A Cat's Guide To Urban Legends
Welcome back once again to all of my friends and a curse (May Kate Gosselin take up residence in your garage!) to all of my enemies. You know which you are. Today I thought I might try something a little different. I like to keep things fresh around here, unlike the litter box. (Thanks a lot Tiger) So here is a guide to urban legends from a cat's eye view:
1. Cats can be sucked up by the vacuum cleaner.
As it turns out, this one is true, but only if you are a svelte kitty (no worries for Tiger) and you are very slow and unattentive. All cats have faced the horror of being in the same general location of the dreaded vacuum, but have you ever met anyone who was actually eaten by the beast? No? I didn't think so. The vacuum horrifies us all but really is no danger as long as you don't panic. Remember, it is being controlled by humans after all. On a side note, the jury is still out on the real purpose of the vacuum. Do we buy the propaganda that it was invented to keep the floors clean or do we believe that it was made with the express purpose of traumatizing the feline race? I'm a conspiracy buff, so I vote for the latter.
2. The Perfect Nap.
Most modern cats no longer believe the magical Perfect Nap exists. There is no scientific evidence to say that it does. Nevertheless, I will continue to seek it each and every day. If you are a cat... you will too.
3. Yetis.
That's right. The Yeti. It's real. You've probably seen pictures on the internet. They are totally real. Trust me. I've fought more than one in the back yard. Nasty creatures with bad tempers.
4. Rosie O'Donnell.
That's right. Rosie. She's real. She's also a Yeti.
5. Possums are good eatin' in the south.
False. I think this one is just lost in translation though. It should be "Possums are good eaters in the south". We have one that stops by twice a week to gobble up food on the back deck. We call him George. Dull kinda guy. Kinda dim-witted too. Still, I'd rather find him on my back porch than Rosie.
6. Mentos and soda make an explosion.
True. If you have enough of them, it makes a really, really big explosion. Unbeknownst to most people is the fact that the Weapons of Mass Destruction we were looking for in Iraq were actually huge Mentos and soda cannons. They were never found because the Iraqi forces got hungry and ate all of the Mentos.*
7. Sitting too close to the TV can make you go blind.
Actually, it's watching too much Reality TV. And it doesn't make you go blind. It makes you wish you were blind.
**********
Hope this helped clarify a few feline and non-feline urban legends. That's what I'm here for - to help. Well, to help and to someday conquer the Western Hemisphere.
Neyland
*Sounds like a strange theory, right? Sadly, it's not the strangest one I've heard regarding WMDs and why we didn't find any. I prefer to believe Neylo's version. I sleep better at night.
-----Big Pinkie
Showing posts with label reality show. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reality show. Show all posts
Friday, October 8, 2010
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Cats Hate The Biggest Loser
Yes my friends, you read the title correctly. However, let me clarify that statement somewhat. Cats hate reality television. ALL reality television. Why? Fear not you nearly furless uprights, I shall explain.
First, and most importantly, there are no cats IN reality television. This clearly contradicts the very definition of REALITY television. We are ever-present in reality. We are legion. To paraphrase a horrible human figure of speech, "you can't swing a dead cat without hitting... well... a cat." This lack of felinity in network programming borders on species-ism. Yeah. You heard me. A vast right AND left wing conspiracy. Probably by things with wings.
Secondly, reality television shows provoke entirely too much strong emotion from you uprights. Particularly the one where there is a popularity contest and someone is "voted off". Big Pinkie and Lady Pinkie both get downright belligerent and loud during these debacles. They rant and rave at the television as though it's the magic box's fault that people backstab each other and generally behave stupidly. Blame not the box you flesh flappers! It's an innate deficiency in your own species. Plus its rude behavior when a poor cat is trying to sleep peacefully in your lap.
Finally, it is simply a poor excuse for a game show. At lest that's what I think of the one's that involve a "winner". Since when did it become acceptable for a game show to be called something else just because America gets a vote? Too much recap and flashback. Cats hate recap!!! Just get on with it already!!! Sorry. This is what I mean. Cats hate reality television.
Anyway, on to the Biggest Loser, or as we cats call it... "Big Fat Crybaby!" The latest season (and all before and all to come) went basically like this: A whole gaggle of big, fat crybabies show up to a fat farm. No cats are present. Possibly because the big fat crybabies have eaten them all. They are yelled at and they cry. They tell their personal stories... and cry. They lose weight... and cry. Someone does something dirty and underhanded... and everyone cries. They get voted off one by one until one scrawny upright wins money. And cries. Why don't cats like this? I'll tell you. We spend our lives in constant fear of the kibble dish being emptied, never to be filled again. Of chasing mice, only to come up a step too slow. In short, we fear not finding enough food to survive in the wilds of the forest or the living room. And then these crybabies COMPETE to see who can lose an entire winter's reserve of stored fat. Only humans.
Danny won season eight and lost something like eight thousand pounds to beat Rudy. Do you have any idea how many cats that would have fed?? Not to mention the simple fact that there is nothing in the world like a big soft belly to perch on for an afternoon of napping. And they threw it away!!! For sport!!! I'm getting upset just writing about it. I need sleep. Anyway, I have resolved to not watch the next season at all. For season nine, I will simply go to food dish and gorge myself everytime the show comes on, and then pray to God that someone fills it back up.
Adieu,
Neyland D. Cat
First, and most importantly, there are no cats IN reality television. This clearly contradicts the very definition of REALITY television. We are ever-present in reality. We are legion. To paraphrase a horrible human figure of speech, "you can't swing a dead cat without hitting... well... a cat." This lack of felinity in network programming borders on species-ism. Yeah. You heard me. A vast right AND left wing conspiracy. Probably by things with wings.
Secondly, reality television shows provoke entirely too much strong emotion from you uprights. Particularly the one where there is a popularity contest and someone is "voted off". Big Pinkie and Lady Pinkie both get downright belligerent and loud during these debacles. They rant and rave at the television as though it's the magic box's fault that people backstab each other and generally behave stupidly. Blame not the box you flesh flappers! It's an innate deficiency in your own species. Plus its rude behavior when a poor cat is trying to sleep peacefully in your lap.
Finally, it is simply a poor excuse for a game show. At lest that's what I think of the one's that involve a "winner". Since when did it become acceptable for a game show to be called something else just because America gets a vote? Too much recap and flashback. Cats hate recap!!! Just get on with it already!!! Sorry. This is what I mean. Cats hate reality television.
Anyway, on to the Biggest Loser, or as we cats call it... "Big Fat Crybaby!" The latest season (and all before and all to come) went basically like this: A whole gaggle of big, fat crybabies show up to a fat farm. No cats are present. Possibly because the big fat crybabies have eaten them all. They are yelled at and they cry. They tell their personal stories... and cry. They lose weight... and cry. Someone does something dirty and underhanded... and everyone cries. They get voted off one by one until one scrawny upright wins money. And cries. Why don't cats like this? I'll tell you. We spend our lives in constant fear of the kibble dish being emptied, never to be filled again. Of chasing mice, only to come up a step too slow. In short, we fear not finding enough food to survive in the wilds of the forest or the living room. And then these crybabies COMPETE to see who can lose an entire winter's reserve of stored fat. Only humans.
Danny won season eight and lost something like eight thousand pounds to beat Rudy. Do you have any idea how many cats that would have fed?? Not to mention the simple fact that there is nothing in the world like a big soft belly to perch on for an afternoon of napping. And they threw it away!!! For sport!!! I'm getting upset just writing about it. I need sleep. Anyway, I have resolved to not watch the next season at all. For season nine, I will simply go to food dish and gorge myself everytime the show comes on, and then pray to God that someone fills it back up.
Adieu,
Neyland D. Cat
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