I fucking hate cats. In fact, if you were to list the things I hate most, in order, here’s where cats would rank:
1. Mayonnaise
2. Cats
3. Katie Couric
4. Hitler
I know what you’re thinking, and you’re probably right. Katie Couric is a little low on that list. Vapid fucking slut. But no, cats are worse. What is the point of owning a cat? It says a lot about you if you enjoy the company of a pet that does nothing but sit around all day and stare at you with complete and utter contempt. It’s like having a shallow Asian girlfriend. I don’t get the appeal.
Cats also rank on high Mrs. Marlboroman's shit list, which looks something like this:
1. Jennifer Love Hewitt
2. Gwyneth Paltrow
3. Ann Curry (The Today Show is about as welcome in our house as a hot fart)
4. Fucking cats
But recent events may push cats to the top of our respective lists. Two weeks ago, Mrs. Marlboroman discovered a litter of baby rabbits in our frontyard. I took a picture of them. Here it is:
Awwwwww. Aren’t they cute? I even named them. From left to right, that’s Pussykiller, Lightning Balls, Russell J. Trombone, and TT Boy. Mrs. Marlboroman watched the mama rabbit give birth to them, stunned that no epidural was administered. But she also noticed that the baby rabbits should not have been born so out in the open, where they could be easily spotted by predators and/or Richard Gere. We both agreed, as new parents ourselves, that we should do our best to shelter the litter, so that they could enjoy a long life of eating carrots, outwitting hunters, battling space aliens, and fighting bulls. So Mrs. Marlboroman surrounded them with a complex wall of twigs, sticks, and twiggy sticks.
But then, what should appear in our yard but one of the outdoor cats that roam our neighborhood. Apparently, cats are divided into two groups: indoor cats and outdoor cats. The idea of an outdoor cat is idiotic to me. It’s basically a stray cat someone assigned themselves to. I own a group of outdoor seagulls myself. Retarded.
Anyway, Mrs. Marlboroman knew this cat wanted to go all Sylvester on the litter, so she stayed outside to shoo it away. But then, two things happened. First, the Girl started crying, which Mrs. Marlboroman had to take care of. Second, I realized I had to check on some chicken I had cooking on the grill. I had that shit marinating overnight. Fuck if I was burning it. The cat was nowhere to be seen. So we went off to do our respective duties. While we were away, the inevitable happened. We came back to find a bloodbath. Only two baby rabbits remained. One was gone, the other badly wounded. Fucking cat.
What is the call here? Do you call the Humane Society? Do you take in the surviving rabbits and raise them as humans? Or do you let cruel nature take its course? I went to go look up animal services on the internet. But the time I got back, it was too late. They were all gone.
I’m well aware that these are rabbits we’re talking about. I’m sure the mama rabbit slutted it up three minutes later and pumped out a new batch without even thinking about it. But still, she lost four kids at once. We couldn’t even save one of them ala Private Ryan. And it was all because of an animal no one with a chemically balanced psyche likes. As a result, Mrs. Marlboroman and I have combined our respective shit lists into one:
1. Outdoor cats
2. Indoor cats
3. Thundercats
4. Aristocats
5. Any other stupid fucking cats
I hate cats.
1. Mayonnaise
2. Cats
3. Katie Couric
4. Hitler
I know what you’re thinking, and you’re probably right. Katie Couric is a little low on that list. Vapid fucking slut. But no, cats are worse. What is the point of owning a cat? It says a lot about you if you enjoy the company of a pet that does nothing but sit around all day and stare at you with complete and utter contempt. It’s like having a shallow Asian girlfriend. I don’t get the appeal.
Cats also rank on high Mrs. Marlboroman's shit list, which looks something like this:
1. Jennifer Love Hewitt
2. Gwyneth Paltrow
3. Ann Curry (The Today Show is about as welcome in our house as a hot fart)
4. Fucking cats
But recent events may push cats to the top of our respective lists. Two weeks ago, Mrs. Marlboroman discovered a litter of baby rabbits in our frontyard. I took a picture of them. Here it is:
Awwwwww. Aren’t they cute? I even named them. From left to right, that’s Pussykiller, Lightning Balls, Russell J. Trombone, and TT Boy. Mrs. Marlboroman watched the mama rabbit give birth to them, stunned that no epidural was administered. But she also noticed that the baby rabbits should not have been born so out in the open, where they could be easily spotted by predators and/or Richard Gere. We both agreed, as new parents ourselves, that we should do our best to shelter the litter, so that they could enjoy a long life of eating carrots, outwitting hunters, battling space aliens, and fighting bulls. So Mrs. Marlboroman surrounded them with a complex wall of twigs, sticks, and twiggy sticks.
But then, what should appear in our yard but one of the outdoor cats that roam our neighborhood. Apparently, cats are divided into two groups: indoor cats and outdoor cats. The idea of an outdoor cat is idiotic to me. It’s basically a stray cat someone assigned themselves to. I own a group of outdoor seagulls myself. Retarded.
Anyway, Mrs. Marlboroman knew this cat wanted to go all Sylvester on the litter, so she stayed outside to shoo it away. But then, two things happened. First, the Girl started crying, which Mrs. Marlboroman had to take care of. Second, I realized I had to check on some chicken I had cooking on the grill. I had that shit marinating overnight. Fuck if I was burning it. The cat was nowhere to be seen. So we went off to do our respective duties. While we were away, the inevitable happened. We came back to find a bloodbath. Only two baby rabbits remained. One was gone, the other badly wounded. Fucking cat.
What is the call here? Do you call the Humane Society? Do you take in the surviving rabbits and raise them as humans? Or do you let cruel nature take its course? I went to go look up animal services on the internet. But the time I got back, it was too late. They were all gone.
I’m well aware that these are rabbits we’re talking about. I’m sure the mama rabbit slutted it up three minutes later and pumped out a new batch without even thinking about it. But still, she lost four kids at once. We couldn’t even save one of them ala Private Ryan. And it was all because of an animal no one with a chemically balanced psyche likes. As a result, Mrs. Marlboroman and I have combined our respective shit lists into one:
1. Outdoor cats
2. Indoor cats
3. Thundercats
4. Aristocats
5. Any other stupid fucking cats
I hate cats.
