For those of you keeping track of these things (that would be, oh, nobody, not even me), here are the latest additions to Animal House:
1. Three former feral kittens that were found abandoned in a window well. I got them when they were about 4 weeks old, and they are about 7 weeks old now. They are cute, fat, friendly little things, but they still sit on the food bowls and growl at each other while they eat, even though the dry food is available 24/7. They would kill a man in Reno, just to eat his canned food. One (a boy) is a gray spotted tabby, and the two others (a boy and a girl) are kind of buff tabbies with dark ears and faces — they look sort of like little bobcats. They need wild, ferocious names, as befitting their natures. Think of some.
2. Two black 4-month-old kittens that were left on my doorstep in a sealed Avon box with the word “sorry” scrawled on it. I guess their names will be “Avon” and “Anew Wrinkle Cream.”
3. A little, fluffy gray girl kitten who is about 5 weeks old. She has an upper respiratory infection, so she snuffles and snorts all the time. (It’s a virus, so of course the antibiotics I’m giving her don’t help, but I guess they do prevent her from getting anything else). I got her about 8 days ago from the home of the hoarder who lived across the street from my parents; I thought she’d have a short, miserable life over there, so I stole her. Her name for now is Wheazy.
4. Okay, you might have noticed the past tense when referring to the hoarder. She died last weekend. (My taking the kitten had nothing to do with it.) Her brother came to town for one day to make arrangements to have her cremated, and to close up her house. He wanted all her pets out of the house that day. So, I took 4 goldfish, 2 parakeets, and a cockatoo to foster until something else could be found for them. So far, nothing has. The cockatoo shrieks for attention when she thinks she is being ignored. The cats really, REALLY want to eat the parakeets. The aquarium holding the goldfish cracked during the first night I had them, resulting in a really, really soggy carpet (I spent all day cleaning it, but it still smells mildewy). However, I woke up in time to save the fish, who are now swimming happily in an old tank I had in my garage. The cockatoo is like a spoiled two-year-old (or Bill O’Reilly). The parakeets seem to have a death wish. How will this all end? Tune in next time for another chapter of “The Young and the Unhousebroken.” 5. A blind Siamese kitten I got from a woman whose landlord said the cat had to be out that day, which was the day she got him declawed. He was really scared, making him act really agressive, when I first got him, but he is sweet and loving now.
6. An old, half-blind Lhasa Apso we got from the pound. She has finally figured out how to use the doggie door, but only to go outside, so she spends most of her time barking to be let back in, and then going back outside
7. A big, friendly flame point Siamese mix cat that we got from the pound. His tail needed to be amputated because he apparently got it got in a car’s fan belt, but he is healing nicely.
8. A pretty gray kitten that somebody dumped on me at Petsmart today. She said it followed her kids home while they were tricking or treating last night, and they are deathly allergic to cats, and hate them, and would just take it to the pound where it would be euthanized f I didn’t take it, etc. I’m betting it belongs to somebody, so hopefully I can find its owner. It pooped and got feces all over it while in the carrier on the way home, so right now its name is Stinky.
9. And the rest.
Anyway, speaking of dumb animals, please now enjoy this excerpt from Sandy Rios’s latest column:
Back home people cue up for Starbucks, grasping not only the coffee cups but the status they represent.
Sandy, honey, it’s “queue up.” And is there really anybody who actually think they get status from drinking Starbucks coffee?
I join long drive-thru lines at McDonald’s with fellow citizens, eager to enjoy the fattening faire.
Sandy, the word is “fare.” F-A-R-E. (Unless you’re French or something,) Please sign up for remedial English before you pen your next column.
I stand in line for movies, popcorn and, yes, even at the Apple Computer Store eagerly examining the latest gadgets. And I ask myself … is this what it means to be an American?
Yes, Sandy, standing in line is what it means to be an American. Now, with that question answered, are you done for today?
No, I guess not. So, we’ll skip to the part about how we must defeat Obama to preserve and protect our sacred line-standing way of life.
To be an American is to work hard, to toil by the sweat of your brow,
Um, unless you make your living moving furniture using your eyebrows, this doesn’t seem to make much sense.
… the more sweat, the more gain;
This message was brought to you by Degree antiperspirant, the one that doesn’t work, the better to help YOU get more gain!
… to be free of harsh overlords; to be responsible for your own life and family; to fail or succeed without unfair impediments or emasculating help.
Personally, I welcome our harsh overlords and their emasculating help.
But here is Sandy’s central anti-Obama message:
We resist any leader who would view Europeans who disdain Americans as better friends than his own people, who would seek to silence dissent through so-called “truth-squads” and attempt to control thought through lies and deception.We will resist such a leader because some of us still understand the uniqueness of what it means to be an American. It is a moniker like no other and we will not stand by without a fight and watch it be defamed and destroyed.
So, because Obama would destroy our cherished monikers, we must fight him with all our might. (Or “mite” as the case may be.) And since Obama has European friends, possibly, and you know what THEY are like, we must all vote for McCain, the guy who promises to die in office to further the wingnut cause.
Posted by s.z. on November 1st, 2008
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