12 March 2008

The cat came back

The email said: "...Dead Cat ticket? What are you talking about?"

Actually, I did mention it before, but to save you having to read through the entire post about the house the spouse called the Half-Million Dollar Tarpaper Shack, here's the relevant bit:

I believe in upholding community standards, but I also like personal privacy. To that end, I am a political creature, for sure, but because I don't want to be pigeonholed, I don't belong to a political party, which sent the older folks in Affluent Suburb, Southern California, bonkers. She's not a Democrat! She's not a Republican! She's not Independent! They marveled over my designation in the voter roster: declines to state. "Communist," whispered one old geezer.

(Most assuredly not. Nor am I Green or Libertarian. I vote every election without the benefit of anyone's advice. When I am angry, I write in the cat. When I am very angry, I write in the dead cat).


My beloved calico, Doodle, was a write-in candidate for a number of elections. And when she passed on, I didn't see any reason that she should stop running for president, or governor, or mayor, or city council furperson. Milton presents a rather more difficult sell as a candidate given his illicit love affair with the dog. Sounds like a true politician, doesn't he?

Okay, I really need to go mow the lawn.

Go listen to some music: "The Cat Came Back" from the album Whaddya Think of That? by Laurie Berkner. Apparently, the Muppets did a version, too.

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