Chairman of the Bored
SINATRA SPEAKS!
All hell is breaking loose here! Men came and took the big, soft blue things I slept on in the room with the flickering, talking screen. They took the big metal and wooden desk I hid myself and my pretties under. He says men are coming with loud machines and that when they are done, there will be no cat smells, no cat hairs and the stains of my cat barf will be gone from the carpet. He’s moving other things around. The white post-feline-modernist performance art/installation is now back in the flickering screen room. He says other things are also to be moved. Big things are going on outside — I’ve never seen such fat robins and jays; what made them get such big bellies? He tried to feed me some new food, but I showed him and held fast and wouldn’t eat a bit of it. Maybe now he sees who is in charge. I spent all day yesterday charging out from under things and touching his ankles. Doesn’t he know it was April Fools? Dumb humans.
No wonder cats are in charge.
Let me see if I understand the cosmology, here:
Christopher Reeve breaks his fucking neck, but this Indian Superman is allowed prance around like he has a pound of curried pork lodged in his ass? AND manages to pull off the lamest fight scene ever filmed? (His kung-fu was WEAK.)
All I can say is: If there’s a God, she has six arms and likes shitty movies.