Wednesday, November 19, 2003
Feline Exploitation Curiosa
Part 1
I'd like to speak to all of you about an alarming developing trend that has been bothering me for some time. Namely the contagion of kitty cat pornography coursing its way through the circulatory system of our nation's cultural body politic.
First of all let me just say that I have nothing against kitty cats. I like kitty cats too. I too struggle with a bakers dozen, at least, of fond and giddy memories of cherished kitty cat cavorts and cuddly capers. I myself subscribed to Kitty Cat Figurine magazine for nearly twenty five years. I am a survivor myself. Whats more, one of my own favorite kitty cats, beloved and doted on as only a favorite kitty cat can be, recently croaked...I mean passed beyond!...earlier this Spring. It was very sad, perhaps even tragic depending on how much you'd had to drink.
Anyway, I buried her beneath a carpet of flowering forget-me-nots aside a shady woodlot while a small volunteer unit of the local Order of Hibernians played a sad fiddle keen and Saint Anthony himself hovered above a Forsythia bush singing Abide with me; fast falls the eventide.
She was a fine specimen and lived to the ripe old age of 19 or 37, I believe. At least it seemed like 37. Anyhow, she was intelligent too, you betcha, the smartest kitty cat I've ever known. And highly agile. She could leap in an instant from a otherwise motionless stance and deposit herself squarley, razor honed nippers flexed, upon the waiting breastbone of her chosen affection. Which could be a fairly jarring experience, to say the least, especially if one were unprepared for such displays of demonstrative grace. Respected she was.
Respected also for her ability to master complex phonetic relationships and patiently perform intricate outdoor autopsies on an ungodly number of small woodland creatures on an almost daily basis. That's how smart she was. She was like some kind of Spartan feline lamia coroner running around with a hatchet and a seclusion 3-D flea collar. Its was, to be honest for the most part, fairly unmerciful business, and some naysayers claimed she was little more than an attentive furbelow while others insisted she was nothing but a despotic hairy homicidal lunatic who shit in a box of sand and terrorized the pastural meadows and secretive forest floors of her own local critterdom. Kind of like ..well, never mind. In any event, I reject either assertion and suggest she was merely a fearless survivor with an unusual grasp of polysyllabic sounds. Kind of like...well, never mind. And lets face it, even your basic hedgerow or backyard birdhouse is a cacaphony of high pitched shrieks and trills and unholy blood curdling squeals. A seething Tartarus of brutality, genocidal horrors and naked sex crazed depravities. Such are the ways of the forest floor.
But thats not what concerns me here today. What concerns me today is what I like to refer to as nothing short of: The Pussification of Western Maleficence! Thats right. The slow torturous destruction of harmful malefic mischievous western cultural bad-ass evil through the constant repetitious exposure to an unsparing assortment of cloying saccaharine photogenic drivel known as "kitty porn!"
Due to the length and offensive nature of this post I have spilled it over onto my overflow page.
Please continue reading here if you don't know whats good for you.
I'd like to speak to all of you about an alarming developing trend that has been bothering me for some time. Namely the contagion of kitty cat pornography coursing its way through the circulatory system of our nation's cultural body politic.
First of all let me just say that I have nothing against kitty cats. I like kitty cats too. I too struggle with a bakers dozen, at least, of fond and giddy memories of cherished kitty cat cavorts and cuddly capers. I myself subscribed to Kitty Cat Figurine magazine for nearly twenty five years. I am a survivor myself. Whats more, one of my own favorite kitty cats, beloved and doted on as only a favorite kitty cat can be, recently croaked...I mean passed beyond!...earlier this Spring. It was very sad, perhaps even tragic depending on how much you'd had to drink.
Anyway, I buried her beneath a carpet of flowering forget-me-nots aside a shady woodlot while a small volunteer unit of the local Order of Hibernians played a sad fiddle keen and Saint Anthony himself hovered above a Forsythia bush singing Abide with me; fast falls the eventide.
She was a fine specimen and lived to the ripe old age of 19 or 37, I believe. At least it seemed like 37. Anyhow, she was intelligent too, you betcha, the smartest kitty cat I've ever known. And highly agile. She could leap in an instant from a otherwise motionless stance and deposit herself squarley, razor honed nippers flexed, upon the waiting breastbone of her chosen affection. Which could be a fairly jarring experience, to say the least, especially if one were unprepared for such displays of demonstrative grace. Respected she was.
Respected also for her ability to master complex phonetic relationships and patiently perform intricate outdoor autopsies on an ungodly number of small woodland creatures on an almost daily basis. That's how smart she was. She was like some kind of Spartan feline lamia coroner running around with a hatchet and a seclusion 3-D flea collar. Its was, to be honest for the most part, fairly unmerciful business, and some naysayers claimed she was little more than an attentive furbelow while others insisted she was nothing but a despotic hairy homicidal lunatic who shit in a box of sand and terrorized the pastural meadows and secretive forest floors of her own local critterdom. Kind of like ..well, never mind. In any event, I reject either assertion and suggest she was merely a fearless survivor with an unusual grasp of polysyllabic sounds. Kind of like...well, never mind. And lets face it, even your basic hedgerow or backyard birdhouse is a cacaphony of high pitched shrieks and trills and unholy blood curdling squeals. A seething Tartarus of brutality, genocidal horrors and naked sex crazed depravities. Such are the ways of the forest floor.
But thats not what concerns me here today. What concerns me today is what I like to refer to as nothing short of: The Pussification of Western Maleficence! Thats right. The slow torturous destruction of harmful malefic mischievous western cultural bad-ass evil through the constant repetitious exposure to an unsparing assortment of cloying saccaharine photogenic drivel known as "kitty porn!"
Due to the length and offensive nature of this post I have spilled it over onto my overflow page.
Please continue reading here if you don't know whats good for you.
