Sarah Palin, Rogue Pit Bull

October 31, 2008

By Adele

Sarah Palin’s got one last weekend to savor the fantasy she has a snowball’s chance in hell of becoming vice president. Stubborn John McCain had to learn the hard way what every cat knows: pal around with pit bulls, you get bit. Did he really expect Palin to go all mavericky on everybody but him?

Showing just how loyal she is – not – to the ticket, Palin’s been flitting around mouthing off about McCain’s mistakes (robocalls, giving up on Michigan) and undercutting him on abortion and gay marriage.

McCain’s staffers are calling Palin the “rogue diva.”

DUH! Since when has Palin been anything else? And she’s a dumb diva. A dishonestly destitute diva, devoted to scavenging handouts for her constituents and her whole family wherever she can find them.

Since McCain took her off the tundra, dressed her up, and showed her the high life in the lower 48, she can’t get enough of it, even after Charlie Gibson and Katie Couric laid her ignorance bare and Tina Fey has made her a cartoon – by accurately quoting her. And she probably thinks she “won” that so-called “debate,” where Joe Biden politely stood there watching her wink and smirk and recite memorized fluff.

Now she goes around claiming the New York Times provides her with all the misinformation she insists on repeating about Obama.

Palin undoubtedly thinks she’s ready for prime time, maybe even president in 2012.

“Gee, so many people love me when I don’t know diddly-squat and I’m joined at the hip to Uncle Fester. I’ll really be able to wow ‘em with some time to rehearse my act!”

McCain shouldn’t be surprised to find himself under the tires of the Straight Talk Express after throwing himself there.

Palin’s only loyalty is to her unjustified ambition. If McCain has made one fatal mistake, it was to give this conniving ditz a national stage. She’s walking proof that the Republicans have learned nothing from the past 8 years.

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Another Bourdain Encounter Leaks Out of Manila

October 29, 2008

By Karen

Cats Working has cultivated a new friend in the Philippines who graciously sent an “anonymous” tip on a new blog post about Bourdain’s activities filming a new episode of No Reservations.

I usually don’t cop out by providing nothing but a link to someone else’s blog, but I’m afraid to say too much and incur the wrath of Big Brother. Filipinos are obviously delighted to have Tony in their midst and I think their excitement deserves to be spread around.

I just checked again, and the post and photos were still out there, so read it for yourself – before it disappears.


Big Brown on Curlin: “One of us had to lose.”

October 27, 2008

By Fred

I was honored to be the first cat to interview Big Brown. He spoke to me by phone from an undisclosed location where he’s recovering from an accidental self-inflicted wound he sustained on his right front foot during a workout. He was forced into early retirement, missing the climactic race of his life – the $5 million Breeders’ Cup Classic at Santa Anita on October 25 – his matchup with 2007 Horse of the Year, Curlin.

Fred: Brownie, you’ve dropped out of sight. Your fans want to know how you’re doing.

Big Brown: I’ve never been better, Fred. I’m hanging out at the stable surrounded by big baskets from fans of apples, carrots, and lump sugar. I even smoke an occasional cigar since I’m not in training anymore.

F: Did you watch Curlin’s race, the Breeders’ Cup Classic?

BB: You call that a race? I could have outrun Curlin wearing loose shoes and one hoof tied behind my back. What a prima donna! He let artificial turf throw him so that Brit, Raven’s Pass, could beat him. He even let old Tiago get by. That never happened in any of my races.

And what was that braided mane all about? If Rick Dutrow had tried to tart me up like that before the Derby, I’d have kicked him into next Tuesday.

F: Speaking of your humans, did you hear your owner, Michael Iavarone, talking about the death threat he claims he got before the Belmont if anything happened to you?

BB: I think that guy will say anything for some ink. He must have been threatened by The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight. I was a train wreck in the Belmont. What horse walks across the finish line? But Iavarone’s still in one piece, so what happened to that so-called threat? Why didn’t he go to the police?

F: I also heard that PETA wants Iavarone to take a pass on your $50 million stud deal and have you castrated so future generations of thoroughbreds won’t inherit your foot problems.

BB: Easy for PETA to say. I’m being put out to pasture while I’m still in my prime. What the hell am I supposed to do for the rest of my life if they don’t let me have some fun with the fillies? Take up knitting and Sudoku?

F: You’re a superstar. Even with a big name like Curlin, the Breeders’ Cup seemed a little flat without you.

BB: Thanks, kid. I am going to miss that adrenaline rush, the crowd cheering me on, and those blankets of flowers. But Smarty Jones tells me life’s good at Three Chimneys. I’ll miss my jockey Kent Desormeaux, but not Ricky the Needle. Around the stables, that’s what we horses nicknamed that dirt bag, Dutrow. He gave me a steroid habit, then made me quit cold-turkey right before my Triple Crown shot in the Belmont. I’m thrilled that some states are finally outlawing steroids, but I still pity Dutrow’s next protégée.

F: Do you think Curlin was relieved that you skipped the Breeders’ so you weren’t there to see him come in fourth, after all the hype?

BB: Personally, I’ve got nothing against Curlin. But the way the system works, one of us had to lose, and I’m glad it was him.


Bourdain’s Crew Play Big Brother

October 26, 2008

By Karen

I just honored a polite request to delete a previous post entitled “Bourdain’s Smoking in the Philippines” by the nephew of a restaurant owner who will apparently be featured in an upcoming episode of No Reservations. The nephew doesn’t want to inadvertently cause any problems for his uncle. He was asked by the NR production people to take down his own post and photos of Bourdain’s visit because they felt it pre-empted the content of the episode.

They apparently have no use for bloggers generating some free “advance buzz” on future episodes.

To explain the title of my original post, I don’t think I’m talking out of school to restate that it sprang from earlier reports I had read of Bourdain “allegedly” consuming beer and smoking, even though he says he quit smoking months ago. We’ve seen him play that scene many times before in many countries.

Cats Working has never had any indication that Bourdain is aware of this blog, but we’ve now felt the long arms of his peeps reaching out vicariously to muzzle us.

It’s a first, and I hope a last. Along with the rest of the market, Bourdain’s stock just dropped a few points with us.


This Halloween Treat Would Gag a Cat

October 25, 2008

By Yul

Some humans with grossly underdeveloped palates are turning cats’ most intimate “business” into a Halloween dessert. It’s called kitty litter cake, and it looks revolting enough to make Andrew Zimmern retch.

Cats Working together couldn't achieve this in a week (Photo - WikiHow)

Cats Working together couldn't achieve this in a week (Photo-WikiHow)

Let me set the record straight on this: No self-respecting cat would ever let a litterbox get to this advanced state of “use” without protest – probably through an artistically arranged “pile” in your clothes basket that wouldn’t be partially melted Tootsie Rolls, or perhaps a puddle of pee on your pillow.

Even Mark Mason, who regularly publishes the purloined writings of his cats Mars and Indy on Cat Diary, has embraced this feline culinary fetish.

The Web has many similar recipes. All the ingredients are edible, and they carefully specify use of a new litter pan and scoop, but the very thought of anyone eating a faux cat turd – particularly a dried-out one draped over the side of a box – makes even me a little queasy.

Going back to Cat Diary, what’s with those pathetic humans trying to look like cats? And here’s another one, a computer programmer named Dennis Avner who has tattooed himself from head to toe.

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery but, guys, your getups aren’t exactly an homage to the beauty of cats. If I weren’t fighting the urge to hurl from the cake, I’d be laughing.


Reality: Republicans’ Final Frontier

October 23, 2008

By Yul

Republicans are now fixating on who’s “real.” Sarah Palin recently told North Carolinians that certain parts of the country are more “American” than others. She meant small towns like Wasilla and wide-open spaces like the Alaskan tundra. Anywhere the inhabitants are sparse, live simply, and may be poorly educated.

It’s those evil city slickers with diplomas who read books and newspapers (and can name titles) and care about the world around them who aren’t “real” Americans.

They think too much and ask too many questions.

North Carolina’s Representative Robin Hayes, while campaigning for McCain, recently added that “liberals hate real Americans that work and achieve and believe in God.”

The McCain campaign has declared Northern Virginia “not real” because it leans Democratic. McCain’s brother Joe went so far as to jokingly call it “communist country.”

For a party that side-steps facts like the cast of River Dance – on the reasons for invading Iraq, stem cell research, healthcare, teen sex, evolution, global warming, Palin’s qualifications, you name it – their sudden zeal for real is truly bizarre.

Columnist Leonard Pitts asks, if they’re real, what does that make the rest of us? Fake?

Well, you can dress a Barbie Doll in a $150,000 wardrobe (Mrs. Joe Six-Pack should be so stylish) and program her to chirp platitudes when you pull her string, but that doesn’t make her a real choice for VP.

Palin still doesn’t even fully understand the job.

Unable to bring himself to play the court jester for his party (again), Colin Powell has endorsed Barack Obama. I guess that makes Powell fake, too.


Still Undecided? Then Let Cats Vote!

October 22, 2008

By Fred

Some voters must be waiting for Barack Obama or John McCain to levitate or cast a spell over them to help them make up their addled minds. These two men couldn’t be more different in temperament, style, and ideas, yet polls by Gallup, Hotline, and Rasmussen show 5-12% of voters are still undecided.

Could it be that, after devoting entire forests of trees and rivers of ink to recording and analyzing the candidates’ every word, gesture, and facial expression for nearly 2 years, the media hasn’t yet revealed enough to make a decision? Had 60 Minutes aired Dan Rather’s special in-depth investigation of how each candidate organizes his sock drawer, might that have done the trick?

I think undecideds simply crave attention. Their faux confusion gets them invitations to attend the debates and join focus groups. Reporters clamor to capture their quotable nuggets of doubt so they can make the candidates lose sleep wondering what else they might do to win the wafflers.

Who cares? We’ve reached the point where undecided voters should be barred from casting their feckless ballots. This election is too important. Rather, let’s study the feasibility of shipping them to another planet because their witless existence wastes precious resources on Mother Earth.

Cats have been watching this campaign from the beginning and our minds are made up. Let us have the undecideds’ votes. We’ll see that America doesn’t fall prey to an out-of-touch geezer who pals around with a blood-thirsty former beauty queen who would shoot and eat us and turn our pelts into throw rugs, given half a chance.

Cats for Obama!


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