Famous Cats - Bobcat Goldthwait

In a new series, I've decided to celebrate the greats of catterdom, starting with my personal favorite (after the Great Whisker him/herself, of course), Bobcat Goldthwait. Not an actual bobcat, or cat, per say, but, still an honorable and joyous addition to the cat family and the planet earth.

Bobcat began doing stand up in the mid 80's, sharing a bill with Robin Williams, and had several initial cameos on small films like Tapeheads, (awesome) alongside John Cusack and Tim Robbins. I think the first time I ever saw him was in Police Academy 2, where he played the leader of a street gang, Zed (awesome). He later wrote, directed and starred in Shakes the Clown (awesome), and had his fingers in several other pies, including cameos in Twisted Sister and Nirvana videos. Frankly, I think his best work was on Scrooged, which I think might also be the best Christmas movie of all time. Seriously.

His most recent work was a reunion with Robin Williams in World's Greatest Dad, a dark comedy he wrote and directed, to critical favor. In this clip, you can see him getting what many may agree to be some just desserts for an artist who has gone through a delicate and lengthy maturation process, only to emerge as a refined and unique voice often overlooked for his lower-brow exploits (Police Academy 2 = still awesome, I don't care what anybody says). And yes, I am still talking about Bobcat Goldthwait.

New Year's Resolution: Reproduce/Clone/Bone Myself

Right, right, I know, it's impossible or something, you say, 'how can you reproduce yourself when your tools have been deactivated? How can you plant a seed when your daffodil has been mowed over?' Good points, all, good points, but check this out: if all those big monkeys can do it, so can I. Yep, I'm talking about reversing my gato-sectomy.

OK, so I know the plumbing is a little different, and I now that a couple of KEY POINTS that are usually present in human vasectomies are not present in my system, but have faith. I happen to know that one of the other captive felines in my house still HAS HIS family jewels. SO, with careful planning and acute strategy, as well as some sharp knives, I can be a MAN-CAT again! I know it's a bit unethical to swipe another Tom-Cat's Tom-Tom's, but hey, this is war, this is the world we live in, we must be fast and we must be determined if we are to prevail. Inspiring, no? I thought so.

And even if my re-balling-plan doesn't work out for unforeseen genetic splicing issues or something, no problemo. Our government has legalized stem-cell research, and I totally plan to exploit my own plasma and juicy bits to make little versions of myself. I don't really understand the science, but it can't be that hard if a bunch of hairless apes can fumble some petri dishes together and come up with a human lung, right?

So, once I've cloned myself, I'll start altering my next series of clones into bigger and bad-ass-er versions of myself, until I engineer a giant freaking monster cat, 30 STORIES HIGH, and go smashing along the skyline, climb the recently opened Burj Dubai Tower - 1/2 mile high - and let loose a bone-crushing yowl that will reverberate the entire WORLD OVER, EXPLODING THE HEADS OF EVERY UPRIGHT MONKEY ON THE PLANET!!

Then, I'll reverse some of the XX's and Y's and make a girl version of myself.

And then do myself.

C'mon, everybody's wanted to do a girl version of themselves at some point, right? Right.

I Got Worms For Christmas

This is a common thing, right? I'm not the first dude to get this right? Surely others have had to deal with this, but I feel so alone. I don't know whether to go to the doctor or just go to WebMD and deal with it myself. I thought I was being careful, but you know, things get out of hand and you forget sometimes, or rather don't want to remember, and the next day BOOM - hit with a lower intestine parasite.

I know I shouldn't have been cleaning that other cat in the house with my tongue, but it just felt like the right thing to do at the time.....I'm such an idiot. Gosh this is embarrassing......

Look, I'm going to get it taken care of, alright? I know they have cures for this sort of thing nowadays, right? Ugh, why do I always end up here.....I feel like such a hypocrite. I feel like a statistic...

In other news, the little monkey put some white powder in my bowl with my food last night. Man, it gave me some narsty gas. I couldn't read what it said on the box, as human is really hard to understand, you know their vowels are all out of wack, but I did make out something like "Fast acting, one-time use, feline formula." Hmm.

Its Christmas, And The Monkeys Are At It Again

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So every year, when the sun gets a little shy and the sky cries white stuff and somebody leaves the giant fridge open for months at a time, the monkeys go nuts. They get real excited and start dressing the box all up in pieces of trees and junk, cooking stuff that smells like a Pillsbury commercial and listening to old music about some deer with a nasal infection.

What gives? I’ve been trying to figure this out for my many cat years on earth. What are they doing? Is this like church, once a year? Some parishioners, once a year, great job. And the trees, inside? Torture. First off, all the bugs and birds get shaken off the trees, then they bring them inside and cover them in a bunch of crap that has no use. Although sometimes I feel the urge to whack at and eat some of it. It’s satisfying, I can’t explain it.

I hope these monkeys aren’t using money on all this junk. If they are, somebody ought to suggest they use that money for something useful, like cat food, or heat. Seriously, I can see my breath all day. Not cool. Cold, actually. Maybe its a big monkey requirement, to bring all this junk inside, torture the cats with the fruits of escape, be cold indoors and sing songs about holly and jolly, whoever they are. I wouldn’t put it past ‘em.

The one thing they don’t realize is they set all these little tiny candles all over everything, ready to be utilized. Some are lit up right next to the trees! What a bunch of schmucks; with just a whip of my tail, I can send this house straight up in smoke on 45 seconds flat, smokin’ the monkeys out and sending me and my imprisoned compatriots to freedom-town.

And, all their junk gets burned, so I don’t have to deal with it while I set out to establish my kingdom. Suck it, you bunch of holly jolly cookie-munching Santa worshippers! The Great Whisker smites you down with a whack of his paw! The Revolution has begun!

Is This Gunk Safe?

OK, so I understand the prerogative to dose me and my brethren with flea killer so we don’t act as walking buffets to the parasites of the world. For once, the monkeys have a bit of an angle here. But, I don’t think they’ve ever used the stuff on themselves, because if they did, they’d know that it BURNS!! Yes, it burns like a mofo, and it smells like what one would assume the municipal sewer system in Hell would smell like.

So when you come around and pop that little cap open and reach out your hands for us, don’t be surprised if we resist. And make some racket. And let you know how we feel about the situation. Physically. Sorry for the scratches. Better put some cream on that, it’s gonna get infected.