paws shake so frantically. Hee hee. Maybe we should turn them off every so often before we have to take him to the cat shrink.

Anyway, I just thought I'd show off my hairy little kids. As you can tell, I'm a bit of a cat freak. Hell, just a freak, in general. And please, try not to look too closely at the picture of me holding Victor. In my defense, I was running a fever and blowing chunks out of both ends at the time.

Dandy Fun.