Wednesday, September 30, 2009
In the intrist of offrin yu all “ALTER-NA-TIV” ideers about gods and the yooneevers an stuff, I is now goin to tell yu about anothr DEE-IT-EEE whu has speshul relayshunship wift kittee peeples. So if yu looks at yer glob, an yu goz up abuv Yoorup, yu wil see Skandanayveea. It has a buntcha cuntrees, lik Finlun, Sweedin, Norwae, an Denmark. An mebbe Icelund—I’m still not cleer on that. Now whut theez contreez shayr is a old beleef in theez Nors Godz. (They calls them Nors eevn tho onlee 1 countree calld Norwae. Dun’t asks me why.)
The onlee importint 1 of theez deeiteez is calld Freya. She is the goddis of luv, byootee, an fertilitee (which is about havin yer kidz). Parentlee, Freya is blonde an blu-eyd an byooteeful, jus lik mai mom. Altho mom’s hair isn’t as blonde as it yoozd to be, an also, how kin sombodee be byootiful if they hasn’t got mutch furr? She onlee has it on hed. Seem sillee to me. Huh. Of cors I thingk she pertee, but she mai mom. Is natchrul.
Aneewae, Wikerpeedier say that “Freyja often rides on a chariot drawn by a pair of large cats. She rode this chariot to Baldur's funeral. These cats are called Gib-cats in the Prose Edda. They are thought to be either Norwegian forest cats  or Lynx. Cats are sacred to Freyja, just as wolves are to Odin.” (“Freyja”). They doesn’t egsplayn whut a Gib is or whut the diffruns is between 49 Norweejun forist kittees an a singul Lynx.
Mom sez, “Wull, yu noe, it’s jus Wikerpeedier. Yu kin’t hav evrthin.”
An I ges shee’z rigt.
But I kin’t halp thingkin of me an mai Onkul Me2 pullin the sled of som goddis across the snow lik in them piktchurz… She had betterer not be mor than, say, 20 pounz. Yu noe, jus a littul goddis…
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Mom an me not hav tim to werk on mai blogs todae cuz mom was downtown all dae doin “Jooree Dootee,” which she sae is a verree seeryus thin an it halp our contree’s PART-ISS-IPAR-TOREE DEMAKRASEE to werk.
I sez, “It halp whut?”
An she sez, “It’s wher lotsa peeples (hoomins) gets together an mayk shur they hasn’t ben scratchin eetch othr’s furnitchur or faysis or mebbe steelin eetch othr’s mousees. An if they has, they gets in trubbul.”
“Oh!” sez I. “Is that innerestin?”
“Most of it is kinda borin, but fer one bit, a guy wayvd a layser pointr at som picktchurz on the wall. Yu wud hav likd that, Musashi.”
“Oh boy! Did yu chays it in sirkuls?”
“No,” sez Mom. “The judj wudn’t let us.”
“Whut’s a judj?”
Mom sez, “A judj is somebody whu mayks shur evrboddy do things the way the law says. She wears a big black robe an sits behind a big desk wift a big chayr.”
I perks up mai silkee blak eerz at this. “A blak robe? Hmm. Cud I be a judj wen I grows up?”
“Um, well, yu cud,” sez Mom slowlee. “But yu’d hav to go to lawyer skool first, an that is pertee borin. An aneewae, the judj didn’t chays the layzer pointr eethr.”
So aneeway, that is why we not have a storee or a revyu of a toy or aneethin lik that todae in mai blog. But, hey, yu gots to lern about Jooree Dootee, an partissipartoree somthin, an also judjiz. So yu’r still getting edjakaytd. So that’s OK. See yu tomorro!
Monday, September 28, 2009
Mom sez that yu gyz all has herd about that feller Noah whu bildid an ARK, which is a kind of boat fer carryin lotsa critterz in it. She sez that yu akshul beleev whut that hoomin baibul teetch: that Noah wer The Gy, an that the aminals wer sorta aftrthogts. Huh. In the piktchur, they onlee shows sheep, cuz sheep wer popular cuz of their fur, not lik, say, anteaters or herons. That's OK, tho, cuz mom sez that the art that gets protektid is uzhual the art that supports the PO-LIT-IKUL STATUS QWO. So we are disappointed, but we'r not too surprizd.
Still, I figgr that yu wud rathr noe the akshul trooth, so I is goin to tells yu it. But becuz it migt get long (lik littrbox long: go now!!!), an som of mai reedrz migt hav trubbul wift lolcat speak, I is havin mom do the tranzlaytin fer me. She tellz me that her Jeezus fellr sed that “the trooth will mayks yu free,” so she is willin to halp all she kin. Yu noe, somtim, when she tayks naps when I wants to plae, or wants to plae when it cleerlee naptim, I thingk mai mom is ridiklus. But at tims lik theezes, I lovs her. Huh. She gots that emptee mynd that we all shud stryv fer.
1. There is a difference between empty and open. I have an open mind. Open. Not empty.
2. I lovs yu tu, Musashi. So heer is yer skriptchur.
Mom, don’t doooo that!
Huh. Now mai creaytiv joosiz hav stopt flowin. I jus cannot prodoos seeryus litratchur if yu’r goin to criteek me all the tim or, eevn wers, talks about lov. Huh. Mai jentul reedrz will jus hav to wayts til next tim, an that migt werk betterer, sins that’ll be aftr yer jooree dootee, an also I will hav gotten ovr mai shtink. Hrrmph.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
In the speerit of offrin lotsa poyntz of vyu, I has desydid to tell yu about anothr of them cozmik theeoreez, onlee this tim, it is a theeory that hadzd inflooins on the eeventz of the hoomin baibul an the kittee baibul (which it turn out is not the saym as lolcat bible; whu nu?). So I tell yu whut folks beleevd wae bak, an laytr on, when I gets ther in mai nu revyzd verzhun of kittee baibul, I will tell yu how it all fit togethr.
See, wae bak, about 2 millenieniumz ago, in Souft Merika, lotsa peeples wer beleevin in this god naymd Qwetzlko-attul. He wuz a snayk wift a coat mayd of green fethrz. His naym meen (yu not goin to beleev this) “snayk wift fethrz.” He wuz god of ayr an wind an knowin stuffs. The hoominz killed aminals to keep him happee. It wer a verree uglee tim. But the Aztek kitteez, whu not noe betterer, worshipppt him, an yu kin imajin the attrakshun to a kittee of somthin that is part wigglee snayk an part berd. They musta ben watchin him fer hours an hours wiftout eevn blingkin.
I gives yu piktchurz of whut this god feller migt hav lookt lik. Pertee scaree feller. I gotta say, I todallee preferz Ceiling Cat, whu at leest look lik me, an isn’t neer as scary. Huh.
Friday, September 25, 2009
7. So Ceiling Cat napped and woke and stretched and napped again, gathering strength for this new creating business. And when he finally woke, he found that he had been blocking the sun’s rays from hitting Urf properly, and that some of the Urf’s seas had turned to ice, covering large portions of the land. So Ceiling Cat leaped! up and went down to Urf, and where his hot paws landed, the ice began to melt.
8. And Ceiling Cat coughed and coughed and produced hairball after hairball, and he shaped them to fly in the air and swim in the waters and to play on the ice and on the land. He was particularly proud of the woolly mammoths and saber tooth tigers. And the more he created, the more fun he had. He made bugs and birds, humans and horses, rats and rabbits, lions and lynxes, kiwis and kangaroos. He made stretchy animals like elephants and giraffes and round animals like turtles, ladybugs and hippopotomotmusses, and when he had done that, he realized he was just getting silly. So he purred loudly, breathing on the creatures, and then curled up and took a nap.
9. But the creatures were making so much noise, mooing and squawking and chirping, that Ceiling Cat was unable to sleep. So he picked up this animal and that by the scruff of the neck and deposited them in different places, some in the desert and some in the forests, some on glaciers and some beneath the mountains. And when there were different kinds of animals spread out around the whole Urf, Ceiling Cat purred, saying, “Now I is nevr goin to be bored agen, cuz I mayded all these creetchurz to be awsom lik me, and I is so happy that I is goin to take a nap.”
10. But before he curled up, he took some dirt and some ice and made a big white ball and put it on the opposite side of Urf from the sun, so that it would reflect the sun’s light and remind him not to sleep between the sun and the Urf. And because it looked like it was mooning him, Ceiling Cat named the ball Moon. And then, because he had worked so hard, Ceiling Cat curled up and napped. Kthxbai.
OK, now yu noe the whol creayshun storee, the reelz one, not that ol hoomin peeples verzhun. Yu kin tell the diffruns cuz the hoomin storeez alwaez mayk it soundz lik hoomin are the perpuss of evrthin, an that is rediklus. An their verzhun of Ceiling Cat doesn't nap neerlee enugf fer all the werk he do. This kinda thingkin is calld "critikul interpretayshun" or possibul "HERMENEUTICS." But I doesn't noe whu this Herman feller is.
I just want everyone to know that I really do know how to spell hipopopto-- hippopotma-- I really do know how to spell millennia.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Mom wuz telling me that in Kansas somplays, they has a rool that wen they teetch 1 big theeoree of the yoonivers, they has to teetch the othr 1 as well. So I’m goin to tell yu what som folks thingk, whu doesn’t beleev in Ceiling Cat an his hard werk creaytin evrthin.
Parentlee, som folks in diffrint parts of the wurld beleev that the wurld is shaypt lik a reellee big flat playt. The playt sits on the bak of a elefunt, and the elefunt is standin on the bak of a turtul.
Som folks, lik Sir Terry Pratchett, say it’s akshul 4 elefunts standin on the bak of a jynormus space turtul whu is swimmin thru the cosmos. Othr folks say, no, is just one elefunt, but it’s turtuls all the wae down.
Non of theez folks has egsplaynd to mai satisfaxshun how the elefunt (or elefunts) an the turtul (or turtuls) go ther in the first plays, tho.
But aneewae, now yu noe. Also, is importint not to mok peeples whu doesn’t beleev saym as yu. Probabul yu kin nibbul at their toez, howevr.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
OK. So I sed befor that I wud writ a nu Baibul thin, that mayded mor sens fer kittees. So I startid writin it and drawin the pictchurz, but I wuzn't shur that the hoomin peeples, whu ar the peeples whu cayrz most about the othr Baibul, wud unnerstan it compleetlee. So I asksed Mom to typ it up in mor hoomin Inglish, an onlee yooz LOLcat speak fer wen Ceiling Cat talkd or fer speshul werds. An Mom's genrullee cool, so she sed OK. So heer is the start. We hasn't figgerd out yet how to mayk jpgs out of mai crayon piktchurz that I droo. So we are yoozin othr stuffs fer now. Kthx.
1. Ceiling Cat Creates the Universe and Everything, Including Urf
1. In the beginning, when Ceiling Cat created the universe, there was a whole lot of nothing absolutely everywhere, like darkness and dust and water and stuff, all mixed up. And Ceiling Cat hovered around, swooping over the face of the waters, being curious. Then Ceiling Cat said, “I wundr whut happnz if I mayks ligt.” And there was light. And Ceiling Cat purred; and Ceiling Cat separated the dark from the light, and curled up and took a nap.
2. And Ceiling Cat woke up and stretched and said, “I wundr whut happnz if I mayk som planetts out of the dust, an starz out of the ligt, an toss them into the dark bits.” And it happened. And Ceiling Cat purred and chased the planets and the stars around in the dark, leaping! and pouncing! on them and purring so loudly that they all spun around in the dark and they played with Ceiling Cat for a couple of millenieniums. And Ceiling Cat curled up and took a nap.
3. And Ceiling Cat woke up and stretched and licked his toes and his belly and watched the planets and the stars playing together like kittens, and he said, “I wundr whut happnz if I mayks a speshul planet?” And he coughed and coughed and spat up a hairball, and shaped it into a planet, adding water and dust from the other planets, and sending it spinning with the others. And Ceiling Cat said, “I cogft up this planet, ‘urf, urf, urf,’ so I goin to call it Urf.” And Ceiling Cat purred and played with Urf, patting it and pouncing! on it, and leaving it with his footprints in some places and tall bits of dirt in others (like your litterbox, but much bigger and much nicer). And the Urf was hot and wet and Ceiling Cat said, “I wundr whut happnz if I mayk weedz an green stuffs?” And Urf brought forth weeds and green stuff of all kinds, and huge trees and brightly colored flowers of all kinds. And Ceiling Cat romped over the Urf, rolling in the weeds and chewing on the leaves and pouncing! on the flowers. And Ceiling Cat purred and curled up and took a nap.
4. When Ceiling Cat woke up, lots of millenieniums had passed. And he looked at the universe, at the planets and stars, and the darkness between them, and at Urf and its water and mountains and weeds and green stuff. And Ceiling Cat purred and said, “This all grayt! But I is bored.” So Ceiling Cat pooped on the Urf’s dirt, and kicked dirt and leaves over it and then rolled it into different shapes, tall, long, round and thin. Large as trees and small as leaves he made them, and he gave them teeth and claws and tails and wings, and said, “Be dinosaurs and romp around and eat stuff and practice your leaping! and pouncing!” And he breathed on them and purred. The dinosaurs of different kinds lived among the green plants and the fiery mountains. And Ceiling cat purred and curled up and took a nap.
5. Ceiling Cat woke and stretched and ran about the universe for a while, among the planets romping in the dark. He made stuff on some planets (which is secret and none of your business) and left other planets alone. And after several millenieniums doing this, he began to miss Urf, so he went back to see how the dinosaurs were doing.
6. Now Urf had changed considerably while Ceiling Cat was gone. Most of the volcanoes had fallen asleep and lots of dinosaurs had fallen into tar pits. But the one change Ceiling Cat had intended had not come to pass. The dinosaurs still had no fur. Ceiling Cat sprawled near the sun and thought. He realized that he had made the dinosaurs from his poop. If he wanted creatures to have fur, he would have to make them from his fur. Also, the dinosaurs, though fun to watch, were not very smart, for he had given them more muscle than brain, so they walked into tar pits and got themselves killed so that after only a few hundred millenieniums, there were almost none of them left. He would take thought and make new creatures. Right after a nap.
I really do know how to spell millennia, but Musashi insists that his spelling sounds much longer.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Happee Autom! As probabul most of yu reedrz noe, last monft was mai haf-birftdae, an mai rescue dae memerorial, 08/08 (an that’s why mai middul naym is Octavian). Fer that ospishus dae, I gots a green shtring from mai frend Jenna, an (when she had comd bak from Pitsberg) a fuzzy ninja moussee on a stretchee shtring from mai mom. Her naym is Shteller. The moussee, not mom. But this post is about shtringz, not ninjaz. This post about (dum-dum-DUM!): The Importins of Dentl Haijeen (an Sayfty Also).
Som peeples thingk that I only liv the life of a lidderary sellebriddy, but is not tru. In fact, I works very hard. Fer example, evry nigt, I com in baftroom wher mom is FLOSSING an BRUSHING her teeft. I junp up on the edje of sink an fossl-a-tate. I maks shur that she's doin it rigt: chewin on shtring an brushin wift the brusht. Then, wuns I shur she hasn't fergottin stuff, I junp down to the bathtub, to mak shur that no Bathtub Shnowzerz are comin up to attackle her or me. I told yu all about the shnowzerz wae bak in Janyooaree, so if yu hav forgot, yu shud go bak an refresh yer memorrary.
But heer’z the importint part fer all yu kitteez out ther. It akshul not jus mom whu hav to FLOSS wift shtring (an her shtring is green also). I gotsta FLOSS tooo. I fyndid this out bak in Jooly wen I vizitid the vet, a nys laydee whu say mai breft akshul stink fer a gud reezon, an that is jenetiks. Parentlee, I migt has som Mayn Coon kittee in me. They’r noen fer bein big an havin toothal problims. Huh. Win som, looz som, I ges.
Aneewae, mai verree niftee shtring from Jenna is the bestest. It is long an fuzzee, which meen it is mor fun an also that wen I FLOSS, it probabul catch mor stuff. The coolest part is it’s got like 7 or 8 endz, cuz I’ll be playin wift 1 an then mom danguls anothr abov mai hed, an jus as I grabs at that end, ther anothr 1 comin around at me! It lik majik, I thingks, boft fun an gud fer mai toofts. Betweeen that an the speshul toothal fud I got perscrybd bai mai vet, mai mouft smell mutch betterer an I am a happier kittee.
So all yu littul kitteez gots to rememember to FLOSS jus lik Onkul Musashi! K?
Sunday, September 20, 2009
So I’ve been trying to explain to Musashi how the creation story in Genesis works, that it is not a literal description of how God created the world, but a reasonable approximation, reasoned out and written by humans, of what made sense to them at the time, when they didn’t know any science as we understand it today. If he doesn’t feel comfortable with the story they came up with (or how it has been used), then he needs to consider who the poor old writers were, who were trying so desperately to figure out explanations for the stuff that happens (which also explains why sometimes the Bible offers two different stories explaining the same thing, back to back), good and bad together.
Mom sed that if I doesn’t lik the storeez in her Genesis book, that I shud writ mai owns. She sez, “Wul, whut do yu thingk Ceiling Cat did? Writ it down. Why not? Yur ges is as gud as myn.”
An I sed, “Does I have to foller yer Genesis?” An she sed, “Cors not.” An I sed, “But cud I foller it?” An she sed, “Shur if yu wants to. Yu gots a vizhun of whut Ceiling Cat did an is keepin on doin, as far as this creayshun thin is consernd. Tell us that.”
An I sed, “This migt tayk a whyl. An I’ll need a purpul crayon…”
Yu got it. I gives yu purpul crayon, an othr colrz, an som big paypr, an whutevr yu needs. I don’t noe how we ar goin to get it on yer website, but we’ll figgr that out. ‘Ceiling Cat will provyd.’
That soun lik a qwot, but yu not sytid it.
It is qwot, but yu ar too fast fer me. Is biblical, um, Genesis 22:34, I thingk.
O, yah, the bit sayin, “Cuz Ceiling cat givz cheezburgrz.”
Um, yeah. Probably. Wher I put mai green lettr baibul? It wuz around heer somwher…
Mayk up mai owns creayshun storee. I lyks this ideer. Fer 1 thin, myn wud tayk mor tim. The ideer of Ceiling Cat creaytin werlds in the time it wud tayk him to puup—unbeleevabul. Huh. We kin do bettrer than that…
Saturday, September 19, 2009
OK! So I ben reedin (or, akshul, sleepin on) the saym books that mai mom is reedin fer skool. An this fall, that meen the Old Baibul that Mom an our frends (that be moslee our frens whu beleevs in bein Joowish or Crischun) spend tim reedin, so they kin figgr out whut Ceiling Cat is egspektin them to do wift their lyvs.
I wuz hopin I cud avoid the bit about hoomin peeples bein created, but no such luck. So heer it is, the Revyzed (by Mom) Standard (by hundreds of othr translaytrz) Lolcat Version, or the RSLV of the end of that storee I wuz tellin yu about befor. (An if yu wants to reed the whol thin, yu kin chek it out at http://www.lolcatbible.com. But I’m warnin yu, is reellee long. Reeeellee looooong. An that also wer pikchurs com from.)
Genesis 1:26-2:1-3 Ceiling Cat iz waching yu...
26 An Ceiling Cat sed, letz us do peeples like u, becuz we iz teh qte, an let men pOwnzOr becuz tehy has can openrz.
27 So Ceiling Cat createded teh peeples taht wuz like him, can has can openers he maed tehm, men an women wuz maeded, but he did not eated tehm.
28 An Ceiling Cat sed, O hai maek bebehs kthx, an pOwn teh waterz, no waterz an teh firmmint, an evry stufs.
29 An Ceiling Cat sed, Beholdt, the Urths, I has it, an I has not eated it. 30 For evry createded stufs tehre are the fuudz, to the burdies, teh creepiez, an teh mooes, so tehre. It happen. Iz good.
31 An Ceiling Cat sayed, Beholdt, teh good enouf for releaze as version 0.8a. Kthxbai.
1 An teh skyz an teh Urths wur finishd, an al teh stufz in dem, an Ceiling Cat was liek al tired an stuf. 2 An on teh 7f day Ceiling Cat got dun makingks al dat stuf; an he restd on teh 7f day cuz he wuz poopd frum al dat werkin, an not liek havng himself alone. An he not get payd ovrtym eethr.
3 Ceiling Cat blessd teh 7f day, an sed itz teh hOliezOrz; cuz dats when he restd frum all his werk wich Ceiling Cat creatd an maed. Yay holy Caturday!
The words “pOwnzOr” and “pOwn” are like “pounce” and “power” and some other words that people who write in TextSpeak like to write. It is apparently important that you write them with zeroes. Don’t ask me why.
Now hoomin peeples probabul thingk that the reellee importint bit is the bit wher hoomins get all creaytid. But that’s jus extra. The troolee importint bit is the nappin. Cuz wen yu does hard werk, yu gots to rest an nap and then stretch an then nap som mor. That a thin Ceiling Cat sez in this book that I kin totallee get behin. Huh.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Be it known that the nineteenth day of September in the year of Ceiling Cat 2009 is (apparently) Talk Like a Pirate Day. And if you don’t believe me, Google it. So there. And also, “Arrr!”
O hai. I has desydid to tayk a dae off from bein all kind an jentul, cuz it’s lotsa werk. Conveenyintlee, Septemberer 19 is this yeer’z Talkin Lik Pirates Day, so I kin spend mai dae off bein reelee feers, but nobodee goin to notis, cuz evrbodee els will be actin feers, too. So is sorta lik not bein feers at all. This calld relativitlee, or somthin.
So how does yu talks like pirates? That eezee. Jus ay, “Arrrr!” Doggees is natchrul pirates, cuz they sez, “ARRR!” all the tim. Us kittee peeples mostlee sez, “Errrrr.” But I spekt it's larjlee a mattr of praktis.
Also, if yu wants som resorsis fer yer pirates dae, yu kin look at the main website fer the day, http://www.talklikeapirate.com, wher ther lotsa stuff about the robbr barins of the seez. Mai fayvrotist one is Pirate Laws at http://www.piratelaws.com. Mai fayvortist laws is 49 about meat, 61 about not cleenin up, an 13 about talkin about othr pirates soft hands. I wud lik to add an addendum to 13: “No pirates or his mom is allowd to sez how kyoot his paws ar. Evr.”
Yu heer that, Mom?
Aye, Matey, I heers. I’ll make ye an offer: a 24-hour moratorium on comments on yer paws. Can’t ask fairer nor that, eh?
Um, whut’s moratory-m?
Arrr. It means that if I slip up, yu can kill me something mortal. But: you will have to find your own food and clean up your own litterbox, thus breaking laws 49 and 61. Arrr. And also, Avast!
Huh. Yu gots to admyr sombodee whu reelee gets into the speerit of the thin…
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
If all yu reedr peeples don’t want me to becom a spy or somthin vyolint lik that (an yu kin see whut that's lik if yu goez to mai othr blog, Agent Eight's Spy Journal at http://agenteightsspyjournal.blogspot.com), then I gots to com up wift som othr career opshuns.
Asyd from lookin at the Baibul lik Mom does at her skool, I wuz thingkin of becomin a dentist. Dentists deels wift yer teeft (Yah, they ogts to call them toothists, but go figgr). Now, I thingks that teeft ar small an not verree danjerus, so dentistree wud be a kind an jentul perfeshun.
Parentlee, lotsa kittee peeples does this. I inkloods lotsa pictshurs to shows yu.
Yu lets me noe whut yu thingks. K?
Monday, September 14, 2009
Som of mai reedrz wuz verree glad wen I escaypt from Licktenshtyn an got bak to mai reglar lyf, espeshul becuz they wer missin mai commintaree on toyz an littr an othr importint stuff. I didn’t egspekt a 72-hour mishun to last fer 2 monfts lik that. Mom sez it’s cuz of jet lag an quantum. Tim kin do stretchee stuff wen a lot is happnin at onse. Well-noen fact. Happns to athletes all the tim. Thingk about the Lympics.
An if I’m goin to be a responsibul writr servin mai constitchooensee of jentul reedrz, then I got to be maykin som desizhuns.
Does I gives up spyin? Does I gives up telling peeples stuffs they need to noe?
It seemd verree hard until mai mom remind me what her frendz at skool alwaes sez: “It not eethr/or. It boft/and.”
“Huh,” sez I. “How I do boft? How yu egspekt me to be in 2 playsiz at the saym tim?”
“Huh yerself,” she sez. “Yu noe about fhyziks. Yooz quantum. A thing kin absolootlee be in 2 playsiz at the saym tim as long as nobuddee noe about it egsaktlee.”
She egsplaynd it to me ovr an ovr til I gotst it. Parentlee, it has to do wift this kittee naymed Schroedinger whu travlz playsis in a box. She sez that basiklee, kitteez has the 9 lyvz, but evrboddee alwaes assoomz they got to liv them SEE-QUENT-CHALLEE, lik 1 aftr another. But ther no reezn why we can’t liv 2 at the saym tim, as long as we don’t yooz that GPS trackin stuff.
Well, I’m still not shur I folloz it all, but I chekt it out wift MII-6, an they sed, oh yeah, we does that all the tim.
OK, no. They’s British. Whut they akshul sed wuz, “Qwite rigt, ol man. Didn’t M tell yu? It’s qwite the don thing.” (Mom tranzlaytid fer me into Merikan.)
So tomorrow I’m goin to start a PARALELL blog wift my parallel lyf.
PS: Meenwhyl, I lerns how to salsa, so I kin sweet-talk the laydeez. Tango wud be askin wae tooo mutch.
Check it out tomorrow at http://agenteightsspyjournal.blogspot.com
It’s exactly what it sounds like, except without the apostrophe.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
OK! Ther this moovee laydee yu needz to noe about. Her naym iz Emma. As far as I noe, she has nevr playd a kittee, but we lik her aneewae. She is also writer. She wrot reellee good scripts fer Sens & Sensibilitee, an also Nanny McPhee. On of them is by that Jane Austen laydee that Mom thingks is so cool. Emma also playd a writr in Stranjr Than Ficshun. But she did not writd it, which is kinda strnj. Huh. We gives her 2 stars, eevn tho she doesn’t wayr blak mutch. But Mom thingk she’z the bomb, so OK.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
OK. So I bet that lotsa yu reederz hav ben sayin to yerselvz, “Whut got into that Musashi? He ben verree agressiv, with the vyolins an scayree stuff. I thogt he wuz a sweet an jentul kittee. I has a sad!”
An yu noe whut? Yu ar egzaktlee rigt. From now on, this blog is goin to focus on kyndr an jentlr topics. An to showz yu I meen it, I’m goin to start by lookin at this Baibul thing mai mom is studyin at skool. This the book wher Ceiling Cat say he a sheep houskeepr, rigt? Yu jus can’t get jentlr than sheeps.
So we starts wift Genesis (Mom sez that meen “beginningz,” but I don’t beleev it. She sez it com from anothr langwudj. She also sez that this reellee old dOOd, Martn Loothr, he sez yu shud reed Baibul in yer own langwudj, so I gives yu the Revyzd LOLCat Verzhun. Is revyzd cuz Mom fix a littul of the spellin so yu foks whu aren’t fluent kin unnerstand. Yu reddee? (It goin to be jus a littul long, so if yu gots to go to the littr boks, yu shud probabul go now.)
Yu bak? OK! Heer it com!
Genesis 1:1-25 Boreded Ceiling Cat Makinkgz Urf n Stuffs
1 Oh hai. In teh beginnin Ceiling Cat mayd teh skiez an da urths, but he did not eated dem.
2 Da Urths no had shapez an hadz dark face, an Ceiling Cat rode invisible bike over teh waterz.
3 At start, no has lite. An Ceiling Cat sez, I can haz lite? An lite wuz. 4 An Ceiling Cat sawed teh lite, to seez stuffs, an splitted teh lite from dark but taht wuz ok cuz kittehs can see in teh dark an not tripz over nothin. 5 An Ceiling Cat sed lite Day, an dark No Day. It were FURST!!!
6 An Ceiling Cat sed, I’m in ur waterz makin a ceiling. But he no yet make a urth. An he maded a hole in teh ceiling. 7 An Ceiling Cat mayd teh skiez with waterz down an waterz up. It happen. 8 An Ceiling Cat sed, I can has teh firmmint (wich iz funny bibel naym 4 ceiling), so wuz teh twoth day.
9 An Ceiling Cat gotted all teh waterz in urth’s base, an Ceiling Cat maydz dry placez cuz kittehs DO NOT WANT get wet. 10 An Ceiling Cat called no waterz Urth and waters Oshun. Iz good.
11 An Ceiling Cat sed, DO WANT grass! So tehr wuz seedz an stufs, an fruitzors an vegtabels. An a Corm. It happen. 12 An Ceiling Cat sawed that weedz is good, so, letz there be weedz! 13 An so teh threeth day: jazzhands!
14 An Ceiling Cat sed, I can has lightz in the skiez for splittin Day an No Day. 15 It happen, lights everwher, like christmus, srsly. 16 An Ceiling Cat mayd two grate lightz, teh most big for Day, teh othr for No Day. 17 An Ceiling Cat screw tehm on skiez, with big nails an stuff, to lite teh Urths.18 An tehy rulez day an night. Ceiling Cat sawed: iz reelee good. 19 An so teh furth day, wOOt!
20 An Ceiling Cat sed, waterz bring me fishies an burds, so kittehs can eat dem. But Ceiling Cat no eated dem. 21 An Ceiling Cat mayd big fishies an see monstrs, which wuz like big cows, except they no mood, an other stuffs dat mooves, an Ceiling Cat sawed iz good. 22 An Ceiling Cat sed, O hai, make bebehs, kthx. An don’t worry, I won’t watch u secksy, I not that kynd uf kitteh. 23 An so teh...fith day. (Eevn Ceiling Cat taek a wile 2 cownt.)
24 An Ceiling Cat sed, I can has MOAR living stuff, mooes, an creepie things, an othr aminals. It happen, so ther. 25 An Ceiling Cat mayd moar living stuff, mooes, an creepies, an othr animuls, an did not eated tehm.
This still 5th day. An ther jus a littul mor blog to com, so if yu didn’t go to littr boks befor, an yu’r thingkin now that yu shud hav gon, yu go now. We wait.
La la la.
OK, now I let Mom sez her thin, an then I sez myn. (Be payshunt wift her. She’z onlee hoomin peeples on owtsyd. She kittee peeplez on insyd. I thingk.)
Okay, I’m just going to quote a human scholar of the Hebrew Bible, Walter Brueggeman. (I give him at least three stars; who knows what Musashi will think…) He says:
The creation story tells “that the world (‘heaven and earth’) belongs to God [Ceiling Cat], is formed and willed by God [CC], is blessed by God [CC] with abundance, is to be cared for by the human creatures who are deeply empowered by God [CC], but who are seriously restrained by God [CC]. The creation [narrative is] an affirmation of the goodness of the world intended by God [CC]…” (Brueggeman 31-32).
Huh. I getz that hoomin peeples is empowrd, cuz they got thumz. But I has hard tim seein the restraynin bit. I keep thingkin that if Ceiling Cat had been thingkin cleererer, he wud hav givn kittees thums an not bothrd wift hoominz. Egsept mebbe fer mai mom, an mai Ont Haydee an Onkul Josh. But noboddee els!!! (An mai cuzzin Raychul, an mai frend Karli. But that all! Srsly.)
An if I thingks that, as a kittee peeple, kin yu imajin whut the cow peeples and the piggee peeples, an the sheep peeples thingk? An I bet them whaylz hav a opinyon, too…
Brueggeman, Walter. An Introduction to the Old Testament. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2003.
Friday, September 11, 2009
OK! I noe I ben goin on an on about Jimbond an all that spy stuff, but yu got to be admittin, it verree egsytin!!! All that runnin and jumpin, an eevn leepin! an pounsin!, although I didn’t do no pounsin! on mai mishun. But ther this othr gy whu wuz not a spy. He wuz a moovee star an a marshl artist, an that meen he draw pikchurz of swamps in his spayr tim, but also that he lik figtin othr peeple a whol lot.
I thingk he not ben “fixd,” whutevr that meen, cuz of all the figts he got into, not alwaes wift the rigt peeples, but o well. He wuz, lik I sed, a moovee star in mooveez lik Chyneez Connekshun and Com Heer, Dragn!
He lookt reellee gud in blak too. I givs him 2 starz.
PS: O yeh, he don Kung Fu, an that is kind of figtin, an yu eevn gets to yooz yer clawz!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Musashi had anticipated regretting leaving his alter ego, Agent Octavian, behind in London when he finally flew home, but now that he was on the British Air flight with the fluffy clouds outside the plane and the pretty stewardesses inside, he thought that the present was just fine after all. Sure, he was a suave, resourceful, nerves-of-steel kind of guy, but in the end what he was most was a cat, and cats are homebodies. Yes, he was cool in a crisis and could think on his paws, but some of life’s most precious joys involved sunshine, windowsills, and napping.
He could let go of the heart-rumbling danger, the exotic locales, the fascinating smells, and the pretty theme music playing in the background. He had catnip moussees to look forward to, and his burble-burble water fountain. He could pillow his head on Mom’s knee at night. He had his laser pointer to chase! and his friend Mr. Tiger Puppet to wrestle.
All a kittee person needs, he reflected, are the simple joys of—
OK, so ther I wuz in mai fansee seet on the ayrplayn, havin deep thogts and lookin forwrd to goin hom, wen all of a suddin, this gy in the seet across the ayul, started callin fer the stooerdess to com get the “filfthee catt whu musta got loos!”
Well, natchurul, I wuz lookin around to see if I cud rekignyz this cat he wuz talkin about. Is this somboddee I noes?
Huh. As if. He wuz poyntin rigt at ME! Of all the nerv. Harrumph. An lik that.
But, see, this somthin I lernd from my mayt Jimbond. He tell me, alwaes be nys to peeples, espeshul the laydee peeples. So I had ben doin my bestest to be all swayv and polyt to the stooerdess (Her name Helen, lik that laydee whu start all the wars; I asksed if she wuz naymed aftr that laydee, and she turnd a funnee pink colr an gigguld, but she nevr did ansr, so I stil don’t noe).
Aneewae, mai frend Helen, she bring this rood gy a egstra pillo an say, “My deer sir, wud yu pleez refrayn from maykin sutch a nastee sceeen. Mr. Octavian has payd his fayr, jus as yu has, an he deezervs to be left in peece, don’t yu agree?”
Well, parentlee, he didn’t agree, cuz he kept on yellin about filfthee cats, an maykin asperzhuns, an bein prejoodist and derogatoree an lik that. Of cors, he wuz a Merikan, lik me, altho not from Masachoositz.
But the stooerdess kept bein egstra polyt an ignorin him. An heer the bestest thin yet: becuz the gy wudn’t shut up an be nys, I got moovd up to bizniz class, wher I met a verree nys gy whu nue all about catnip farmin. He nue so mutch that we talkt about it fer the whol 5 or 6 hours of the fligt. Turn out ther a pertee gud profit in it, so mebbe I try bein farmr next.
An that shud be gud to thingk about som mor whyl I’m nappin on the windo sill or sleepin wift mai hed on Mom’s knee.
Also, they giv me theez littul gold wingz on a pin, jus lik the onez the akshul pylot wayr on his yooniform!!! So mebbe I becom a pylot...
Monday, September 7, 2009
Don’t aksk me about the travelin bak to Londin. It don’t ber thingkin about, wift all the turning cornrz an chanjin altatoodz, an lik that. We gots bak to MI-6’s seekret hedqwatterz, which they parentlee shayr wift som export companee, tho I din’t see no boxsis beein pakt.
M an her sekretaree sat down wift me and Alek in her verree shynee metul-an-glass offis an akskd us all kindsa qwestshunz. Alek tol his part of our adventchur, an then I tol myn. They hadsd alreddee mayd pikchurz out of mai film an we wer all impresst wift how cleer they all wer.
M lookt at the metal drumz markd wift the Chyneez writin an sed, “China. Unexpected, but hardly surprising. Tell me, Musashi, where do you suppose the UK buys the ink for its money?”
I thogt hard. “Um…Chyna?”
“Exactly. And China has recently raised its price for ink, claiming to have made expensive changes in the formula that will make it more ecologically sustainable.”
“Greenr ink?” I askd.
“Quite. This is very useful, Musashi. But tell me, this last image, what’s this? The bank’s surveillance office?”
“I ges so. It had to be pertee importint fer Hayr Direktr Shmit to be ther at 3 in the morning at nigt. That’s why I tukt the pickshur, cuz it seem kinda unegspektid.”
“I don’t like it,” said Alek.
“Well, I wuz trying to run out the dor at the tim, so it gots kinda blooree. Sorree ‘bout that.”
M shook her hed. “That’s not what he means. Hmm. We’ll have to look into this. Thank you, Musashi. Three for the price of one: the Chinese connection, some questionable activities of Herr Schmidt, and the news of Miss Fourpaws’ money laundering. Could be useful, that. Good work, gentlemen. You’ve earned some time off.”
“Not too mutch, I hopz,” I sed, rubbin agenst M’s ankulz.
She leend down an kisst me on the hed. “We’ll see.”
Alek rolld his eyz at me as we left her offis, but he kept his pr omis to halp me find som MARMITE fer a sooveneer fer mai mom befor halpin me get mai playn hom from Heethro.
Cuz that what frendz is fer, eh whut?
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Alek entered wearing his black chauffeur suit and cap and an uncharacteristically diffident manner. He approached the table. “Good morning, marm, sir.”
“Ah, Alek,” said Octavian. “So sorree to wayks yu up, but the wethr turned beestlee jus as I wuz on mai wae bak.”
“No trouble, sir.”
“Well, Zora, I be seein you agen somtim.”
“Yu sink so, Octavvyon?”
“May wee. The wurld is reelee small, yu noe.”
“So eet eez. Au revoir, zen.”
“O revwarr.” Octavian leaped down and ambled out, his black plume of a tail held high. In the lobby, Alek opened a large black umbrella and they went out to the car. Alek opened the back door for him and he jumped in, but by the time Alek had got into the driver seat, Octavian had jumped over the barrier and settled himself in the passenger seat.
“Eight, a gentleman doesn’t sit up front with the help.”
“I wanna watch the winsheeld wyprz. I has had a verree tens an tryin nigt, an they’r relaksin, wift their wipt-wopt, wipt-wopt. I liks it.”
“Oh, Eight, what are we going to do with you?”
“Huh. That whut M sed. But yu gyz don’t hav to do aneethin.”
“I’m not so sure. And how did you end up at Felicity Fourpaws’ table? The whole of the city is empty of waking souls except for the head of the Fourpaws dog-toy dynasty, and you—“ He sputtered to a stop.
Octavian explained. The rain came down. The windshield wipers made a pleasing, meditative sound against the glass.
Alek sighed. “I don’t know, Eight. M will think you’ve gone over the wall.”
“Huh. It wasn’t over aneethin. It wuz mor sorta strayt down the wall an into the Dumbstr. That’s wher I pikt up theez interesting smellz.”
“And what did the feline lady think of your…smells?”
“Oh, she’s a kittee. She unnerstan about stuff lik that. A Tom-about-town gets into stuff somtim.”
“Hmm. She looked more the fastidious type to me.”
“Well, mebbe jus about her monnee. She sed she wuz heer fer washin it, saym as me—-well, saym as mai covr-storee me, aneewae.”
“Wait! She told you that?” Alek braked rather abruptly in front of the hotel.
“Shur. We wer getting to noe eetch othr.”
“I still don’t know, Eight. I don’t trust her as far as I could throw her, and she looked rather well-fed and ambitious.”
“Don’t worree so mutch, Alek,” said Octavian, yawning broadly. “Mai hart belong to M. Compleetlee.”
Friday, September 4, 2009
A great roaring filled Agent Octavian’s ears. He struggled until he heard a female voice, calm and steady, saying, “Oh, I noe eet’s loud an’ obnoxious, but eet will make yu warrm an’ dry verree fast, if yu arr verree brayve.”
The cat speaking to him was in fact the Persian he’d seen before at dinner, with her lush grey fur. And he could, in fact, feel his fur growing warmer and drier, so he forced himself to be calmer than he felt, by far. Clearly, there was nothing to do but pretend to be brave and, by doing so, to prove himself actually brave.
The doorman set him down at her table respectfully enough, so he opened his eyes. The table was already set for two cats, with small water bowls, porcelain trays covered with salmon, mackerel, trout, and kittee crunchies, and tall champagne flutes with straws in them, sending up tiny bubbles into the golden liquid.
Octavian sipped a little and murmured, “Mmm. Whut is this stuff?”
The Persian purred, “Oh, have you never had ze Catneep Royale?”
Octavian pulled himself up to the bar in his best Jimbond manner and said, “Why no. Whut’s in it?”
“Oho, eez three partz jin, wun partz wodka, an haffapartz eau du catneep, weeth a spreeg of meent.”
“Ah,” said Octavian nervously, “so it’s the jinanwodka that mayks it tayst so diffrint.”
“Mais oui. You lyk?”
“It haz a serten somthin…” Agent Octavian licked his paw to get the taste off his tongue without offending her or losing his façade of cat-of-the-world. “So. I’m Octavian. Whut’s yer naym?”
She said, “My hoomin calls me Felicity, but my real name eez Zora.”
Octavian felt a throbbing in his throat. Was it love? A hairball? Or a message from Alek coming through on his camera collar? He had forgotten about that function.
“So, um,” said Agent Octavian, “is ther a littr bokx aroun heer?”
“O, yes,” said Zora. “Across from ze kitchen, zere are 3 doors: 2 with pictures of hoominz, and one with a chat, a kittee, in yor Inglish…”
“Kthx. Be rigt bak!”
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
I rayst throo the streetz of Vaduz, drentcht from abov bai the rayn an splasht from belo bai the puddlz, not shur if I wuz bein followd but not taykin annee chansis. I had to get bak to the hotel an pertend lik I had nevr left, but I’d onlee don this trip awayk in the daetim. Now evrthin lookd diffrint at nigt. I turnd a cornr that lookd familyur an foun maiself jus outsid Le Chat dans le Forêt, the fansee restoront wift the treez insid.
I lookd up at the windo, an ther, lookin down, rigt bak at me, wuz that rich laydee Perzhun kittee whu ownd the doggee-toy empyr. She flikt her tayl lik, “Com on in!” and befor I cud thingk what to do, the dorman opend the dor an shood me insid, wher I stud drippin undr thoz treez, blinkin in the ligts, an wundrin what on Ceiling Cat’s gud green erth I wuz goin to do now.
An then—if yu kin imajin it—the dorman pikt me up!
There, at the topmost landing of the bank stairs, Agent Octavian froze. In front of him stood a tall door with a broad red bar across it, which read, in German, something he couldn’t read now that the LingwaTron’s batteries had failed him.
(He’d have a few stiff words with Q if—no, when—he got back to London.)
Behind him lay the stairs. He could still hear, far below, heavy footsteps scrambling. So little time to lose! To his right stood another door, also with a message in German, but this time in black. Standing on his hind legs, he could almost reach the door’s lever—almost! The scrambling below came louder. He’d have to chance it.
He leaped! against the door and zipped into the dark room. He had an impression of a dozen blue-lit television screens flickering, but he had hidden himself in the skinny place between a console and the wall before the big black leather armchair turned, slowly, to face the door.
Octavian squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath.
A man burst in through the door and babbled in German. Outside, the other door slammed open and a siren began to shriek. Between the siren’s keening wails, Octavian heard a voice—was it Schmidt’s?—shouting,
“Dumkopf! Du hast ein Vogel im dein Kopf! Gott im Himmel!”
Schmidt chased the other man out the door and down the stairs. Octavian shot out of his hiding place, turned, caught a picture of the room on his camera collar, and shot out the door, onto the landing and then out the fire door.
He found himself on the rooftop with a heavily clouded sky overhead. Before him, with his back turned, was one of the basement workmen. Octavian turned and shot over the wall, not even thinking of how he might scale the four stories down, just doing it, defying gravity like a well-trained stunt kittee, falling, landing in something rank-smelling and soft atop the bank’s Dumpster, racing across the parking lot, panting in time with the thunder overhead.
And then rain!
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Ha! Thoz bank gyz thogt they cud catch me bai turnin off the ligts, but they didn’t reckon on mai beein abul to see in the dark!
An of cors that a gud thin cuz it meend that they didn’t beleev me when I sed I wuz a Hell Moussee, an they didn't thingk I wuz a kittee eethr. This jus lik gettin the las lagf, egsept fer I wuz getting it in the middul instead!
Cuz heer the thin about hoomin peeples an ligts. Their bildins ar nevr compleetlee dark, cuz of them emerjinsee ligts, that don’t akshul let them see enugf anneewae. So thoz por bank gyz wer still bumblin aroun in what they wer thingkin was dark eevn tho I was zippin up stayrz an aroun cornrz lik it wuz a sunnee aftrnoon instead of 2 in the mornin at nigt.
An heer’z the othr yoosful thin about bein a kittee: I kin yooz mor than 1 sens at a tim—not lik hoomins whu gots to clos eyz when they smell stuff—eevn whil I’m runnin full tilt—
An yeh, eevn when I’m a littul bit skayrd, whitch mai buddee Jimbond sez is okay, cuz it kin giv me an adrennalillin boost or somthin spelld lik that. It lik enerjee, parentlee.
An boy, did I has it! I wuz seein evr littul bit of ligt on the cornrz of evrthin, an I wuz smellin thoz gyz an their coffee an their swet an that horribul sudzee smell an dust and then I cud smell a chanj lik that Herr Direktr Shmit feller an I veerd in that direkshun (cuz it wuz old, not lik him comin down the hall or lik that) an I wuz hopin his smell wud leed me to his offis, but instead, I kept jus goin up an up an up—
An then I hadzd a bad moment.
I had com to the end of ups.