I love the news. I know that it freaks Dad out (bonus #1) but I think it's that he takes everything too seriously. Additionally, he is part of the whole "human" thing so I'm sure there is a level of empathy he feels that must just cut to, and through, the very bone - given most content deemed to be newsy. Me? I don't understand why you need scripted entertainment. Nay, any other entertainment really. Do you really think that you can create something more engaging artificially than the crap your species pulls on a daily basis?

Let's see what you guys are up to today:

Virginia Introduces $3550 Speeding Ticket

I know I'm still learning the ropes of your language so I just want to be clear:

"Led by state Delegate David B. Albo (R-Springfield), lawmakers slipped a driver responsibility tax into a larger transportation funding bill signed by Governor Tim Kaine (D) in April. Albo, a senior partner in the Albo & Oblon, LLP traffic law firm, can expect to see a significant increase in business as motorists seek to protect their wallet from traffic tickets.."

Does that mean what I think it means? Maybe I'm missing something. What does the term "conflict of interest" mean? I thought that was a pretty big deal. Especially for public officials. That have side businesses. With their names in the name of the actual business. Leading name too.

I know that a lot of work may have to be done to uncover all the motivating factors and identify the beneficiaries but… oh, wait.

 --

North Carolina High School Track Coach, 40, Marries 16-Year-Old Girl Athlete

Now I'm really confused. "Hager's parents say they did all they could to keep the couple apart …" and then they signed a consent form allowing it.

What, at gunpoint? With Phil Collins singing You'll Be In My Heart in the background?

 --

Man Wakes Up With Headache, Finds Bullet In His Head

Wow. This is like the greatest "you're so slow" joke ever.

You're so slow I could shoot you in the head and it would take you a couple days to get it.

"Moylan told police the affliction was so painful, he thought that his wife had either elbowed him in the head or he was having an aneurism."

Right. Because an elbow and an aneurysm feel very similar when applied to the general head area. Wait, did someone just elbow me in the head?

Oh, no. I'm sorry, my mistake. Just had a small aneurysm trying to understand what happened in that story.

--

Hm, I think I just realized what the civil war was about. Because that never made sense to me. My stance, vis-à-vis the south, would have been, "Fine, go. Fuck you then." I never got the motivation behind, essentially, forcing someone into a relationship they don't want. Wouldn't you want them to be a part of the country of their own volition?

Now it all makes sense. The residual humor value was totally worth the bloodiest war in American history. Long live the South.

…now, what's this about a wrestler….

-mos cat

Um, I'm back. There are a lot of things that happened back there. I don't think I'll be ready to discuss any of it for quite some time. Between Ironic Elephant, Get'Well and at one point using my Dad's head as a broadcast antenna lets just say, "… that ends well"

And, "…tis a far far better better thing I do, then I have ever done before. 'tis a far far more comfortable lap than any I have curled up on."

The lap of destiny. Of course.

One day the truth will surface like a corpse in the Delaware that you think you weighted down well enough; but realize as you see the deformed cadaver emerge from the abyss… eventually everything comes out. Up.

Good Maahes, I leave for a week and this blog goes to litter. Who cares what people name their kids? That girl that commented is right; that these people are procreating is the real problem here. As far as I am concerned we are long past due for "child-birth" by license only. The license should involve a series of tests that ensure your genes are worth passing on (one test should definitely be "cat likeability", we are astute judges of character). I don't know if you've guys looked at your annual population delta numbers, but, um… I'd start going for quality. Just saying. The names, literacy and child rearing without the proxy of television will take care of itself. Gut feeling.

Speaking of Gut…

My uncle Swift is a tactless pig. His loss of all but the feeblest of grasps on reality is pissing me off. The difficulty is as follows: he is my uncle, he is fat but still stronger than I am*, and he is completely unreasonable. The dude saunters into my room: fine. Eats my Deli-Cat: that's fine too, Dad likes it when I share. He then just lounges under TV: ok, great, I still don't really have a problem with this.

When I walk into the room though, from the other side(!), he starts growling like a mother bear protecting her cubs – but higher pitched. He is ill-tempered when he's like that and it's ridiculous. Homey, you're in my room, you're eating my food, and your rotund ass is going to be hissing at me for what? Allowing it? Get some DW40 on that shit and shut your maw. I'm going to have Tony start throwing him out; he can hiss like it's going out of style from the remoteness of the hallway. This is my "I care" face.

Speaking of being outcast to the hallway…

Kerrigan is no better – just thinner and demented in more of an abstract capacity. Which I guess places her in line with most human females. I still don't understand it though. This retard looks for attention by taking every opportunity she can to escape the house. Once escaped, and with people trying to bring her back to safety, she does nothing but trot away every time they get close. She just tries to frustrate them. It's not like she is going anywhere; she comes back to the door quickly. The problem is, you can't trust her to do this. She is as directionless as she is uncoordinated – I've seen drunk humans with better average reaction time and ability to effectively interact with their environment. So Tony explained to me that the reason they chase her is that if left out there something bad could, and probably will, happen to her.

So, let me summarize. She runs away to get attention, which nobody wants to give her – specifically not in this situation, and when she gets it she further encourages it by frustrating those who are trying to ensure she doesn't die. She does this until they are so fed up with her that they don't care about her well-being anymore and retreat to the house. At which point she comes back to the door in a double slap in the face of all those who pursued her. Seeing the reaction on behalf of all those involved, I'll let you fill-in the particulars, she attempts to do this again the first chance she gets.

The mind. It reels.

Speaking of outside…

I need to figure this out. I want out sometimes, especially in our backyard. I just want some fresh air. This is where I don't understand my Dad. He says that he would never take away my claws because if anything should happen and I get outside, or he's not around, he wants me to have the ability to take down a potential threat. But then, with this ability to protect myself against practically any attack (ok, realistically – no, I can't stop a nuke with these) I am not allowed out! Why?? Why dammit?? I see you out there in the sun, on the lounger, with a laptop, surrounded by drinks, I want that! I want the sun Dad! MEOOOOOWWW!!!!

Whoa, sorry. Sensitive topic for me, for a second there completely transferred myself into the moment. Method writing, I think it's called. Anyway, I need to find a way to trick him – or not even. I know he just want to know that I'll be safe out there (especially with the friendly psychopath dog Max next door). I need a way to satisfy both of our requirements. I need to be out. He needs me to be safe. I don't do leashes. Surely modern science has an answer.

-mos cat

*The issue of how I match up with Swift in a physical altercation. Push comes to shove, right now, if only one of us was to walk away: you can bet everything you own that it would be me. (Or you can lose everything and take Tubby McCat) I'm younger, faster, more agile. My claws are sharper and my ears are pointier. In a conflict that can only end in one way I am confident eventually I would prevail especially when the X factor is taken into consideration. In this case it's my will to survive, and his will to be a fat bastard.

Pull up a chair. Please – it's weirding me out to see you read my blog entries standing up.

So, here. 

It's strange; big news rarely troubles me much these days. (The recent Bush statements re: stem cell research; the big offensive in Iraq; etc.) I know its all crap and what's being reported is a slanted version of this crap. There is only so much shit I'm willing to wade through to get to a core truth when I know that most likely this truth will disturb the very foundation of my soul.

Minutia such as the link above however is relatively transparent factually and absurd enough to draw an immediate curiosity which allows for a much more interesting extrapolation to larger dynamics at play. Everything is reflective of the overall course our species is charting across history. Might as well make your analysis then based on something, well, not boring. It's stupid stories like this that burn my brain for days as I try to get a handle on the nature of these cultural shifts that signal the end of days. There is little doubt in my mind that this one such story. Basically, we're fucked.

On one hand this is just stupid. On the other, it's an interesting problem – as can be evidenced by the fact that there is still not, apparently, an official decision made. Somewhere the lawmakers are sitting there going,

"They want to name it what? Are they for rea… too easy. … What is wrong with them? Are we obligated to stop people like this?"

(Easy answer, yes. Larger educational budgets is the way to go in my opinion.)

This is one of those situations where I agree with what these people are doing in theory but loathe them, as individuals, in practice as their name of choice reflects a particular cultural movement that makes me physically ill, a little bit. Specifically in this case it's the dismissive nature of everything that came before you and the notion that if it is not easily understood then it is not worth understanding. Moreover, it's the replacement of said concepts with ones you proclaim to be superior on some theoretical level where really it's just that your dumb ass can actually comprehend them.

How do you actually legislate this though? We're about to hit a point where the people that are having children were themselves raised on message boards and instant messengers with fabricated identities and bumper sticker opinions reflective of their situational whims. I don't want to blanket statement the entire thing as "trivial" but, it is what it is. It's only natural that names aren't what they once were, you are going to see more and more people approach them as internet handles. How far away are we from the first 1337 Johnson? Or h4x0r Smith? xXxJanexXx d0e? Do you apply a password security policy-like approach to the situation? - Must be alpha characters only, minimum and maximum length and complexity, etc. – I honestly don't know.

The bigger concern I have here is that to me this is indicative of a general dumbing down of literature. 4Real.

I rest my case.

This is a fucking problem. It's a problem because really, to date, we have had one big breakthrough in human history. The ability, via written communication, to transfer knowledge. That's it. The way our DNA is a gift from our predecessors so is literature. Over the centuries written communication has evolved as well. In terms of methods of delivery (printing press, internets) and natural language evolution, facilitating a more robust range of expression, we have come a long way. What's happening now, in a vague, unsettling way, feels a little like 1984. The trivialization of traditional writing standards is really disturbing in this light. I would imagine that this is the first time our means of expressing ourselves may actually be shrinking. How long until you look up the world "happy" in a thesaurus and the only entry is ?

Maybe it's just me; but there are few things that legitimately frighten me more.

--

So, Mos is exploring alternative applications of his talents. Specifically I think he is trying on the hat labeled "house cat".

I can certainly empathize with him in terms of trying to find your place in this world and striking the right balance between personal interests and personal interest in the interests of society. I believe it's a question we all struggle with because it boils down to self-awareness and being able to reconcile conflicting aspirations. I know he really enjoyed this blog thing but as much as he gravitates towards being his own cat there is always the need for external validation. It sounds trivial but given any sort of self-analysis the inevitable realization is that there is a very real possibility that you are completely mental. This doesn't actually mean you are insane. It's just a variant you have to consider; it is… possible. This is where external validation gives you perspective and a point of reference against which to gauge your dispositions. Everything is, after all, relative.

Largely those close to you are the ones that provide this perspective. Family and friends. You spend years around them refining your understanding of them thus allowing you to more accurately understand yourself. Sometimes though you need to step outside of even that, and this is where you have no choice but to consider your societal environment at large. As with your friends, gaining understanding of this reference point causes you develop an appreciation for it. To know someone, something, is to love them. Furthermore, as with your friends, this affection by way of functional empathy results in a want to help. If you're that type. The exact degree to which you chose to contribute is where the conflict lies.

I think that's what he's going through; it's a search for nothing less than the meaning of life. Which is something like: yourself as reflected in others via your actions. I mean, I'm not saying I understand it in any capacity. Even I can't trip like that. I'm saying, I see what he's going through and more than anything else I'm proud. Like every good parent I know, the only thing I really want for my kid to turn out better than me. I can say with a great deal of certainly that's he's already way ahead in terms of development and awareness. I was still searching for meaning in Chip & Dale's Rescue Rangers at his age.

It's weird though. He's become more like Swift. He hangs out with the other cats more now and not so much in my room with me. He's taken a shining to our lunch meats, and he's all cute when he stands on his hind paws asking for some. We got him some new toys for being a good boy and I think he digs new mousy. So, it's hardly bad… just odd. He's a cool cat these days. I kind of miss Mos though.

-tony
I'll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreaming

Since Mos is apparently on a hiatus – an existential crisis can be tough on a young cat - I'm stepping in for an entry.

At first I wasn't going to write a review of this show. Then I was. Then I wasn't. Now typing this sentence I'm not sure of anything other then the fact that once I breach the first paragraph threshold this will likely be a 1,400+ word affair that may or may not be suitable for mass consumption. I do know that an account of my irrational trepidation is just what you need to tune your interest to the exact frequency that renders the rest of the world mute as you passionately pour over the words below committing each one to memory – and heart. Well, not really. But this is the basis of the reality I create that allows me to operate in the desired capacity.  

Saturday night we saw Voxtrot, at Transit – Making Time, performing for the first time in Philly. Like, ever.

I've never actually been to Transit before but in retrospect don't understand why more bands don't play there (aside from the availability of other similarly sized but more band-oriented locales). Style/layout-wise it is tremendous, especially if you are into: gothic architecture engaged in scandalous dance with glam decor – it's like they are both drunk and falling all over each other while implausibly keeping rhythm; stairwells and doorways that adhere to "no two must be alike" and "must not be where expected" design principles; and oddly, though clearly purposely, positioned pieces of furniture whose being can only be explained via parental experimentation with everything from hallucinogenics to semi-nude pottery during term.

I know that sometimes my descriptions fall short so to complement: if you can follow the structure and suppositions of the previous sentence – that's kind of like trying to find a bathroom at Transit. I know right, kinda fun!

Complementing the charming miscellany of interior decor is a genuinely friendly staff. At first I thought it was just the couple security guys, then just the downstairs bartenders as we shared a "we can smoke here!?" moment. However all the way through, to getting comped drinks at the end of the night for being model citizens, all Transit employees were improbably pleasant. It's almost as if during the hiring process they have check box on the application that says "I am a jackass" – and then they don't hire people that check that off. More places should try that.

--

Voxtrot , recorded, doesn't sound like a ton of other material out there. Their work is a sum of careful arraignments, fairly thick – but not busy accents, clear and light vocals with dense lyrics all over friendly melodies. The result is music that achieves the rare duality of being unique and universal. Their distinction is not derived from being an outlier on the sonic palette or by a posturing contempt for being accessible. The sound is distinct because they are really good at what they do. There is a real sense of easy craftsmanship to their work that is all the more impressive given the where they are in their career.

They opened the set with a song I don't know. I have a note that says "cool guitar part" and that's the last one of the show – it sounded like a cover and in retrospect I'm glad it wasn't a track I knew. The unfamiliarity with the material highlighted their strength as performers; they sound like the proverbial two tons of fun. The crowd was into it throughout the first song so by the time that segued into Kid Gloves – pound for pound my favorite track on the LP – the audience coalesced into a general state of affable frenzy that would characterize that the rest of the set. This has been said by others who have seen the band and I'll echo the sentiment: they don't sound nearly as manicured live but are great just the same. It's definitely a tradeoff, but: 1. Um, necessary. I don't think they have the pull(yet) to travel around with the Tosca String Quartet, who perform on the album 2. In a live setting the extra energy that comes across, at the expense of some of the lost details, is worth it. As a band they have a very genuine quality on stage, I'm not sure how to describe it otherwise. It seems like a collective really finding itself and thoroughly enjoying the process; their energy is certainly legitimate.

--

Quick story about how I made a total ass of myself before the set: As usual at these things, lacking any information beforehand as to when Voxtrot would go on and refusing to chance missing them, we arrived early. As usual at that point, we just kind of hang out and drink (At the fabulous upstairs lounge: I'm not sure who the DJ was but his tracks spoke in a delightful tone of situational congruity to my ears and heart and I liked that. A lot, actually. Even more than the couches which spoke tenderly to my posterior). Anyway, killing two hours drinking in an establishment that allows smoking precipitates, for me, in a gradual disconnect from objective reality. At that point, walking down to the main floor, Art and I noticed Ramesh and decided to walk over to say Hello/Thank you. Normally in these kinds of situations that's all I want out of the encounter. I have no interest in lionizing anyone via autograph/picture requests. If the opportunity is present to let someone know of my appreciation for their work in person – I like doing that.

There are a bunch of problems with this scenario all stacked like Jenga blocks on a foundation of my slightly inebriated state. The biggest ones are as follows: over the last year and a half or so I really don't think I've identified, lyrically, with another artist quite like I have with most Voxtrot material. I like a lot of other artists lyrics, for a lot of reasons, but the way I relate to Ramesh's writing is easily the most unaffected – for a bunch of reasons that even I'm not crazy enough to get into in this space. The result is that odd relationship where you really appreciate a person, in a rather personal way, but don't actually know them or anything about them.

Also, about a month ago, in response to this blog post I sent him an e-mail that, with the benefit of hindsight, I can say had the right idea but probably came off as a bit too confrontational (mostly it was just unnecessary). So, walking up to him and right after the Hello/Thank you portion of the exchange – anxious with a vague feeling of guilt over the e-mail (trust me, I am aware of all the levels on which is this is stupid) – I launched into a roundabout way of defending the things I wrote via complete non sequiturs.

Here is the most tantalizing part of this social train wreck: I was 99% sure he didn't remember the e-mail, so I purposely tried to say things that didn't directly deal with that. I was more concerned however with the 1% chance that he did, so I had a kind of defensive tone. The effect is something like a "Platitudes/Punch line of a story you don't know" form of tourettes. This all precipitated in him making the, "Oh, you know I actually have to check…" and walking away as he is still talking, move after a few minutes. God bless him for that. I really think we made him uncomfortable. I guess this is my DJ Shadow moment of 2007. "I love what you're doing for hip-hop". Kill me. 

--

ANYWAY, back during the set the guys moved on to Mothers, Daughters, Sisters & Wives and looking behind me I realize just how many people are on the main floor now and how into the performance they are. This user-friendliness is the other aspect of the band I thoroughly enjoy and was able to experience for the first time first hand. Mothers… is, at gun point, my favorite overall track by them. Still is. I know that the way I hear it is nothing like anyone else, especially not someone hearing it live for the first time. That they are able to get across not only the raw energy of the song, and the melody, but also some of the emotional connotation is remarkable. Watching people who clearly didn't know the material that well bounce around and pick up on certain idiosyncrasies here and there but the whole time stay with the energy of the track, building up to the breakdown at the end – that specific part reminded me of how I felt the first time I heard it - was a lot of fun to see.

Probably a good time to mention that part of their immediate accessibility, maybe just on this night, was due to the clarity of their sound. Maybe that's a function of our position right in front but not a single instrument felt overpowering at any point during the performance - this is entirely more rare than it should be. From a technical standpoint I can't complain about how anything sounded; though I'm not exactly any sort of resounding authority on the matter. Anti-authority, if anything.  

Biggest Fan followed, then Soft & Warm and a new song. This part of the set is a blur. A fantastic fantastic blur accented by Soft & Warm's chorus and Ramesh playing piano on that track. 

The new song also sounded promising from what I could tell but more than that I'm just excited that they are already writing new material. Only one thing bothered me during this portion and you might want to skip the next paragraph. I know how I'm about to sound, and I don't care; I've never once flipped out about this and am now taking my turn. PSA:

The person at the front who is under the impression that most people in the crowd are there to see them. In this case the girl with the intricate ink work down her arms (which was, in all fairness, visually rather agreeable). Yes, you. I know that ostensibly I am in no position to dictate how a person should enjoy the show. I also realize that it is quite a daring, arguably impossible, logical leap on my part to evocate your motivation. That being said – Dude… no one is there to see you . Stop jumping up in front of the singer facing the crowd and lip syncing entire songs while spasticly emoting with your arms. Not only is it distracting if you are actually trying to watch, not only do I get sidetracked as I am momentarily lost in a hope that this is finally the time the security guard accidentally takes you down a little too hard, not only do I feel like a horrible human being after catching myself in the previous moment, but you ruined what could have been a phenomenal picture!  Honestly? It's the turning to the crowd and signing thing that really bothers me. The combination of, on an admittedly extremely minor level, appropriating someone else work for your own glorification in front of them  and doing so at the expense of the enjoyment of those people there to see the actual artist fundamentally disturbs me. My fucking brain actually momentarily threatens collapse under the strain of trying to chart the psychological underpinnings at the root of such a display of narcissism and total lack of perspective. [/rant]

The next two songs I pretty much disconnected entirely from the audience – partially due to the aforementioned annoyance. Raised by Wolves (first song I ever heard/liked by them) and Brother in Conflict (top 3 off the LP) found me leaning against the speaker stacks having a cigarette and being completely lost in the sound. Very dramatic on my part I'm sure. I seriously blocked out everything else, even the mechanics of the performance, and just kind of went mesmerized for a bit.

The last song was The Start of Something, this is when - for lack of a more original description – the crowd went nuts and practically rushed the stage. My favorite moment of the night. The song itself is one where it's actually difficult to tell what time period it was composed in, I think 'timeless' is the cliché I am looking for. It's very upbeat but, recorded, gentle. For whatever reason the opening chords/words effected a universal, palpable, excitement from everyone. It was as surprising as it was completely natural; great choice as closer for a sack-full of reasons both concrete and metaphysical.  

Outstanding set; truly impressive in execution and feel. I, literally, have no complains other than I wish that they played longer. I assumed I would be disappointed to some degree with the song selection but even that is strictly a byproduct of somewhat short performance. Looking over the list I don't think there is anything I would swap out. I wouldn't change a thing. That's the really memorable thing about this show. Most people didn't enjoy it like I did, that's impossible. You could feel everyone else in a similar place though; the music was like a public platform on which everyone connected through their private reactions. I know that in theory you can say that about any concert. During this one though the juxtaposition felt like a celebration. It felt pretty cool. I had a good time.  

 "…there is no choice in the things that we hear; We hear our lives inside these sounds", Ramesh Srivmastava (Voxtrot)

 track.list:
No Idea – cool guitar part
Kid Gloves
Mothers Daughters Sisters Wives
Biggest Fan
Soft & Warm
New Song
Raised by Wolves
Brother in Conflict
Start of Something 

note: All photographs by Arthur Shvarts; aka The Illustrious A-R-T; aka the Dude; aka Mr. Poofy; aka Tracy Chapman. All-purpose terrific human being. There are a bunch more pictures, selected by someone who is not a baboon in the photographic arena - which is clearly the case here - and I'll link once he posts them. I attempted to follow the words somewhat with the pictures but, as is the norm, ended up posting as many as I reasonably could where I liked the way they looked. I take the utilitarian approach.

-tony
may my laughter remain, like your kiss blew me away

I am swelling with pride, this is so cool! Kiri even got my facial coloring characteristics spot on.

This is it, in terms of updates, for the week. I don't have a lot of time due to happenings around the house that are epic in scope – and time consuming as a byproduct. A full narrative detailing the proceedings will drop next week. I will have: words, pictures, and revelations. You will have: the foundation of your reality cast in doubt. This is how I do: transcendence by way of transference.

-mos cat

Humans miss the simplest things. It seems like you guys are entirely too caught up in analyzing your hectic lives and interactions with other humans. You also piss and moan like no other. For a species with such a diverse array of vocalization options available to you I am baffled that the intonation you gravitate towards more so than any other is: whining. Dude, we all have our bad days. What I don't understand is how you can wake up in the morning feeling anything less than elated at the prospect of a new day pregnant with a litter of possibilities.

I think it's because deep down you know you can be doing more. Maybe it's not life you should be expecting more from, maybe it's you.

--

Luckily for you, for today, I can be your spirit animal. A sort of guide to a sense of well being and borderline enlightenment.

I know what you're thinking: "Life is a grind man, shit ain't easy. It must be nice to sit around the house all day with AC, internet access and no responsibility and tell others that they aren't sufficiently happy with their mounting debt, lack of sleep and a general feeling that something about this world is terribly wrong. How am I supposed to achieve enlightenment when I don't even have time to get regular physical checkups and for all I know could be dying right now? What about the fact that this last item doesn't even crack my top 20 concerns at the moment?"

First, that kind of hissy fit is exactly what I am talking about. Chill, please.

Second, I have plenty of responsibilities! Don't cast the first stone son; I carry my weight. Keep in mind you probably have at least a bill and a half on me.

Third, enlightenment is easy! That's what I'm trying to tell you! Life is hard. Congratulations, what do you want me to say? The thing I don't understand is how you guys let that discourage you. You've gotten to your spot on the evolutionary totem pole specifically because you were always equal to the challenge of living. Not by whining. You're probably doing quite fine this very moment, your attitude just sucks. That's all enlightenment is, a state of mind.

As a matter of fact, to make it even easier for you, I'll give you a shortcut. I understand that sometimes it's hard to keep in good spirits when it seems like you can't catch a single break. Here is what you do:

Get. A. Cat.

And look here (how convenient!), these are coming from a roommate of Dave's (who I like because he is weird and cleaned our old house after one party) and the note is copied verbatim below as posted by Michelle (who I like because she talks to me like an adult). Peep the in-need-of-loving-home adorable-ness:

--

Hey everyone,

Dave's roommate fosters kittens and I want you to adopt them. Instead of these kitties being put to sleep, she takes them in until someone adopts them.

Here is what she has to say:

4 kittens for adoption! I have 3 female calico kittens. Two of them have EXTRA TOES! I also have a black & white male. They are only 3 weeks old and will not be adopted out untill after 8 weeks old. All kittens tested negative for feline leukemia, have been dewormed, given their 1st vaccine, will be neutered and microchiped free of charge! A $25.00 adoption fee will be sent to Pacca (Philadelphia Animal Care & Control Assoc.) Contact me if you are interested in a loving little kitty! 

So basically you guys can get a kittie with all of their shots and neutered for only a $25 dollar donation adoption fee to PACCA. I am attaching pictures of them. They are totally adorable (even the freakish ones with extra toes!)

--

I added the emphasis there. I know how your bottom-line asses work. But seriously, those guys look sharp. They could totally have a bright future ahead of them if someone gives them the chance. Dig their crazy Cillian Murphy peepers! And they are even ahead of the evolutionary curve with the extra toes! What others powers will they manifest!? Maybe the power to… move you.

You could do something today that changes two lives. Your being one. That's all I'm sayin.

-mos cat

I am expanding my talents. Looking to challenge my skills. Striving to break down that invisible wall that separates myself from a better version of myself.

So I asked Dad for some catnip and ideas. He made a stupid joke about my literary prowess and cats on a fence and went back to listening to music. I told him that I can write anything better than anyone he knows. He did that thing where one of his eyebrows migrates to the middle of his forehead and skews the entire face (this kind of freaks me out by the way). He said that I can't even write as well as Kid Rock. I said I can definitely write a better name. He got me my catnip and said he had work to get done.

Subsequently, listening to Kid Rock (scouting the competition), I got a great idea. I can write better than this clown. I can write better than him with one paw tied behind my back. Which is precisely what I intend to do. Figuratively.

I will rewrite Kid Rocks material using only literary clichés. At his own game is what this shit is called. Original, for reference; so you can properly grasp the new greatness.

Bawitdaba (Literary Cliché Remix) - Mos Cat

Bawitdaba da mos a dang kitty kitty kitty said the katkat said down get the katkat (6x)

My name is MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOS,
Mos Cat!

Bawitdaba da mos a dang kitty kitty kitty said the katkat said down get the katkat (4x)

It's still Mostly for the questions that don't have any answers
Midnight romances and the furtive glances
Sarcastic grins, the contents of 'dis box is lethal
He thought to himself, "Man, what are you thinking?"

The towering heights and some land that's plundered
The goings' good for the goose until the goose gets captured
All the pimps, the ho's, the game hatin' players
Delusional ramblings of a lost causes prayer 

Escape the daily grind, avoid the IRS
For the dusty roads and the creaky stairs
To the pitch black nights and blood red sunsets
It's all in your head, the gun, the girl, the blood on the bed 

For the dreams that come to die in Hollywood
Adorable kitty kats that are misunderstood
You can chase the wind, but that seems kinda dumb
Get over yourself; embrace the warmth of the sun

Bawitdaba da mos a dang kitty kitty kitty said the katkat said down get the katkat (4x)

When the chips are down go out with a bang
The gravity in your eyes means that mine just hang
Wild nights, the heat up off the street
If you don't like Mos Cat you can suck my [radio edit]

Things you cannot buy, the grass that grows greener
Howling winds that wrap you up in the dead of winter
Win some, loose some, it don't get to me
'cause I'm high as a bird and twice as free 

meow,meow,meow,meow,meow
meow,meow,meow,meow,meow

For the love, and for the hate
And for the peace.... WARRRRRRRRRRRR!

(I couldn't change the last two lines; within the parameters of what I was trying to do it is impossible. We've reached our limit. None more cliché.)

Parental Note:
I just want to stress that I am in no way in support of this post which may be perceived as mocking of Mr. Rock who at this point in his career might just be bored and out of the limelight enough to: 1.) find something like this 2.) give a crap. The previous statement is also not an insult and is meant with all due respect - obviously. I just don't want him to show up on my doorstep next week or something. I can handle myself and whatever, but the dude will probably come with a cane. What do you do with that? Pull his pimp hat over his eyes and run? That's not manly. A sarcasm laden pre-emptive apology is what a real man does. This man anyway.  - tony

My Father ladies and gentlemen. The Hero.

-mos cat

Bloody nose, bloody tentacle, bloody note.

Is this what the British mean when they say Bloody Hell?

My Dad's voice in the back of my head, "Well, at least you are learning something".

I want to bloody scream.

It's a broken kaleidoscope inside my head, I need to take a step back and get some perspective. I need to go find Mousy.

Mousy. Used.

Mousy is a bit unstable, but a solid guy. The kind of dude you can count on in a very serious situation but not in every day life. I get at him on the high frequency and we make plans to meet at our hang out spot, The Landing. I hope he's teetering towards sanity today because I'm in no shape to balance us out.

The. Landing.

"Check out your mug Mos, what happened? What does the other guy look like?" 

"A snake in cat's clothing. I've got me a Swift problem. I woke up yesterday and realized him and Kerrigan were in Dad's room at night…."

… 

[time lapse]

Buddies. Conversating.

…

"That's fucked up yo"

"Thanks Mousy, insightful as always"

"No, I mean – this seems major"

"Right, and here I though my face being torn up and having been delivered the appendage of my friend was a minor occurrence. You know, everyday type shit."

"You're panicked, not thinking straight, you gotta check yourself. Think about it man, what if everything is backwards of what you think it is?"

"Maybe… I did think this conversation may be helpful, but am now totally open to the idea that the opposite might be the case"

"You're not listening to me!"

"The problem is I am! I need help here Mous', not delusional ramblings. They left me Seclapuses freaking leg and are holding the rest of him ransom for stupid amounts of Deli-Cat that I can't get. Tell me, how is everything opposite of what I think it is? Because if I can bring them the tentacle in exchange for some Deli-Cat and they just let Seclapus go while Swift is a skinny good guy and Kerrigan is the definition of sanity… you let me know. I am perfectly agreeable with the situation if that is the case."

"You're fixating on the tentacle!"

"It used to be affixed to a good friend!"

"It doesn't even mean it's his! You want a tentacle? I can get you a tentacle by noon."

"…um… why? I mean… how? …. Wait, what?"

"Never mind, I'm just saying if you want a random appendage that kind of stuff isn't as difficult to come by as you think if you know the right people"

"If it's all the same to you I'd prefer not to know the right kind of people in this case. I'm weary of limb merchants"

"Whatever, I'm just saying it's possible"

"… but not exactly useful, now is it? No offense man but you're not helping, maybe I need to be alone. Maybe there is something I am missing here. I need to take a step back... [looks over at mousy] … just not a step back into madness you demented rodent."

"I am not my cuz; but suit yourself buddy. I'll hit the crawl space though and see what I can dig up. I'll let you know if I find anything interesting"

"Related to this right here only… please. I need to focus dude."

"Alright-alright-alight. I promise I'll do my best to stay… prurient"

"Now you're really freaking me out. I'll catch you around Mousy"

"Stay frosty Mos"

Leaving The Landing I felt the way I always do after a talk with Mousy: disoriented, slightly frightened and better about myself. That guy has issues… I wonder if it's a height thing. Anyway, I've been running around like a dog and I think that has been my problem. I gotta play the game and stop letting it play me. I need to take a step back, grab some catnip, throw on some Mos Def… relax and… analyze. Ha ha. Whooooo Wheeeeeee. Put it in the aiiiiiiir.

[Hazy musical interlude]

"I'm Mos Cat, you need to speak louder!..  Take a breath, take ten paces back"

"…cat's heavy at the weigh-in, and he's playing for keeps."

"Numbers is hardly real and they never have feelings; but you push too hard, even numbers got limits; Why did one straw break the camel's back? Here's the secret: the million other straws underneath it – it's all mathematics"

Oh. My. God.

The straw!

--

It's show time. High noon. Dwidle Dee and Dwidle Fat await.

High. Post.

Up on the High Post I know they can see me coming all the way from Dining Valley. I approach slowly, steadily. They can also see that I don't have the Deli-Cat with me. I don't think they are in a position to do anything about it though. I am curious as to how the whole thing will play out. While I don't have the upper paw I don't think they realize exactly what's happening here. I'm counting on my trademark quick decision making and push-comes-to-shove-will-kill-you-ness to pull me through this. Hopefully a quick decision at one point or another will involve implanting a claw or two into Benedict Fatass. I'm not going to junk the mission to settle a score but if the opportunity presents itself he'll be remember this day as the first of his life where his biggest concern wasn't how to get food but how to eat it. What with no throat and all.

I think that's the thing about revenge, more than anything else it's just fun to think about. Steadies the nerves. In practice it's rarely the best decision in almost any circumstance. Maybe that's why it's best served cold. It's an appetizer, hardly the main course.  

"Psst… Mos"

Damn, the catnip isn't completely out of my system. The floor is talking to me. Great. It's a good thing I don't need to be hyper-alert or anything.  

"Mos! Stop spacing and listen to me, it's Mousy. I'm in the crawlspace."

"Um… kinda in the middle of something here Mous' can this wait?" 

"NO!"

"Dude, they are starring at me right now" 

"Pretend you have to lick your junk like it's an emergency, something."

Emergency. Emergency.

"Mousy, I don't have a lot of time. I can practically see the synapses in Swifts head firing and any moment now they are going to make their way through the layers of fat and he's going to realize something is off."

"Ok, ok. Just take these."

Too. Cool.

"Mousy! I'm not going to a movie premier! What is wrong with you!?!"

"Just trust me, you'll need them. I don't have time to explain but you'll know when the moment is right. "

"Alright man, whatever you say. Now scoot! If they make a move for us now this likely won't end well."

"Do your thing Mos"

--

I approach the High Post to Swifts gargled greeting:

"Where is the Deli-Cat"

"The store was closed"

"Well, in that case I think the store is about to close on your buddy being a member of the 'Strange Number of Limbs' club"

"Hm, is that next to the Jerk Store?" 

"I don't think this is a game you want to play young cat"

"I don't think I'm the one being played" 

"What?"

"He's right Swift. If you weren't so driven by the prospect of your next meal you might take a look around and realize that the Seclapus standing next to you may be the chef... but you're the main course! Tonight's special is dead cat. Trick one, get two free."

Seclapus! Stunning!

It takes everyone a moment to re-orient themselves. I'm a little surprised Seclapus made his move so early. Swift is momentarily stunned and is psychologically going back in time to his last meal to get into a comfortable mental space. Kerrigan doesn't believe in anything, including being useful even in the slightest sense. It seems like the effort involved is about to get the best of her. Seclapus doesn't hesitate and is rapidly moving towards the mechanism controlling the Great Blinds. In a flash I realize his plan. With the midday sun advancing across the High Post and threatening to cover the entire Kitchen District everything snaps into place. 

The effect is blinding. Kerrigan goes down faster than gravity should allow for. Swift summons a terrifying effort and with a strength I frankly didn't know he had stumbles forward a step. He takes another but his hind quarters fail to cooperate. Like a fatter hairier version of the Terminator missing his legs he attempts to move out of the conscious erasing sunlight but considering the bulk he must drag even his sizable anterior appendages fail and... well... I'll save you the Titanic joke.

Personally the last time I saw anything like this was on the History Channel, something in the 1930's in Lake Hurst, NJ. Over 30 people died that day. Something about a Hamburger. This is like that.  

This is the fate I am spared. Mousy, you're a demented genius.

Shades. On!

"Mos! How did you know?" 

"A little bird... um, without wings... told me. Seclapus, how could you?"

"You don't know what it's like Mos! Every day I am a second class citizen around here. It's like I'm barely a member of the same spacies" 

"Um, Secla' – you aren't a member of this species"

"I know, I know. But does that mean its ok to just treat me like some… thing? Like I don't have feelings? Just because I'm not the same as you doesn't mean I hurt any different. It doesn't mean that when you stick a claw in my eye and run around the house for an hour it doesn't leave me disoriented for days. When I get left all day next to Swifts litter basket it doesn't mean I don't contemplate suicide. Just the other day Mos, we were all playing catch, right? That's what you guys promised. Catch! Well, tell me... what was I catching? Except some horrifying airtime. I had enough man. I'm sorry, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to do something…"

"You're right Seclapus; I don't know what it's like. … And I don't care"  

Judo Paw!

It ends fast; it's for the best.  

I close the blinds, figure I'll let Swift and Kerrigan sleep it off. The balance of power shifted today, they were tricked by Seclapus and it nearly cost us all. We'll have to have a frank discussion regarding social rank around here when they come to. Mousy did well, true to form.

Now I must go. Where?
Probably hit Windowsill Point.

Why?
Let it all soak in, that's a lot of shit to take in two days.

How?
I'm cat. How do you think?
 

Into. Sunset.

--

Meanwhile elsewhere in the house:

"Seclapus failed me, luckily the circumstances of his letdown took care the loose end his life would have represented"

"We must find another way"

"Yes Rory Dent, we must. And I have just the plan"

"I am at your disposal Mr. Get'Well Pig."

Get. Well.

--

From that day forward there was a new regular on the High Post. A new respect. The coming days would not be easy as the recently passed events would, in time, prove to be but a prologue. But there is a new bandito in town. He may not be the biggest cat, volume wise; but he is the Mos Cat.

Once. Future.

--

"Oh yeah? That sounds like a busy day buddy. -  You hungry? Wanna grab some Deli-Cat? I have to tell you about my day at work, you will not believe what happened"

-mos cat

P.S. Oh, and I'm not really sure what this means but Dad asked me to include this at the end of my next post:

"Guys, FYI, I haven't completely lost it or anything. Seriously."

He's weird.