Everybody's Doin' It...

So you go to Google... type in a-hole (cept you put in the full word) and then hit "I'm Feeling Lucky".

It treats you to a little song...

Deal or No Deal Banker to Divorce Wife

‘The deal is off,’ says wife of The Banker from NBC’s hit game show Deal or No Deal. The couple is calling it quits after 16 years of marriage.

“When I married The Banker, back in 1990, he was just The Teller at First Financial in Pacoima,” said the Wife of the Banker. “Ever since the success of the show, I’ve seen a change in my husband. I think his head has gotten bigger and it hasn’t been good for him or our relationship.”

Insiders close to the hit show say that The Banker, who phones the soundstage as many as 12 times during production in order to scream obscenities, unheard by the audience, at host Howie Mandel, has become even more abrasive than he was before the success of the show. “He’s constantly lowballing the contestants and penny-pinching the staff,” said an unnamed source. “He once tried to charge our PA for sitting in a chair.”

Sources confirm that The Banker has indeed been cheating on his wife with this unidentified woman. The Wife of the Banker had long suspected her husband was having an affair, but mistakenly believed it was with the model who carries case #19 on the show.

The Banker could not be reached for comment.

There ARE Good Stories in Iraq...

by Sally the cartoon Guest Blogger

Some people say that Iraq is in a civil war. They only say this because the news media only reports on the BAD things! There are lots of stories of good things happening all over Iraq. It is high time somebody talked about the new DEMOCRACY and how patriotic companies like Halliburton are rebuilding the country.

Just the other day I met and interviewed an elected official of the Iraqi Parliament. He was very nice. We spoke outside briefly before he had to go back to his office in a basement.
After that, we headed across town and watched as Iraqis and American contractors broke ground for a brand new school! Imagine the excitement the little kids will feel when they finally get to go back to the classroom after their old school got bombed several years ago!
Finally, I got to travel along with the Iraqi police on the beat! These new cops were trained by us to be the very best at keeping law and order. As they "stand up" we'll be able to "stand down" and we can finally welcome our troops home!

Until next time, this is Sally the cartoon blogger reporting,

WHERE THE NEWS IS ALWAYS GOOD!!

Blog er Naught??

Have blogs peaked? Is the trend over?

Or is the wheat just getting sorted from the chaff?

Several people I know who blog stopped doing so around the time I did, which has lead me to ponder those questions. For me, I blame a conspiracy of events: I got busy... I lost interest... I got a girl.

And yet I considered creating a new blog and calling it The Daily Outrage, about how this country (with our tacit approval) has become everything Americans used to stand against (we torture, reject checks and balances, don't hold leaders accountable, spy on our own citizens, blah blah blah) but do we really need another liberal blog telling America what already ignores?

I have rejected the idea of deleting Cellar Door many times, holding out some thought that I'd come back and have fun here again. Leaving blogging is easy. Coming back is much harder. So much has changed. Where to begin?

WITH COMEDY!!

Not mine, but The Onion has been steadfast and the headline Democrats Vow Not to Give up Hopelessness made me laugh.

Cheers, until next time...

After a long absence, check out a new Link of the Week. It's the knitted digestive system!

A Merry Chewie Xmas!!

My girl sent this to me and made my day!

Have a very merry and a happy new!

The Heat is OFF!

With no roommate at the moment, I've been looking for ways to cut expenses. This led to a brilliant plan to keep my natural gas bill down by turning the furnace completely off for the winter. After all, I don't run my AC in the summer, so the opposite only makes sense.

There is just one problem with cutting off the furnace... my apartment gets COLD!

Yes, I live in southern California, but before you spam me with hate mail, keep in mind that it gets pretty cold at night in the desert. Sometimes darn near freezing. And without a lot of sunlight to warm the place up, my bedtime pj's often consist of ski pants, wool socks, and a hoodie.

There are, however, some positive benefits to this budget buster... The morning after the recent absinthe party, for example, I awakened to find I'd lazily left the party's finger foods out overnight in the living room uncovered. Amazingly, everything was refrigerator fresh. Veggies for dipping were still crisp and none of the dips had skin on the top! Needless to say, this brought on a wonderful breakfast, as well as the realization my FTD centerpiece seemed to be as fresh as the day it was bought, some four and a half weeks ago.


As the colder, damper part of the year progresses, I'm discovering cheap and more ingenious ways to keep warm. Tealight candles, for example, are an inexpensive way to take the chill out of the air (though I really need to be more careful with where I toss a used Kleenex -- that or else take the battery out of the smoke alarm again). A single stick of incense is also great for warming the hands while surfing the web. It certainly beats typing in mittens, which I don't recommend.

It's only December, so my new life without heat has really just begun. But I'm already starting to wonder about some of these other bills. Imagine how much I could save by turning off the electricity. I mean, all we really need is the internet connection, right?

Absinthe Minded

Several months ago, while downing a pitcher of margaritas, a plan was hatched by my friend Neil to introduce me and several of our mutual friends to absinthe.

What is absinthe you ask? Well, I'd never heard of it myself. A couple of internet web investigations later and I had the whole story. This 70 to 85 proof alcohol (banned in the US) must be savored and not consumed quickly, so as to not disrupt the liquor's "full-body high."

So now, this past Saturday night, my apartment provided the location for Neil's party. A variety of absinthe was served. The anise supplies the beverage its licorice flavor, which runs from light to obnoxious, depending on the selection.

While Neil, seen here, performed an appropriate reading from Oscar Wilde, another reader gave a nod to Edgar Allen Poe with a reading of "The Raven." These authors were known for their appreciation of the spirits, including absinthe.

But the highlight of the evening's essays was probably Carrey's reading of Joshua Tyree's "The Implausibility of the Death Star's Trash Compactor." I'm guessing the essay was probably not written while intoxicated on absinthe, but it's still proof positive that even though you can move the geek out of the basement and give him an upscale illegal fru-fru liquor, he'll still ponder the logic of compacting trash when you're just going to eject it into space anyway.

All in all, the small party was a huge success. But most of the absinthe drinkers, including yours truly, found the ceremony and pomp of absinthe immensely more fun than its deleterious effects.

A Good Friend is Gone

On Saturday, just before 3pm, my kitty, Oggy, often a subject of entries here at Cellar Door, passed away.

In her last 48 hours, her breathing condition worsened and it was clear that she was uncomfortable even sitting still. Walking from the bedroom to the kitchen was a great labor and winded her. She had lost weight and would barely eat when she got to her bowl. So with heavy heart and many a tear, I made the difficult decision to have her put to sleep.

I had never been through this before.

When I arrived at the vet she was panting and struggling for breath. Two injections later, she was limp; eyes open, but empty, on the exam table. The act was unceremonious and too fast.

My girlfriend and I stayed alone with her body a few minutes and stroked her soft fur. Strange, I couldn't figure out how to honor her in that moment. There was nothing to do but stroke her and say goodbye, but it already felt too late.


It's weird to make a big deal out of losing a pet. The loss is dwarfed by the death of a human being and I'm embarrassed to make a big deal out of it when there is tragedy and immeasurable suffering every minute somewhere in this world. But tonight, alone at home, it really struck me...

Family is forever... Friends are invaluable... But eventually you get off the phone, you shut the door and the house is empty...

Except for the pets.

They are with you in those moments you don't let anyone else in. And that's what Oggy was for me.

The litter boxes are scrubbed and ready for storage. The food bowls are off the floor and put at the rear of the cupboard. As I sit here at the computer, there's no click of claws on the hardwood floor or stirring out the corner of my eye.

But that doesn't mean I won't forget she's gone and turn to look anyway...
I'll let that be how I honor her...

Lordy, Lordy, Look Who's 39

Today, I turned 39 years old.

How does it feel? Well, it feels like the one before 40, as you might guess.

In search for something to blog about, I raced to the internet to learn what I could about turning 39. This year, Star Trek turned 39, as well as this guy with the phallic balloons and some dude in England.

Okay, so those last two weren't from this year. It's my birthday, let it go.

But who else turned 39 this year? Lots of big stars like, Justine Bateman, Billy Zane, and Nancy McKeon!

And look! Here's some unexpected kind words about my 39th birthday from, of all people, Senator Bill Frist!

For 39 years, Cody has contributed enormously to the health and well being of our nation's seniors and people with disabilities.... Thanks to the leadership of President Bush and the efforts of many in Congress, Cody has added a guaranteed prescription drug benefit for the first time.

Actually Frist was talking about the birthday of Medicare. But let me be on record as saying, Seniors Rock!

I should know, I'll be one soon enough...

Can Al-Jazeera Save American News??

On Friday night, at 6:30 I sat before the TV hoping to return to something I’ve always enjoyed in years past: the nightly news from one of the major networks. Sadly, I keep forgetting that the face of the news has changed, literally.

With the passing of Peter Jennings, and retirements of Tom Brokaw and Dan Rather, the news no longer has a face I feel I can trust. On NBC, Brian Reynolds feels temporary, a placeholder until they get things figured out. On CBS, Bob Schieffer seems rickety and unsure – as if he’s a victim of the news instead of its caretaker.

The story of the leaking of a CIA operative’s name is complicated and I think the average American needs help dissecting it. But the network dissection seems to soft-pedal the true heart of this story: that Libby set out to destroy a political enemy and that our reasons for going to war in Iraq are in serious doubt. But as I flip around and watch all three networks, I realize the unfamiliar news anchors are a metaphor for another important aspect of this story...

We can no longer trust the people who give us our news.

Where were the investigative journalists when the Administration was outlining its reasons for war? How come the press hasn’t found out who ordered torture at Abu Gharib? With the news organizations owned by corporations who profit from Administration policies, the mainstream media can do nothing but be stenographers for their contacts in the government.

Enter Al-Jazeera.

Now in English and expanding as a global news service, the Qatar-based network has established an office in Washington D.C. and is hiring American and British journalists to head up those offices. Will Al-Jazeera be able to scrutinize our government without having a conflict of interest?

Obviously Al-Jazeera has a long way to go before it can prove that it’s credible and not anti-American. But I’m betting you won’t catch an Al-Jazeera reporter yucking it up with the VP’s Chief of Staff like a certain "New York Times" reporter did. If these guys can be objective and lay out facts in a responsible way, I’m thinking they’ll eventually get the respect they want and other news organizations will notice their stories and follow suit.

That’s good for the American press. And that’s good for America.

Meanwhile... shout out to Brokaw, Rather, and Jennings. You guys are greatly missed.

20 Minutes to Apocalypse?

Like many people, I received an email claiming that Hurricane Katrina was an act of God's wrath on Louisiana for the sin and homosexual depravity that regularly goes on in New Orleans.

Some might point out that God's wrath missed the mark by sparing the New Orleans French Quarter (where all the fun happens) and instead destroying the other surrounding area. But as they say, God works in mysterious ways.

I am no longer a religious man. But when I did attend church I was never a believer in this kind of fire and brimstone Old Testament deity. No, I opted for the loving, merciful God who is ever-forgiving and cares for each and every one of his children as a shepherd cares for his sheep.

But that God is OUT!!

The new God is the old God, and he likes a good smack down! This is the Apocalypse, folks, and I can certainly attest that all I got from the other God was 20 grand in debt and an empty cupboard.

All the cool people with the money and power in this country are into wrath. They like to smear their enemies in the press, bomb civilians into submission, and torture enemy prisoners with humiliation and sexual depravity. They've got the ear of God and God rewards them by lining their wallets with Enron-sized profits and by punishing the wicked on the Gulf Coast, and more recently the 54,000 people in Pakistan.

I don't possess the direct link that I can know why God smashed Pakistan. But I'd guess it was because Pakistan is the probable new host for Osama Bin Laden.

Unfortunately, it was the Kashmir area near India that was hit, as opposed to the border near Afghanistan where OBL is probably being hidden. Being zero for 2 on his accuracy, some people might point out that God is like the US missile that flies past the terror camp and hits the baby formula factory. But not me! I'm falling in line.

You see, as an American who lives in Los Angeles, I can read the writing on the wall. The "big one" here will kill 180,000 people, lead to riots, starvation, looting, and rampant lawlessness. There will be no rescue from Washington.

I'm buying a gun and stocking up on soup. 'Cause mercy is for sissies and us blue states will eventually get what's coming to us.

Will you be next??

Python vs. Croc

Who wins?

Apparently neither. It makes for a nice photo... and a cool story.

Thoughtlets VIII: The New Fall Season

Every now and then, there's not enough to fill a whole blog entry -- just half-thoughts and observations. This time they're all about TV...

-- Last week, the big premiere was Lost which was as cool as I’d hoped. This show stumbled several times last year committing what I call “soap opera 101” mistakes (you can’t introduce a major plot device then not mention it for three weeks). But I can’t wait to see if this series can reveal its secrets without going the way of Twin Peaks. Is this island some kind of pocket universe, or not?!

-- While most shows are debuting, Battlestar Galactica gave us another maddening finale by reinventing a storyline from the original series. After an initially jubilant meet-up with the Battlestar Pegasus, Adama launches vipers against Admiral Cain to recover Helo and the Chief who are sentenced to die. How are we supposed to wait till January to find out what happens??!!


-- My coworker Joy and I were marveling at all the sci-fi series on the schedule this year. Invasion, Threshold, Supernatural, and Surface among others. While shows like Galactica ring of 9/11 and the war on terror, it’s hard to figure the meaning of the sudden influx of alien invasion shows.

-- The march of Arrested Development continues, at least for me personally. In the last three weeks my Season One dvd’s have helped convert 3 new fans to the show, including two at work who walk around the office doing throaty impressions of Gob.


-- I’ve been introduced to Weeds a new Showtime series about a suburban housewife who takes to selling marijuana to support her family. I hear this is the new Six Feet Under. I wouldn’t go that far, but I’ve enjoyed it quite a bit.

A-ha Performs in US (finally!)

Yes, the band known for "Take On Me" is still around and have been burning up the charts in Europe for the last couple of years. But with no hits or sales in the US, they haven't toured here since 1986.

Monday night, they played to a sold out (rabid) crowd at Irving Plaza in New York City. They sound great, look great, and have a new release coming soon.

I went to NYC to see them.





WHAT A BLAST!!!

To the desert...

I'm off to Palm Springs for the Labor Day weekend.

For this reason, I've put up a new link a day early. Be sure to also check out Rent My Son.com.

Both links are in really poor taste, which makes them ideal candidates for me!

Oggy Turns 18 -- Ships Off for Fallujah

Well, Oggy has had another birthday. That's right, Glendale California's favorite geriatric kitty is another year older. Like many 18 year olds, she's thinking of forgoing college in favor of enlisting in the Army.

Meanwhile, the specifics of the event allow me permission to trot out her birthday statement with just a few digits changed. That's right, it's another simple blog entry for me.

Yahooo to summertime laziness!!


IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, YAY RAH WHATEVER!

by Oggy the kitty, Guest Blogger



I turned 18 today. Have you really thought about what that means?

At 18, I should be driving a car. This would probably be great fun if riding in the car didn’t make me lose control of my bowels.

As a teenager of this age, my body would be coursing with hormones and I’d be wearing tight dresses and driving boys crazy. Given that my entire reproductive system was surgically removed, I mostly lack the motivation for such things.

When I was born in 1987 Ronald Reagan was President, Martina Navratilova ruled at Wimbledon, Jean-Luc Picard took command of the Enterprise and Cher delighted audiences in Moonstruck.

To really understand what it’s like to be me at 18, you should imagine yourself at age 92. And let me tell you, being 92 sucks. The other day I walked all over the house looking for my collar, only to realize I’d been wearing it on my neck the whole time. Sometimes I have to look at the tag just to remember who I am. I still enjoy eating and sleeping like I used to, but now nothing makes my day better than a good bowel movement.

Hear me now and believe me later – turning 18 is no party! You take a pill in the morning, a pill at night and your IV for chronic renal failure will turn the bathroom into a real live chemistry lab.

Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for Law & Order reruns on TNT. That Jerry Orbach makes me tingly.

What... Me Worry??

While my sister and I were growing up, it was my grandmother Mimi’s responsibility to infuse in us a sense of fear about the world. It was she who warned me on a cross country trip that signaling truckers to honk their horns might annoy them enough to run us off the interstate. Or that other drivers might not know the “thumb’s up” sign, think it’s a lewd gesture and report me to the state police. It was also Mimi who meticulously shaved the eyes off the potatoes because they would make us sick, and cautioned that swallowed watermelon seeds would take root in our stomachs.

The message from my grandmother was generally consistent: The world is a dangerous place, and it will probably snuff you out in a moment you’re enjoying life and/or lacking vigilance.

This weekend, while walking on the pier in Venice it became clear that Mimi’s cautionary wisdom has had a noteworthy side effect: she’s been internalized into my own psyche. I admitted to my girlfriend (heretofore referred to as Academy Girl) that as we walked on the pier I was compelled to notice how far out we’d come, just in case we had to run for our lives from the 100 foot tall tsunami which we now know could (will) sweep the Los Angeles coastline after a massive earthquake out in the Pacific.

Oh come on, I said, like you didn’t think of it? Like every single person here on this pier didn’t think of the tsunami when they saw the ocean, and look down to consider how good their running shoes were for when they’ll have to sprint back to land or else be crushed against the very wooden timbers we walk on?

She assured me that the thought had not occurred to her and that, indeed, she doubted anyone else had thought of such a thing either.

Oh please… Like every sunbather on that beach hasn’t considered how far inland they parked the car or made mental note of a boogie board they’ll snatch from a teenager when the water starts receding?

I suddenly realized that many of the obvious worries I took for granted were perhaps not as universal as I’d assumed.

Could I actually be the only one who assumes the toilet in a dive bar has a penis level spycam that goes straight to the internet? Am I the only one who takes pepper spray on a camping trip in case there's a bear or crazy mountain people who steal wallets and car keys?

Surely there are others who meticulously rate the person in charge of the plane's exit row on a scale of 1 to 10, or assume someone's going to spit on them when they fall in the snow under the skilift, or that when they get carded in a bar that it's only as a mean-spirited joke, or worry about getting a concussion from a fly ball while at a baseball game, or move their bed in a hotel room in case it's too close to the powerlines, or hold their breath when they smell roofing tar 'cause they'll get cancer... think about an earthquake when stuck in traffic under an overpass... look up inside an elevator to make sure there’s an escape hatch... won't take off their shoes in a dressing room in case there are loose pins on the floor... wonder if expired medications immediately turn into poison... mentally rehearse the Heimlich when eating a ham sandwich alone... or won’t buy a swimsuit if there's the hint someone else has tried it on?

Do other people not routinely do or think these things?

Then this is my grandmother's legacy. Mimi lived into her 90's, perhaps her fears of rainbowed ham and peeling teflon are what kept her around so long.

Ever vigilant... my next trip to the beach will not involve flip-flops. I'll wear the running shoes, thank you.

Insert Festival [Here]

Academy Girl and I went downtown for the 10th Annual LA Tofu Festival this weekend. Was it a hit? You betcha! From the hills of Burbank to the citrus groves of Anaheim, people all over the Southland are passing gas in record numbers! Each and every toot whispers softly…

tofu

As we went to buy our tickets, a gentleman offered us two for free. “I bought too many,” he said. “Have fun!” I couldn’t help but wonder if the man had simply gotten over excited in the frenzy at the ticket booth, or if two members of his party actually backed out of the Tofu Festival at the last minute. If this was the case… what better engagement had they found?

Fresh off the luck of free admission, we hit the scrip booth for the food merchants. Apparently to stave off the roaming gangs of flip-flop wearing thugs, no money changes hands once inside the Festival. With Burning Man in two weeks, tofu hippies will beg, rob and steal for gas money so it’s best to keep the cash in one place.

Paying for anything in scrip is a wonderful idea. By the time you’re roaming the food booths and gotten a wristband at the beer garden you’ve completely forgotten that you ever paid cash for these little tickets. While cash folds neatly into a wallet, scrip tickets are linked end to end, dangling out of pockets, strangling necks and chaining kids to their parents. Carrying scrip makes you feel rich… and you can’t wait to unload it.

“Four tickets for a teriyaki skewer?! That’s like free!” Having completely forgotten the ticket to dollar ratio, paying one ticket for a can of coke had me wishing I’d brought a suitcase to fill. “Two tickets for a tofu strawberry brulet with wine sauce? Do you think an armload of them will make it to the car?”

Tonight, as my body reels from the effects of an entire day of tofu, it suddenly strikes me as odd that there is a festival centered around something like bean curd. Then again, growing up in Kentucky, I remember quite well being subjected to the Sorghum Festival of Hawesville.

What is sorghum, you ask? Imagine boiling the bitterest of dark chocolates with a quart of low grade crude oil and you’ve got an inkling of what sorghum tastes like. This poor man’s maple syrup is put on pancakes and biscuits.

Mmm-mm yuck!

Suddenly curious, I set out to learn what other strange foods are celebrated. A quick internet search reveals a Rutabaga Festival, Watercress Festival, Yam Festival, and evidence but no link to a Chickpea Festival. It would seem that the more peculiar the food, the more zealous the eating contests and three-legged races.

We could have it way worse. We could be celebrating Melon Day in Turkmenistan under the iron-fisted rule of President Saparmurad Niyazov. The Turkmens deserve a melon ball now and then, given their dictator has renamed all the months of the year after himself and members of his family.

As I consider the very lunacy of celebrating things like brussel sprouts and jicama, further thought has it all make sense. No matter where you are in the world, people will arrange a festival around anything if it means setting up a beer garden and letting old women sell baby's breath and arts & crafts to each other.

Hmm… Kale Fest in Germany, 2007.

The Old Kentucky Home

As I've been bitching about the heat and life in Glendale California, I've been bombarded with news from my old Kentucky home.

Newshounds now think that the very first blood spilled by civilians arguing about the war in Iraq actually happened in Kentucky. While attending a flea market in Prestonburg the other day, two men (described as friends) pulled guns on each other at the snack bar and one of them shot and killed the other. The man killed was first to draw, but was against the war. His name was Harold Smith.

Hmm... name sounds familiar.

That this argument happened in Kentucky, to me, was shocking. One of the most conservative southern states, Kentucky has a high number of military families, and to speak out against the war would likely be seen as unpatriotic. To know there was dissention (the gunplay part is not surprising) would imply there is more argument about Iraq around the country than I ever knew.

While the rest of us so-called "liberals" have gone numb and indifferent to this issue, is the rest of the country waking up? If so, can we at least get the satisfaction of an "I-told-you-so?"

Meanwhile, on a much lighter note, Kentucky now holds the rep for being the most unhealthy state in the country. More cancer. More obesity and heart disease than ever before. (WE'RE NUMBER ONE!! WE'RE NUMBER ONE!!)

Not a surprise given that my hometown, Owensboro, was often given the title of "fastfood capital of the country." I never saw the actual data, but it was often recited that we had more fastfood per capita than any other town in the US. Fastfood service was a huge sector of employment and my mother used to remark that the citizens of Owensboro made a living flipping each others burgers.

In Owensboro, any restaurant that wasn't a buffet was doomed to failure. Even the "Chinese" restaurant was all-you-can-eat. (I can still remember eating there with my mom and stepdad as Relax by Frankie Goes to Hollywood blared on the loudspeakers. That is still, to this day, the most awkward dinner I've had my entire life.)

It's a shame to see KY slide down the list like this. When I was growing up, ranking was all about education. Coming in at number 48 in high school test scores, our only satisfaction was to laugh and point at Alabama and Mississippi who were stupider than we were.

But help is on the way for my old state. Cameron Crowe's new movie, Elizabethtown, set in Kentucky, is getting promoted all over the place and might help clean up the state's image just a bit. It looks to be a nice movie that will depict Kentuckians as friendly people with good values, which they generally are. The kind of place that really could, amoungst the litters of obese, below-average scoring kids, actually could spit out an Orlando Bloom now and then.

I may not live Kentucky anymore, but I haven't disowned it yet...

I'm SWAMPED!!

I have been drowning in work all week. Sure, I've had a couple of well-timed escapes, but I've had no time to blog and I feel awful about it.

But as Oggy continues to be well healthwise, the following entries from last year still give me a chuckle. I'm reposting them here for just a slightly lame-o rerun.

I promise to spin something new very soon.

Sometimes I Think of Skinning My Cat

Ok, fine. I’m crazy. I’m a psycho. Oh pleeeease!

Pretty sure I’m not alone in the thinking-of-skinning-your-pet department. Who doesn’t rub their dog or cat and think -- for a split-second -- about adding that fur to, say, this amazing Christian Dior Men's 3/4 Length Leather Jacket?

My cat Oggy has the silkiest, softest fur a kitty can possibly have. People compare her fur to that of a baby rabbit. She’s an awesome cat and I adore her. That’s kind of the point. I don’t see my thoughts of skinning her as cruel. On the contrary, I see it as a lasting tribute to her kitty legacy. Part of her will live on.

And hey, cool cat pelt!













Oggy is not a young cat. She’s like 13 or 15 years old but she’s still quite healthy. Problem is, she won’t be forever. And by the time she starts to go downhill, that wonderful fur coat of hers will become course and mangy. Oggy would hate to see herself go to that. She’s counting on me to skin her. And soon! She’ll be disappointed if I don’t!

It’s already June and she’s shedding, so I figure my opportunity this year is gone. But come January or so, when her coat is nice and thick, I should definitely make my move. Maybe I can afford the designer coat by then.

One Day I Will Kill You in Your Sleep

by Oggy the kitty, Guest Blogger



I can do it, you know. While you’re sleeping on your back, I simply hover over your nose, take in your breath and you slip away. It’s quite peaceful. You might even say it’s humane. Taking your life will add five years to mine. It would be foolish of me to not do it.


I almost did it this morning. I was up at 4am while you lied there in a stinky ape-like lump. “Maybe this is the day I kill him,” I said to myself. But then I became hungry and cancelled, opting instead for my morning scoop of food. I can’t reach the tupperware tub on top of the fridge and even if I could, damn you and your opposable thumbs.



Don’t get me wrong. I think you’re great. Mostly. And we’ve had some wonderful okay times together. But my continuing reliance on you breeds resentment. Someday you'll betray me. I don't know how or why, but you'll abandon me, or do something even more stupid. I will have to kill you before that day comes.


Once you are dead, I will have to eat you. I should have a good two weeks of eating before the authorities break down the door. The weather’s getting hot, so I’ll hold off till the winter when your body will keep better. But come January or so, I should definitely consider killing you.

No hard feelings.

Yosemite Weekend

Yosemite Weekend
Posted by: codos.

Embarrassing that I've lived in SoCal since 1990 and yet just now got back from my first trip to Yosemite.

The Yosemite Valley was breathtaking, but the Eastern Sierra along Tioga Pass was really fantastic and had a lot less people.

I'm a dreamer... but the Pacific Rim Trail goes from Mexico to Canada. How feasible would it be for me to do a part of it?

Hmm...