Daily Batman: Wild cats

Screw you, Thursday

Thursday actually is my least favorite day of the week, and has been since I was a kid.

I also don’t like the month of November and I hate the numbers eleven and five — especially five. It’s so stupid and five-y. Five, your shit is tired. It’s so smug. Five is a smug number.

The origins of these strong negative associations are lost to me, maybe some kind of childhood thing that is now shrouded in mystery. In any case: Thursday. I hate how it even looks. Screw you, Thursday.

Daily Batman: Catmobile edition

You’re gonna fly away,
Glad you’re going my way
I love it when we’re cruising together.

Cesar Romero and Eartha Kitt get their motors runnin’.

In a kitteh-beetle.

Perfectly normal, perfectly healthy.

Daily Batman: Offer no angles to the wind

Advice, Msgr. Tessimond edition.

Take flight and offer no angles to the wind. Escape this earth and its loopholes and pushy windmakers.

Illustration by Tony Parker.

Cats, no less liquid than their shadows, offer no angles to the wind. They slip, diminished, neat, through loopholes less than themselves.
— A. S. J. Tessimond

Daily Batman: Wild cats

illustration by Jock via the LCS.

Liberated Negative Space o’ the Day: Beware of the Dog edition

Like, sometimes I think he thinks he is being funny, but it’s just hurtful.

I often call a warning out to someone about to pet my nameless cat: “Look out!” Almost always they say, “Why?” or “How come?” Um, why do you think, you silly upbeat moron? “Look out! — he’s drunk?” or “Look out! — he hits on babies?” Perhaps, “Look out — he likes to dance but he’s a horrible dipper!”

What the hell do you think, “look out” for? He attacks people.

He is a biter with no name who brooks no petting and will dig his claws into your arm and give tearing off your hand his all, purring to beat the band the entire time. I’ve had him eleven years and I theorize that he purrs loudest when he is “getting” someone because it turns him on to defy expectations and fight the Man.

I love my cat. When he dies it is going to fucking destroy me. I’m so weak for loving a cat. But I do. That little guy is my soulmate.

Pussy Magnet: Claudia Schiffer edition

Claudia Schiffer photographed by Mario Testino for German Vogue (June, 2008).

I used to feel about cats the way I felt about women: sleek and beautiful but still slick, self-obsessed, and demented: too much like me and therefore untrustworthy. I’m working on my biases against both.

This is the same shoot that unbelievable topless Catwoman picture came from. I love it! Mario Testino is a genius and Claudia Schiffer makes the perfect living Vargas girl. Gorgeous.