Some of you may have already heard that Annti -- our own much adored Joanna -- has suffered yet another cruel misfortune, this time the loss of her beloved "furry chirren." The Boy, as he was affectionately known, passed away in September, and now his sister, Biddy is gone. Perhaps it's a small mercy that Biddy, an older cat in poor health, won't have to spend her final days enduring the shocks and stresses that will surely follow Annti's eviction, but that means Joanna herself much face those same things alone, making this normally sad event seem all the more heartbreaking.
Joanna sent me this photo months ago, and I wish I had posted it sooner. But perhaps there is no better time than now.
Farewell, Boy and Biddy.
Happily, there is one slim ray of sunshine beaming down on the World O' Crap community. Yesterday, our Special Correspondent Keith sent me the following email:
After 16 mos. of unemployment, as of this afternoon have finally been offered a position that offers gainful employment. I'll start in a few weeks.[Details redacted so Michelle Malkin isn't tempted to snoop around his office break room, looking for granite countertops.] So that's one positive thing that's happened to a fellow Crapper, but the good news for us is that Keith (despite blandishments from another blog which has been attempting to poach our staff) will be maintaining his Wo'C Special Correspondency:
However, I shall not abandon the magnificent cause of crap and will continue to provide our readers with the worst of the worst. So stay tuned.In my own life, things continue to be stressful, but occasionally the tension is relieved by a bit of Dadaist street theater. Walking down Hollywood Boulevard yesterday, en route to meet a friend, I had to step off the curb as a young guy dressed in a backwards baseball cap, a button down shirt, and nude below the waist, burst onto the sidewalk after stealing a plaid tea towel from a souvenir shop. He engaged in a brief, violent tug-of-war with the store's middle-aged proprietor, and lost, perhaps because he could only wrestle one-handed, as the other was assigned to clutching his groin. He spun around and sprinted down the street, with the grizzled, wheezing, bespectacled shopkeeper in hot pursuit.
When I recounted this to my friend, her main interest was in the tea towel. "Was he covering his junk, or just being an asshole?"
"He was both covering his junk and being an asshole," I said. "But not, alas, successfully covering his asshole."