Sunday, December 18, 2011

Post-Friday Beast Blogging: The "What's the Matter With Kansas?" Edition

As you probably heard, the Kansas Tea Party group, Patriot Freedom Alliance, posted a photo of a skunk on its website, with the caption: "The skunk has replaced the eagle as the new symbol for the President.  It is half black, half white, and almost everything it does, stinks."  Naturally, this did not escape the attention of the cats.
Riley, of course, is also black and white, and has likewise suffered for it, frequently enduring the unwanted attentions of an amorous French skunk who sees only her saddle shoe color scheme.  But she chooses, as always, to remain dignified, and replies to the Hutchinson, Kansas Tea Partiers by flashing her Malcolm X gang sign, just to mess with 'em.
Moondoggie is also two-toned, although as a Marmalade he is seldom subjected to racial abuse, and only occasionally faces the threat that a thoroughly pissed English football hooligan will attempt to spread him on toast.  As a result, he remains young and innocent, and his response is to crawl into my lap, gaze into my eyes, and ask, "Why are people so mean?"  Then, when I find myself at a loss to answer this guileless and profound query, he immediately follows it up with, "Why aren't you scratching my butt?"

From the mouths of babes.


Keith said...

Perhaps Pepe Le Pew might want to have a roll in the hay with that Riley. But Pepe has been retired by WB.

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

I suppose the P.F.A. teabaggers missed this appropriate symbol for the Administration that they, no doubt, voted for both times?

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

err symbol

Li'l Innocent said...

Such dainty 'abits, zese ladeez!

Dear kitties.

Pepe Is Eternal, btw. Take it from a fellow lady.

Thunder, that's a very pathetic piccy of a (dead?) Canada goose but I don't get the reference to GWBush, if that's the administration you mean. Sorry if I'm being dense; blame it on my rhinovirus.

Anntichrist S. Coulter said...

Dear darlin' Innocent, Moondoggie is a BOY, as are 89% of ALL GINGERS!!!

Very very rarely, you WILL find a legitimate ginger and/or marmalade (ginger + white patches/markings) female that is NOT the result of innumerable-generation-continuation inbreeding.

Most mossa' dah time, if you find a girl ginger (as I have, ONCE, with those poor abandoned cats from SLAUGHTER, LA, brought to my attention by lowlife white trash who then ABANDONED THEM ALL THE FUCK *OVER* AGAIN and left me tit-deep in TWENTY-THREE inbred/polydactyl kittehs of every possible color/pattern/permutation. It was a long week, and no, the po-po did NOTHING about the whore's misdeeds against critters/nature, nor did any of the West or East Redneckistan "media"/TeeVee "news," Redneckistan Humane Society evil-snatches sadiddy society twunts, not so much as picking up a fucking PHONE to help/prosecute!!!), she's her own cousin & step-mother, and she can have upwards of 23 - 40 toes, bless her heart. Most are not developmentally-disabled intellectually or personality-development-wise, beyond the usual feral-cat paranoia: "Leave Meh Alone Or I KEEEELLLL YOU!!!!"

Though, in that TNR episode, I also met MALE gingers & marmalades who were actually MORE DANGEROUS than their sister-mate-cousin counterparts. That almost NEVER happens with truly wild cats, usually it's from animals who have to be seized b/c of blatant abuse. Like lions, the female ferals do the hunting, killing, fighting-like-all-hell to protect their families, constantly-fighting-teh-sick-as-fuck-"hoomins" who GET OFF on KILLING INNOCENT ANIMALS, etc., whilst teh males tend to take it easy, beyond marking territory, advanced napping techniques and lifelong (or testicle-life-long) scholarship of the feline version of the "Kama Sutra." Finding perfect shade/meal-stashing trees is what they do for extra credit, in both lions AND ferals.

Most ferals AREN'T tree animals, unless absolutely necessary, and most often when it offers the perfect position from which the smartasses sneer down towards me, "Nyeah-nyeh-nah-boo-boo!" Fuckin' ingrates.

Sorry to drag y'all so fucking far off-topic, but I do have a weakness, deep and abiding in my heart for gingers and marmalades, especially the ones who thought of me as THEIR pet back @ L'Hotel des Fouquetards --- and those were some of the first cats murdered by the Chalmation trailer-trash skank "manager" & her sociopathic animal-hating piece-of-shit so-called "handyman" @ said Fucktard Hotel.

Sorry, again, for being a bummer, y'all, especially you, Scott, on such a beautiful and wryly charming post about the most photogenic cosmic-traveler cats in existence. (TRUNCATED)

Anntichrist S. Coulter said...

(CONTINUED, still *vaguely* linked to Pepe LePew!)

Riley reminds me of ferals & abandoned kittens/cats that I have loved & lost, and Moondoggie, even moreso. Different coloring & build, but the permanently-innocent eyes, the trusting face, the Bubbe-Boy slut-level love of hoomins, but Moonie could be the twin-brother/father/cousin doppelganger to a long-lost beloved little boy kitteh, Craig, when it comes to affection, personality and ability to train hoomins. Craig & Moonie would've gotten along fabulously, as well as Ginger Baker & his similarly-ginger Papi, both near-color twins to Moonie. Sorry to blather so fucking much tonight, but I just adore these cats so fucking much, and I miss the volunteer TNR work SO fucking much it HURTS, esp. when I see the running-like-hell ferals & abandoned babies around here.

Melodramatic horseshit now concluded, apologies to all around, please, as you were, continue your lovely communication. And yes, I, too, miss Pepe LePew, a character originated by Mel Blanc (in human form & when Mel wasn't playing Jack Benny's suicidal/homicidal violin teacher) way before the first cell of skunk animation was inked. Oh, how I miss Mel Blanc --- how I always wanted his gift for voices; not just for CREATING utterly-unique characters, voise-first, but I also craved & needed his unflagging ability to REPEAT performances of said characters without dropping a fucking BEAT.

When I was in radio, back before they invented dirt, that was my main production handicap: not being able to replicate the original voice I'd created, in order to develop it into a character for repeated usage/development. That man was a short, nebbishy fucking "GAWD." (Y'know, without insulting his memory by remembering only his cult affiliations.) He was one of my first & longest-standing heroes, because as much as I wanted to get paid for writing, radio production, spoken-word gigs, etc., --- if I hadda go on-air, I wanted to be as distinctive and magnificently-imaginative as Mel's work.

And yes, Billy West is an amazing successor to the throat throne, but bless him, he'll never be Blanc. He, together with Jon Kricfalusi, will be highly-regarded artists in their own right, for their every shared gig. Just wait --- before long, trade schools that teach radio production & art schools that produce the non-CGI-cloned actual ARTISTS, performing-arts colleges/voice-training entities --- if there is ANY decency in the world, curriculum will be designed to not only pay tribute to Mel, but to try and learn how to DO WHAT HE DID. If only... *sigh*

Carl said...

Oh Scott! This masked racism...felinism?...that's so quaint!

Anonymous said...

Dear me, I saw Blanc do Professor LeBlanc just a couple of weeks ago. It was a scream.

Keith said...

Antti: Saw a Jack Benny TV show a few days ago. As you know, whenever Jack goes shopping, his nemesis is Mr. Mel Blanc.

In this instance Jack goes to a high street haberdashery to get a nice xmas present for Rodchester. As usual, Jack's attendant is Mr. Blanc. But unusual, as Mr. Benny drives Mel out of his head. Mel goes off-set. Then we hear the lound gunshot noises. Mel doesn't return.

I didn't know you were involved in radio. Thanks for sharing that.

Li'l Innocent said...

Annti, sweetcakes, I wuz referring to Riley with the dainty 'abits quote. Avec! Regardez zose crossed ankles, so ooo-lala!

But, hey, such slight misconstruing was worth it to set off one of your great splurges. Merry Yule to ya, babe. Any human or creature who has you on their side has something going for them.

Anntichrist S. Coulter said...

Keef: Akshually, Mel wasn't so much a "nemesis" as an aggrieved service/skilled-labor/professional who is, unwittingly, sucked-into the World O'Tightass Benny, who then drives poor, sweet, schlubby Mel from whatever accent he'd originally designed for said character into the damned-near profane yelling that would evolve into Yosemite Sam. Watching old episodes of Jack Benny's shows is a whole new education in the art of Mel Blanc, as well as many a gut-worthy laugh from Mr. Benny and, of course, the longsuffering Eddie Anderson as "Rochester," a groundbreaking character who was less "servant" and more equal, occasionally-nagging-yenta, often "Odd Couple"-esque roommate, but always trying to squeeze another dime out of Jack, if only for the basic necessities of life.

BTW, of all of Mel's exasperated, stressed-to-fuck-and-back characters on Benny's show, I'd have to say that his borderline-suicidal violin teacher, "Monsieur Le Blanc" would have to be my favorite. How they shot this in front of a live studio audience, let alone broadcast it live in the early days, without Mel slipping-up and cussing like a teamster with his thumb caught in scissor jack --- I suppose would have to attest to the high levels of professionalism and restraint of the entire ensemble cast, but oh holy FUCK it had to be DIFFICULT AS ALL HELL. Mel was one of the big reasons (along with Friz Freleng, Tex Avery, et al.) that I LIVED for those old WB cartoons from the late '30s - early '50s, when cartoons were for GROWN-UPS --- because, having grown up in a household with a 'mother' who could out-cuss any state trooper on duty and never once have to remove the Winston from between her clenched teeth, I could ALWAYS tell which Yosemite Sam "frickin' frackin'" etc. correlated to which ACTUAL "cuss" words. Oh, how I miss living in world where we were still ALLOWED to see those classics, where Bugs was our first world-famous drag queen and where that little red-stached midget tempted everyone in ear's reach to cuss their high blood pressure away!

BTW, the REAL nemesis of Jack's TV show would HAVE to be Frank Nelson, the MOST-grating human voice on record, that "YEEE-ESSSSS???" asshole. I really really always want, even some sixty years later, for Jack to haul off and slug the living fuck outta that guy.


Anntichrist S. Coulter said...


And thank you, dear sweet Li'l Innocent, right back atcha babe! BTW, my dearly-beloved, sadly-departed Bubbe Boy could pull that EXACT same pose as Riley's here, although he rarely did the X gang-sign unless you scratched him in JUST the right spot under his armpits, one of several spots on his portly but lithe figure that he couldn't reach for himself. But the folded, cutesy-wootsie kitten paws? Oh, yeah, that's mah boy. Such a slut. And yup, Biddy & I still miss him, every damned day. Every time that I wake up, I expect to feel his dainty size-16 paws standing right on my bladder or boobs, peering into my barely-opened eyes, "MEH! MYEH-MYEH-MAH!" --- roughly translated, "GET UP AND PISS, BITCH, WE ARE *HUNGRY*! But me loves you." {insert his home-built-from-a-kit "fake" purr, an object of great pride for him, since his tracheal injury that stole his meow also stole his purr when he was a teeny tiny ball of hissy, spitty black fur.) Even with all 22 lbs. of him atop my legs and making me claustrophobic in my sleep, it was still such a comfort to have him keeping Biddy & I warm, with his Maine-Coon double-layer of wool & long, luxurious fur. And those huge, nosy, funny yellow "Halloween Cat" eyes, oh, how I miss that face turning like an owl's head, upside down and back again, looking up at me as he sprawled across me and the laptop 'puter, his big ass typing several acres of typos, and those big, blinky, "innocent" eyes, cold nose nudging my chin --- "You were through with that type-y machine thing, right? Can we watch more kitteh videos?"

And no matter how many times that I launder every item of clothing, linen, towels, you name it, I will NEVER truly be "free" of those long, wooly tumbleweeds of black fur. What I wouldn't give to hold him, just one more time, to hear that raspy, half-bossy voice, to feel that big ol' mullet-sized head of his, knocking a dent into my shin when he wanted lap time.

Never trust your dearly-beloveds to any "upwardly-mobile" so-called vets who allow their silver-spoon TWINKIES at the front desk "decide" what constitutes a veterinary EMERGENCY, when they didn't even go to SECRETARIAL SCHOOL, let alone VET SCHOOL!!! If he'd have been allowed in those six hours earlier, he might still be with us. Sorry to be such a bummer, sweetie, I just miss him so much.

And Li'l, you'll never know how much I miss the feral cat TNR rescues, hand-raising half-feral babies @ L'Hotel des Fouquetards, despite the fact that the sociopathic Chalmatian trailer whore had TWELVE OF THEM ***MURDERED*** in the span of five years there in white-trash ghetto hell. I miss it so much, feeling USEFUL, actually doing something MEANINGFUL with my life... but at this point, until I can truly get everything that's still broken REALLY FIXED, and PERMANENTLY THIS TIME, I ain't worth shit to a tree. And yes, every time that I leave this hellhole, just to go to the corner store to have my life threatened by some "customer" for being what they THINK is "white," I see feral cats and neglected dogs, almost every single day. And it breaks my heart, because I'm not the one out there getting them fixed, able to feed them, able to monitor their health & progress, able to do a DAMNED THING for them. Soon, hopefully. Soon. And thank you, even though I've been on the bench for over 3 years now.

P.S.: Super-secret decoder-ring word? SUCTION.

Google's got a camera hidden in my bedroom, the nasty bastards...