As we all know, Al Gore was nominated for a Nobel Prize for his work on global warming, so, in retaliation, the Landmark Legal Foundation (a law firm “fighting for conservative principles in America”) tried to nominate Rush Limbaugh for a Nobel Peace Prize, despite the fact that LLF’s president Mark Levin doesn’t seem to be a national government, a past Nobel winner, or the leader of a peace research institute (but he might very well be a patient in an institute of some kind).
And the next thing you know, Scott is nominating his cat for the same prestigious award. And while we have to admit that Riley is certainly much more qualified for a Nobel Prize than the drug addicted, frothing-at-the mouth guy who called a 13-year-old Chelsea Clinton “the White House dog,” we don’t know if we like how everyone is trying to get into the act.
So, we are nominating our cat, Jet Jaguar, for the Nobel War Prize. Sure, Jet would have to beat out such worthies as Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Douglas Feith, as well as intrepid war bloggers like Hindrocket and that Li’l Green Footballs Guy, but Jet is arguably smarter than most of his competition (he is certainly more intelligent than Feith and the bloggers). Plus, he is, in the words of Joe Biden, “the first mainstream black Nobel candidate who is bright and clean and a nice looking feline-American … I mean, that’s a storybook, man.”
Jet deserves this award for a lifetime of waging war on innocent mice, voles, and cat toys, but his most recent actions spotlight his qualifications. See, last Friday I brought home another cat from the pound. (Okay, one more cat is the last thing I needed, but she was going to be put to sleep the next day, and she is really sweet and really pretty, so how could I resist?) She is an adult (between one and two years old, the vet says), and big and fluffy, so apparently Jet perceived her to be a potential threat to his territory in a way that the other, younger additions to the household weren’t. Either that, or he thought she was a Lite-Brite terrorist device.
So, he’s been watching her constantly, not allowing her to eat, sleep, or use the litter box without the knowlege that she is under the vigilant eye of someone who doesn’t necessarily wish her well. She responds with low growls, warning him that she just might have super sharp claws, pointy teeth, and/or atomic weapons. So, while we haven’t actually had war break out, we live in a contant state of uneasiness and dread, making us almost willing to vote for whatever candidate would promise to keep everyone safe. We now have sympathy for James Lileks and the other “Soccor War Mom” demographic.
And, even though things are slowly getting better each day, this is why I am nomiating Jet Jaguar for the Nobel War Prize. Plus, because he promises that if he wins, I can have the prize money to buy him a ton of Fancy Feast.
However, if he isn’t deemed worthy of this award, I would like to nominate Torgo Kitten (AKA “Kit), since he keeps attacking my hands while I try to type, and has drawn blood today — but, unlike Dick Cheney, he didn’t have to use a shot gun to do it.
So,Nobel Committee, it’s now up to you. I look forward to seeing you in Stockholm soon.
P.S. I still haven’t come up with a name for the new girl. She is a dark charcoal gray in color, with white on her face and paws, like a Snow Shoe cat. She has long hair, soft green eyes, and, although she loves to be petted and adored by himans, a rather imperious air with the other cats and the dogs. I’m thinking of either a godess name, or something royal. So far, all I’ve come up with is “Selene” and “Victoria.” (And while the moon goddess name is quite appropriate, I don’t want anyone thinking I named this cat after Celine Dion — and “Victoria” is kind of long for a cat name.)
So, any suggestions you might have would be welcomed.
And the next thing you know, Scott is nominating his cat for the same prestigious award. And while we have to admit that Riley is certainly much more qualified for a Nobel Prize than the drug addicted, frothing-at-the mouth guy who called a 13-year-old Chelsea Clinton “the White House dog,” we don’t know if we like how everyone is trying to get into the act.
So, we are nominating our cat, Jet Jaguar, for the Nobel War Prize. Sure, Jet would have to beat out such worthies as Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Douglas Feith, as well as intrepid war bloggers like Hindrocket and that Li’l Green Footballs Guy, but Jet is arguably smarter than most of his competition (he is certainly more intelligent than Feith and the bloggers). Plus, he is, in the words of Joe Biden, “the first mainstream black Nobel candidate who is bright and clean and a nice looking feline-American … I mean, that’s a storybook, man.”
Jet deserves this award for a lifetime of waging war on innocent mice, voles, and cat toys, but his most recent actions spotlight his qualifications. See, last Friday I brought home another cat from the pound. (Okay, one more cat is the last thing I needed, but she was going to be put to sleep the next day, and she is really sweet and really pretty, so how could I resist?) She is an adult (between one and two years old, the vet says), and big and fluffy, so apparently Jet perceived her to be a potential threat to his territory in a way that the other, younger additions to the household weren’t. Either that, or he thought she was a Lite-Brite terrorist device.
So, he’s been watching her constantly, not allowing her to eat, sleep, or use the litter box without the knowlege that she is under the vigilant eye of someone who doesn’t necessarily wish her well. She responds with low growls, warning him that she just might have super sharp claws, pointy teeth, and/or atomic weapons. So, while we haven’t actually had war break out, we live in a contant state of uneasiness and dread, making us almost willing to vote for whatever candidate would promise to keep everyone safe. We now have sympathy for James Lileks and the other “Soccor War Mom” demographic.
And, even though things are slowly getting better each day, this is why I am nomiating Jet Jaguar for the Nobel War Prize. Plus, because he promises that if he wins, I can have the prize money to buy him a ton of Fancy Feast.
However, if he isn’t deemed worthy of this award, I would like to nominate Torgo Kitten (AKA “Kit), since he keeps attacking my hands while I try to type, and has drawn blood today — but, unlike Dick Cheney, he didn’t have to use a shot gun to do it.
So,Nobel Committee, it’s now up to you. I look forward to seeing you in Stockholm soon.
P.S. I still haven’t come up with a name for the new girl. She is a dark charcoal gray in color, with white on her face and paws, like a Snow Shoe cat. She has long hair, soft green eyes, and, although she loves to be petted and adored by himans, a rather imperious air with the other cats and the dogs. I’m thinking of either a godess name, or something royal. So far, all I’ve come up with is “Selene” and “Victoria.” (And while the moon goddess name is quite appropriate, I don’t want anyone thinking I named this cat after Celine Dion — and “Victoria” is kind of long for a cat name.)
So, any suggestions you might have would be welcomed.
Posted by s.z. on Friday, February 2nd, 2007 at 4:12 pm.
Congratulations Mr. Jaguar for your win of One Million Dollar ($1,000,000,000)Noble War Prize, to collect winnings you are direct to send $10,000 processing fee to our intermediary in Lagos, Nigeria via bank wire with your name telephone address and. You will be contact in 30 days with detail how to claim your prize. Again we all congratulate and wish you the best, God Bless. Look forward to your call, as always.
The CMFA (Conservative Mice For America) is appalled at this nomination. “Next thing you know they’ll be nominating badgers and wolverines. Our own Michael Mouse is much more worthy.”
Well, Diana is a goddess of hunting and could be Darth Cheney’s nemesis, but I liked “Snow Shoe”. If you want to go with the war theme, she could be Xena.
Props to trashfire and edward. Still chuckling…
Props to trashfire and edward. Still chuckling…
Well, this has nothing to do with anything…but as a cat enthusiast, I must say that kitty sounds like a Jolene to me. Why? Dunno. Do I win a Peace Prize?
There’s always “Luna”. And may I also congratulate Jet on his nomination. Sure, “Nobel-nominated” is just a fancy way of saying “loser”, but I have every confidence in him. Plus everything on him to win.
Don’t let me down, Jet!
Don’t let me down, Jet!
Aw, she sounds really sweet and pretty! “Maggie” seems to fit for no particular reason.
Jet Jaguar? No. I think the Prize should go to my puppy Cagney, who has so far chewed on many nice shoes, electric cords that were plugged into an outlet, and a pen whose spilled contents have wrecked the bedroom’s carpet. And I won’t even make lame puns about ‘pee’ and ‘peace’.
Can Jet brag of such accomplishments?
Can Jet brag of such accomplishments?
“Maybelle”?
Metztli was the Aztec goddess of the night.
Mah (Persian: ماہ ), or Mohor (middle Persian), or Maonghah (Avestan), is a divine entity of Zoroastrianism, a Yazata in the service of the supreme Creator Ahura Mazda, and an important figure in Persian mythology.
In Zoroastrianism, Mah represents mental harmony (inner peace). In angelology, she is an assistant to the Amesha Spenta Bahman (middle Persian, Avestan: Vohu Manu), who is responsible for the welfare of animals. In the Zoroastrian calendar, the twelfth day of the month is dedicated to Mah.
In Persian mythology, Mah is literally and figuratively “the moon”, queen of the night. Mah is also the Persian language name of a species of fish, which gives rise to the Persian language expression, az mah ta mahi, “from the moon to the moon”, to mean “everything”. That expression has its origin in Persian mythology, where the world is believed to sit on a rock, on the back of a bull, on a kamkam, on the back of the mah fish, on water, on wind, and on the veil of darkness.
Mah is a popular female first name in Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan, and has numerous variants, such as Mahnur (mah: moon, nur: light).
Personally, though, I like this one best, and if I were naming a kitty after a moon goddess, I would pick this:
In Tagalog mythology, Mayari (also known as Bulan) is the beautiful lunar deity.
Mayari is such a pretty name. She would be a meowy Mayari.
Mah (Persian: ماہ ), or Mohor (middle Persian), or Maonghah (Avestan), is a divine entity of Zoroastrianism, a Yazata in the service of the supreme Creator Ahura Mazda, and an important figure in Persian mythology.
In Zoroastrianism, Mah represents mental harmony (inner peace). In angelology, she is an assistant to the Amesha Spenta Bahman (middle Persian, Avestan: Vohu Manu), who is responsible for the welfare of animals. In the Zoroastrian calendar, the twelfth day of the month is dedicated to Mah.
In Persian mythology, Mah is literally and figuratively “the moon”, queen of the night. Mah is also the Persian language name of a species of fish, which gives rise to the Persian language expression, az mah ta mahi, “from the moon to the moon”, to mean “everything”. That expression has its origin in Persian mythology, where the world is believed to sit on a rock, on the back of a bull, on a kamkam, on the back of the mah fish, on water, on wind, and on the veil of darkness.
Mah is a popular female first name in Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan, and has numerous variants, such as Mahnur (mah: moon, nur: light).
Personally, though, I like this one best, and if I were naming a kitty after a moon goddess, I would pick this:
In Tagalog mythology, Mayari (also known as Bulan) is the beautiful lunar deity.
Mayari is such a pretty name. She would be a meowy Mayari.
Oh, I must credit wiki for the above, I didn’t just happen to know those lunar deities off the top of me ‘ead.
I did think of Mah, but I figured the wingnuts would sic Homeland Security on her.
Candy, you shouldn’t have told us. I was busy being incredibly impressed and–dare I say–falling a little bit in love.
Candy, you shouldn’t have told us. I was busy being incredibly impressed and–dare I say–falling a little bit in love.
I’m just too damned honest for my own good! 
I guess I’ll never be able to infiltrate Wingnuttia.
I guess I’ll never be able to infiltrate Wingnuttia. How about Pussy? As in The owl and the pussy cat went to sea in a beautiful pea green boat. The owl looked up at the stars above and sang to his gutar. Oh beautiful Pussy of mine, What a beautiful Pussy you, you are.
I hereby nominate my cat, You pathetic little bastard, aka pat, for the Nobel Peace Prize.
I’ve always liked Tory as a nickname for Victoria.
Multicultural, adored, and imperious? Sounds like a Cleopatra to me.
Hehh.
All kidding (and kittens!)
aside,
I have to say that irony died
when Kissinger won.
All kidding (and kittens!)
aside,
I have to say that irony died
when Kissinger won.
Oshun is the African goddess of the sea, love, etc.
Cleo/Cleopatra is nice. Hypatia is nice, too.
And then there’s the mother goddess, Yemaya–or in this case, Yemeowya.
Cleo/Cleopatra is nice. Hypatia is nice, too.
And then there’s the mother goddess, Yemaya–or in this case, Yemeowya.
Celeste?
If the little kitty is biting, you have to train it to not bite before it gets big and starts making you require stitches and tetanus shots and all that emergency room stuff.
I would roll Fuzz over on his back and firmly say, “No biting”. Then put him on the floor. Then I repeated that at least 30,000 times. After awhile, it is true, I could just put my hand over his face and say firmly, “No biting”.
Now, 11 years later*, I just say “No biting” to him when I see that look in his eyes. He usually turns it quickly into a sniff or a lick.
*in his defense, he was abused for the first 6 months of his life, so fear aggression was a huge problem.
I would roll Fuzz over on his back and firmly say, “No biting”. Then put him on the floor. Then I repeated that at least 30,000 times. After awhile, it is true, I could just put my hand over his face and say firmly, “No biting”.
Now, 11 years later*, I just say “No biting” to him when I see that look in his eyes. He usually turns it quickly into a sniff or a lick.
*in his defense, he was abused for the first 6 months of his life, so fear aggression was a huge problem.
Ecatarina Velika?
When it comes to defeating the Great Rodent Insurgency of ’07, my dorg is every bit as talented as a cat at killing mice Protecting teh Homeland!!!1 When he’s out on walks with my dad, he’s constantly on the alert for teh fieldmousies IEDs. We’ll take the fight over to teh fieldmousies teh terrorists in teh field over there, so we don’t have to fight them in my pantry over here.
As far as cat names go, I’ve always been partial to the name of one of Mars’ moons: Phobos. Oh, sure, you could be something of an over-abundence of fear lately, so perhaps it’s an inappropriate name for puss-puss. But, see it from the mousie’s point of view.
As far as cat names go, I’ve always been partial to the name of one of Mars’ moons: Phobos. Oh, sure, you could be something of an over-abundence of fear lately, so perhaps it’s an inappropriate name for puss-puss. But, see it from the mousie’s point of view.
It appears that you live in the same uneasy detante that we find ourselves in. We adopted a new cat and one of our previous ones (Puck) has been unable to accept the addition of a new faction. We have had minor border skirmishes, but no outright sustained conflict. I am, of course, concerned about escalation and a broadening of the confict — the new cat (Pete) has been sneaking outside and attempting to make alliances with the neighbor’s cats. I have seen them hanging around the patio sniffing one another in order to establish diplomatic relations.
As for a name, I might recomend the name of our third cat — she is getting older, and the idea of her name living on is a pleasent one. Her name is Selima, from On a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes by Thomas Grey
As for a name, I might recomend the name of our third cat — she is getting older, and the idea of her name living on is a pleasent one. Her name is Selima, from On a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes by Thomas Grey
steve, great cite, and Selima is a name also derived from the Near East. (Horace Walpole, whose cat was drowned in the poem, got it from Aaron Hill’s play _Zara_, by way of Voltaire’s _Zaire_. Source: an abortive dissertation chapter of mine.) I’ve had Selima on my own domestic shorthair shortlist for awhile.
Well, “Diana” was my knee-jerk reaction, and the “Xena” parry was cute, but somehow, they don’t seem quite right to me.
I think that, considering her willingness to defend herself, her queenly air but affectionate nature — she’s a Molly. Okay, if she were a redhead, it’d be more fitting, but hell, Molly Ivins was graying to white over half of her life, so why not?!
And I second Jet Jaguar’s nomination to the Nobel Committee for the War Prize. I’d also like to nominate for second prize the now-semi-legendary Tommie Two-Toes of this here L’Hotel du Fucktards, from whom I not only received legendary and permanent scars, but also an odd rash on said scratch sites that is leaving even uglier scars. She might not be able to whup a full-grown cat yet, but she sure as hell whupped me!
I think that, considering her willingness to defend herself, her queenly air but affectionate nature — she’s a Molly. Okay, if she were a redhead, it’d be more fitting, but hell, Molly Ivins was graying to white over half of her life, so why not?!
And I second Jet Jaguar’s nomination to the Nobel Committee for the War Prize. I’d also like to nominate for second prize the now-semi-legendary Tommie Two-Toes of this here L’Hotel du Fucktards, from whom I not only received legendary and permanent scars, but also an odd rash on said scratch sites that is leaving even uglier scars. She might not be able to whup a full-grown cat yet, but she sure as hell whupped me!
I’ll see your scars and rash and raise you elevated white blood cell counts that showed up mysteriously in blood tests and nearly required panicky further testing before I remembered about the infected cat scratch and notified the doctor. I was not popular, but she’s long since stopped asking how I could possibly not remember these things, after the time I broke a rib and was forced to explain a week later that I have twenty or so of the damned things and don’t really do an inventory every day to make sure they’re all unbroken. At the moment, we have a probably-cat-inspired case of hives complicated by a temporary lack of insurance (No, really, I’m uninsured for two weeks and here we are. Fab timing.), so I’m prepared, if not to nominate the animal for a Nobel in chemistry, to at least end up invaded as a possible abettor of bioweapons terrorism.
It sounds like you have a Victoria, Queen and Empress there. Our meezer is willing to share her name, and will even let you in on the secret that she allows us to call her Vickie for short. When being introduced to strangers, however, she insists on the full HRH Victoria, Queen and Empress.
Your new one sounds like a lovely beastie. It’s been my experience that if there hasn’t been either bloodshed or a whirling ball of fur-spitting howls within 2 days things will work out well. I’ve had cats do the “baseboard skulk” for weeks before finally adjusting to new housemates, but when they realize that they’re cheating themselves out of lap time they come around.
Your new one sounds like a lovely beastie. It’s been my experience that if there hasn’t been either bloodshed or a whirling ball of fur-spitting howls within 2 days things will work out well. I’ve had cats do the “baseboard skulk” for weeks before finally adjusting to new housemates, but when they realize that they’re cheating themselves out of lap time they come around.
Yeah, well, D., punkin’, I’ll see your elevated white count, raise you a homicidal hamster who bites like a MOTHERFUCKER and reoccuring sarcoidosis skin “involvement” (weird shit that no dermatologist can deal with), with a sidecar of failed fundraiser and dying friend whom I never get to see anymore.
Yep, I’m a narcissistic bitch like that.
Yep, I’m a narcissistic bitch like that.
I think you should call her Marvin. He’s the god of war, right? And if Jet doesn’t win, you’ll want to start grooming another cat for the title — one who’s not a proven loser!
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