First, the setup: it's a discussion of the relative cruelty involved in burning mice alive vs. turning them over to the tender mercies of a housecat:
I'll have to state that my cat appears to be an alum of the No Quick Kill School.
He's declawed but that didn't stop him with his first, and only, to my knowledge, kill: I found the rodent that he had dispatched had been "waterboarded" in his drinking water a little past what the guidelines had called for. I'm sure it entertained him for quite some time.
He also purrs loudly when the Sec. of Defense, the Attorney General, or the Vice President appears on the TV.
Cats: Nature's fascists.
(Mister Gato even *looks* a little like Il Duce in the picture in this post. Take another look at that facial expression.)
And now, the payoff. John sends an e-mail which consists of this picture and caption only:
I want my Friskies, dammit!
I actually did an old-school Jerry Lewis spit-take when I read e-mail this morning.
Come on. Don't tell me you can't see the resemblance:
Separated at birth?
Come on. Don't tell me you can't see the resemblance:
Separated at birth?
No comments:
Post a Comment