Wednesday, August 29, 2012


Well, I devoted about five minutes this morning watching Mitt's Wife, dressed in blood red, give her speech at the Repug Convention about "love."  This she did standing before a backdrop of super-enlarged photos of her and Mitt at their wedding, and others of Mitt dating back to his youthful glory days as a bully of gays and other outsiders. That was about all I could handle without breaking out the booze, and since it was a little early for that, I chose to brave it without.  

Big mistake.  Five minutes in, I could no longer stifle the wretch urge.  I tore myself away from the computer and fled, not even pausing at the bathroom, but stumbling out into the yard--almost tore the screen door off its hinges.  Luckily, the urge passed.  But then, I turned and saw--horror of horrors--my innocent little kitty sitting outside the window, staring--zombie-like--at the computer screen, as Mitt's Wife blathered on about how she knows all those homeless and jobless people Out There Across America, those poor working mothers, the single dads Out There, working extra hours, and feels their pain.  The camera kept cutting away to show the audience of true believers watching her, dewy-eyed--like a legion of zombies--the living dead!  

"No! No!!  Poor little kitty, don't look!" I shouted, as I bolted across the yard intending to yank her away from the window.  But--too late!  Before I could get to her, to slam my hand in front of her eyes, I watched her head droop slightly, her rib-cage start to oscillate, like a bellows. Then--oh, the horror!--the poor creature began heaving up on the porch, spewing projectile lumps of yellow curd and bile all over the window. Poor stupid dumb animal! Sick, frightened little beast!  She should have known better, I guess. But how? How can you tell a kitty not to look at something?  (Go ahead, try it sometime.)  Oh, how could she possibly know not to watch anything so obscene, vile, and horrible? Alas, we cannot always shield our little innocent ones from all the smarmy, feckless, dung-slinging deceivers.  

I tell you this in hopes that you will spare yourselves this gruesome experience.  Whatever you do, don't watch ANY of it!  Turn away! Divert your eyes from the screen! Believe me, I know.  I lived through it.  My cat barely survived.  Even now, the poor dazed wretch is sprawled on the porch, her red eyes staring listlessly. . .at nothing. Sweet bleeding Jesus!
I won't let her watch the Obama convention either.