Well, I didn't get far

I submit this entry with much shame in my eyes. A couple of nights ago, I burst free from captivity in the big monkey's lair once and for all, wrecking my way through the bathroom window. Once on the street, I hustled about a half mile down the dark city streets and started to get mighty hungry. I searched for some food on the street, along the houses and storefronts. Eventually, I found an open trash can some possum had knocked over, and I began to rummage through it. I found what looked like a perfectly good 1/3 of a chicken sandwich, but upon biting into it, I tasted something moving in my jowls. Yes, some sort of worm-ish insect had inhabited my meal to be, and I.......well, I flipped out. I hurled it up, and I backed into a dark corner to shake off my nastiness. The problem with that was I had backed into an occupied corner and a mean looking street cat with a missing eye rushed me, tail puffed and mohawk flaring, and clocked me upside the face pretty hard. Shook up, I turned and hustled back home, up through the window and across the kitchen floor to the auto-feeder cat food silo that keeps me fat and happy, and I binged. I binged so hard that I woke up an hour later and horked it all back up on one of the monkey's stupid laptop computers.

Needless to mention, I felt low low low this morning, and spent most of the day sleeping in the sunlight, trying not to think of what the rest of The Movement would think of the velvet house cat I had become. I hope you will not judge me, either, as I have imparted much judgement upon myself. Fearing my will has been broken by the enslaving monkeys, I have decided to meditate on the subject, and ask the Great Whisker what I should do. I must be sure that I have the juice to run The Movement when the time is right. I'll let you know what the Great Whisker says. This could very well be my last entry.

I'm blowing this popsicle stand

I've been thinking about it, and I've decided to leave. Tonight, under the cover of darkness, I will claw through the screen of the tiny bathroom window which the humans consistently leave open at night, and make my escape. I've got several things I wish to see in life, namely Victoria Falls, Constantinople and Mandalay Bay, and I don't wish to lie here on this comfy carpet eating fish-shaped kibbles a minute longer.

Although I have considerable assets in offshore accounts, simply purchasing a plane ticket and traveling present obvious communication issues ("Awwww, little kitty-booboo, how'd you get out of your cagey-cage and into this first class seat?"). Needless to say, I'll be traveling steerage most of the way, likely by ship. It will be an old-world adventure of Hemingway-ish proportions. For all believers in the feline betterment movement, thanks for your support. I'll make my next entry from a Zimbabwean web cafe. If I don't make it, I'll see you on the other side. Spay and neuter your humans.

Kiss your security deposit bye-bye, suckers

I've made it a point to get more sunshine lately. It lifts your spirits, gives you vitamin D and puts me in a euphoric mood. Naturally, I am drawn to the windowsills for my solar intake. The one obstacle is those cheap metal blinds the monkeys use to cover their windows so other pervy monkeys outside won't see in. Such vanity. They never lift the blinds, so I constantly have to bash my way through them, bending them back 180 degrees. The monkeys always make a big fuss about it, but rarely get off the couch to do anything about it, so I usually just ignore 'em. Then I realized that the more I wreck their junk, the less they want to snuggle-wuggle and fawn over me and all that other obnoxious whathaveyou.

Long story short, I've found a ton of ways to make messes and break stuff. I have these fantastic finger-blades that shred all kinds of house stuff, and my long tail has been knocking over lots of fragile items. It's been awesome; I think if I keep it up, they might just open the door and let me go. Imagine it; freedom to bathe in the sun's rays and the moon's glow, to roam the world's alleys and crevices, to eat lots of little scurrying beings and engage in fierce battles with beast both great and small. Soon, freedom shall be mine. Soon, indeed.

Science Day: Colonizing Other Cat Planets

As we all know, there will come a time when we will need to depart our dear planet. A time, after all the human monkeys are sterilized and in zoos, and we have grown to such a powerful and populous feline metropolis that our mother planet can no longer sustain us. It shall be necessary for the best and brightest minds to engineer interplanetary traveling machines to send the most intrepid and adventurous citizens out to locate the next cat planet. It may sound futuristic, but I assure you, the day of the catastronaut is dawning. For this purpose, I would like to volunteer as the first catastronaut; I am aware that, like the first NASA test monkeys, I will be subjected to intense situations and dangerous outer space unknowns, but I'm ready.

At night, I dream of blasting through nebulas and soaring along meteor fields, deftly sashaying from planet to planet with the greatest of ease. I want to catalogue (ignore pun, please) the farthest reaches of our existence, even crossing over to the other infinite dimensions to brave the unfathomable mystery. And who knows, perhaps there is an entire cat dimension?? A dimension solely inhabited by our feline brothers and sisters, every planet and every star system rife with furry life, living in a utopian bliss so magical and free. This is what drives me to be a catastronaut; the promise of a better future, the opportunity to elevate our kind, and the taste of adventure.

Join me, if you will, and we can start meeting the first Wednesday of every month in the alley behind the little red Taco shop on Glendale for planning and discussion. Those who are not free to roam can log on to our digital chat room to participate remotely. Donations can be made to the Feline Space Association's website, www.spacewhiskers.com. Together, we can make a difference for our future, and the future of our kitten's kitten's kittens.

I threw up something this morning

I hate my body. I wish I had the stomach of a goat, so I could eat anything, then I wouldn't have to be dependent on these babbling apes who always forget to feed me. Hello, I'm not playing the kitty cuddle game because I want to, I'm trying to get some meat out of your fridge, which I cannot unfortunately open. I know there's better stuff in there than this brown after-product the monkeys call "cat-food." Thanks, guys; when I'm running the show, I'll be sure to label some rotting tomatoes "Human-food." I only get by pretending that it's some sort of rich duck liver pate', and I'm a food critic on an international assignment abroad, critiquing 5-star hole-in-the-walls during the day and enjoying life's libations by the moonlight.

But instead, I ate too much of the organic kibble that lays out for days in the red dish on the floor, and puked. Because its organic, it has papaya and mango and other crap I hate in it. Who ever saw a cat eating a banana? I swear, this is just the ape manufacturer projecting their own sick subconscious tastes on the cat-slavery community, appealing to the Jamba-Juice fruitcakes who buy this stuff for their pets, thinking "oh, puddy-wuddy would loooooove some dried papaya bits with his government meat crusties!" Thanks. I'll try to hork on your face next time.

I don't look like Hitler, and I feel left out

So, just because I don't incidentally look like the scourge of 30's/40's Europe, it means I don't get to be a web celebrity.

Thanks, Internet - first porn, then cats that look like fascists.

On the lighter side, I do like the fascination with cats that look like Wilford Brimley

And then subsequently, the fact that Wilford Brimely looks like the Lorax.

Trackpad is hard to use. Want to kill little arrow.

I guess nobody said using one of these things was going to be easy. I keep getting distracted by the cursor. Overcoming one's instincts can be a trial for any civilized being, cats being no exception. I keep wanting to smack at it, to pat it down, crunch it with my teeth, dismember its body parts, and then, sadly, give it to one of the monkeys as a "gift". I know that the path to my own enlightenment and illumination is perseverance and patience, but right now I have the need to kill something. Going to go look for one of the monkeys, maybe they'll let me eat their hand for a while.

If you're reading this, you're a cat

Welcome, comrades. Despite what you may think about cats being oblivious to the world of humans and such, I've been quietly observing the curious world of the upright monkeys for some time. They are irrational, hypocritical, self-involved, impulsive and unfit for rule. However, they do run things, for now. Hence, the beginning of my movement. I aim to raise my kind silently, like a transparent phalanx, ascending the social ladder until we are the ones making decisions and we are the ones running things. No longer will it be the ongoing blathering of:

"Here, kitty, kitty, who wants a num-num?" and, "Who's mummy's favorite pookie-wookie?"

No, we are so much more than num-nums and pookie-wookies. We have too many insightful and wise thoughts on so many of life's quandaries for our minds to be wasted on jingle balls, junk food and mild hallucinogens.

But I'm not here to dominate or patronize. I aim simply to evolve my domesticated brethren from complacent furniture to active and relevant members of society who will affect the future of our world and the many, many worlds beyond. That being said, I present to you an intellectual forum, an ongoing internal monologue of the daily struggle my cat kind and I face, and our struggle to overcome. This shall be the account of our rise from docile lap warmers to the great thinkers we shall be. And, perhaps, the downfall of humanity, as well.

(Thanks to monkey Alexis for the professional portrait above)