Politics is like trying to screw a cat in the ass.
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'In the bad old days reference to Blacks/women/Jews/others were in negative language which perpetuated poor treatment/ abuse/ exploitation of these people. Animals have suffered more from negative language stereotyping than all the others, and demeans them so constantly that they created an environment that allows all sorts of cruelties, many too horrendous to describe! An animal is 'it' instead of 'he' or 'she', this perpetuates our view of them as 'things' rather than individuals and is a major first step towards cutting them up for meat and leather, testing drugs/cosmetics/ household products on their bodies, and tearing off their coats for furs!!! Those who have pets are referred to as 'owners' rather than guardians/care givers/companions, reinforcing the idea that they are property much as slaves were considered property. Let's avoid these references: Dirty rat; filthy pig; acting like an ass; dirty dog; she's a bitch; ugly duckling; there's more than one way to skin a cat; behaving like an animal; making a monkey out of someone; killing 2 birds with one stone; working like a horse, you're chicken ... There are many more! Please think before uttering them and tell others. Thank you!'
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The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.
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What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
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Cruel, but composed and bland, Dumb, inscrutable and grand, So Tiberius might have sat, Had Tiberius been a cat.
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What I want to fix your attention on is the vast overall movement towards the discrediting, and finally the elimination, of every kind of human excellence -- moral, cultural, social or intellectual. And is it not pretty to notice how 'democracy' (in the incantatory sense) is now doing for us the work that was once done by the most ancient dictatorships, and by the same methods The basic proposal of the new education is to be that dunces and idlers must not be made to feel inferior to intelligent and industrious pupils. That would be 'undemocratic.' Children who are fit to proceed may be artificially kept back, because the others would get a trauma by being left behind. The bright pupil thus remains democratically fettered to his own age group throughout his school career, and a boy who would be capable of tackling Aeschylus or Dante sits listening to his coeval's attempts to spell out A CAT SAT ON A MAT. We may reasonably hope for the virtual abolition of education when 'I'm as good as you' has fully had its way. All incentives to learn and all penalties for not learning will vanish. The few who might want to learn will be prevented who are they to overtop their fellows And anyway, the teachers -- or should I say nurses -- will be far too busy reassuring the dunces and patting them on the back to waste any time on real teaching. We shall no longer have to plan and toil to spread imperturbable conceit and incurable ignorance among men.
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Young cat, if you keep your eyes open enough, oh, the stuff you would learn! The most wonderful stuff!
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like the cat I have nine times to die. This is Number Three. What a trash To annihilate each decade.
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A boy is a magical creature you can lock him out of your workshop, but you can't lock him out of your heart. You can get him out of your study, but you can't get him out of your mind. Might as well give up he is your captor, your jailer, your boss and your master a freckled-faced, pint-sized, cat-chasing bundle of noise. But when you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and dreams, he can mend them like new with two magic words Hi, Dad
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I despise and abhor the pleas on behalf of that infamous practice, vivisection... I would rather submit to the worst of deaths, so far as pain goes, than have a single dog or cat tortured to death on the pretense of sparing me a twinge or two.
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In Germany, Gunther Burpus remained wedged in his front-door cat flap for two days because passers-by thought he was a piece of installation art. Mr Burpus, 41, of Bremen, was using the flap because he had mislaid his keys. Unfortunately he was spotted by a group of student pranksters who removed his trousers and pants, painted his bottom bright blue, stuck a daffodil between his buttocks and erected a sign saying 'Germany Resurgent, an Essay in Street Art. Please give Generously'. Passers-by assumed Mr Burpus' screams were part of the act and it was only when an old woman complained to the police that he was finally freed. 'I kept calling for help,' he said, 'but people just said 'Very good! Very clever!' and threw coins at me.'
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One time my cousin Walter got this cat stuck in his ass. True story. He bought it at our local mall, so the whole fiasco wound up on the news. It was embarrassing for my relatives and all, but the next week, he did it again. Different cat, same results, complete with another trip to the emergency room. So, I run into him a week later in the mall and he's buying another cat. And I says to him, 'Jesus, Walt! You know you're just gonna get this cat stuck in your ass too. Why don't you knock it off ?' And he said to me, 'Brodie, how the hell else am I supposed to get the gerbil out ?' My cousin was a weird guy.
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When the tea is brought at five o'clock And all the neat curtains are drawn with care, The little black cat with bright green eyes Is suddenly purring there.
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Charlie Woman... woe-man... whoooa-man. She was a thief, you got to believe, she stole my heart and my cat. Judy, Betty, Josie and those hot Pussycats... they made me horny, on Saturday morning... girls of cartoo-ins will leave me in ruins... I want to to be Betty's Barney. Jane... get me off this crazy thing... called love.
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You see, wire telegraph is a kind of a very, very long cat. You pull his tail in New York and his head is meowing in Los Angeles. Do you understand this? And radio operates exactly the same way: you send signals here, they receive them there. The only difference is that there is no cat.
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I have a cat named Trash. In the current political climate it would seem that if I were trying to sell him (at least to a Computer Scientist), I would not stress that he is gentle to humans and is self-sufficient, living mostly on field mice. Rather, I would argue that he is object-oriented.
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Any great truth can -- and eventually will -- be expressed as a cliche -- a cliche is a sure and certain way to dilute an idea. For instance, my grandmother used to say, 'The black cat is always the last one off the fence.' I have no idea what she meant, but at one time, it was undoubtedly true.
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I care not much for a man's religion whose dog and cat are not the better for it.
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One time my cousin Walter got this cat stuck in his ass. True story. He bought it at the local mall, so the whole fiasco wound up on the news. It was embarrassing for my relatives and all. But the next week, he did it again. Different cat, same results, complete with a trip to the emergency room. Then, last week, I saw him in the pet store. He was buying another cat! I said, 'Walt, what the hell are you doing? You know you're just gonna get this cat stuck up your ass too, why don't you knock it off?' And he says to me, 'Brodie, how the hell else am I supposed to get the gerbil out?' My cousin was a weird guy.
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The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
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Curiosity killed the cat, but for a while I was a suspect.
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When mom found my diaphram, I told her it was a bathing cap for my cat.
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Curiosity killed the cat, but for awhile I was a suspect.
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'If I want to hear the patter of little feet, I'll put shoes on my cat.'
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CHRIS The bane and blessing of human nature. That old cat killer, curiosity. Something so deeply embedded in our psyches that it screams to us from ancient myths of Pandora. Eve. Lot's wife. JOEL Eve lost paradise, Lot's wife was turned into a pillar of salt. Knowledge doesn't come cheap my friend. CHRIS Good or bad, curiosity is woven into our DNA like tonsils or like the opposable thumb. It's the fire under the ass of the human experience
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Curiousity killed the cat, but for a while I was a suspect
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I never married because there was no need. I have three pets at home which answer the same purpose as a husband. I have a dog which growls every morning, a parrot which swears all afternoon and a cat that comes home late at night.
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The closest thing to Roseanne Barr's singing the national anthem was my cat being neutered.
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His mother called such people ignorant and superstitious, but his father only shook his head slowly and puffed his pipe and said that sometimes old stories had a grain or two of truth in them and it was best not to take chances. It was why, he said, he crossed himself whenever a black cat crossed his path.
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When a cat is dropped, it always lands on its feet. When toast is dropped, it always lands butter-side-down. I propose to strap buttered toast to the back of a cat, butter facing up. The two will hover, spinning, inches above the ground. With a giant buttered-toast/cat array, a high-speed monorail could easily link New York with Chicago.
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