Tag: Cats

  • Eat Cat

    Eat Cat

    There is an overpopulation of cats.  Neutering is expensive and perverse.  These are tough economic times.  Look to Darwin.

    In both suburban and metropolitan areas, cats are plentiful and easy to hunt.  They are fast, but can be outsmarted.  If you’ve played Mousetrap, you are ready to go.  Eating cat is cheap, delicious, and rewarding.

    Look at how much fun we're having!

    It is preferable to catch them alive.

    Once you’ve caught your first cat, your gut instinct may be to try and place it in a boiling pot of water.  This is exactly what the cat wants you to try.  Don’t.  If you have bathed a live cat before, your scars should remind you that this is a poor idea.

    First, it is important to gain the cat’s trust.  Put a hat on the creature.  Talk to it in a baby voice.  Cuddle.  Keep it in a confined space.  This is a test of wills.  At some point, Stockholm syndrome will take over and the cat will be yours, purring as you baste its skin with another layer of marinade.

    Feed it regularly.  Fatty foods high in Omega-3 are best.  When the cat’s stomach is bulbous and the coat is glossy, you are ready to prepare your meal.

    There are a number of recipes.  Use your imagination.  I have prepared cat tacos, cat sandwiches, and cat cereal.  My friend Hank enjoys cat smoothies and cat burgers.  We once roasted a cat — it is important not to pre-heat the oven in that instance.  The cat will sense danger, and react.

    Cats contain several minerals with holistic properties.

    How rare or well done you like your cat meat is entirely at your discretion.  Cat tempura carries a gamey crunch.  Cat sashimi is for the advanced palette.

    You can remove the fur with a filet knife or leave it on.  Try it both ways.  Think of it like a fig.  If you decide to skin your cat before eating (there are many ways to do this) MAKE SURE YOU SAVE THE FUR.  It is perfect material for mittens and slippers.

    The bones have utility, too.  The skull makes both an excellent pencil holder or a classy ashtray.  A candleholder is not out of the question.  Be creative.  Channel your muse.  Use all parts of the buffalo.

    Cat cuisine is something you can really sink your teeth into!

    Once you have the basics down — hunting, brainwashing, cooking, carving, cleaning — feel free to express yourself.  The art and spirituality of cat eating is as deep an ocean as you wish it to be.  Invite your friends over.  Share the gift of cat with another.

    Occasionally, you may come across a militant vegetarian who will lecture you on the cruelty of cat cuisine, perhaps handing you pamphlets describing how evil you are for feeding yourself cheaply.  In that case, explain that plants have a right to exist just as we do.  Tell them to take their disgusting tree flesh dollar bills and go buy tofu at Albertsons.

    Bon Appétit!

  • Cat Calls

    Cat Calls

    Calling people is weird.  So glad we text stuff now.  Talking in real time gives me the willies. I feel like I should have flash cards or a TiVo remote in case I don’t know what to do.  But some people are pros at it.

    Example!

    In 2007 I was living in Newport with Watson, Chef, and Sunshine.  Our water heater and electrical system had busted and it was one of those beach town winters where you realize no one insulates anything because “it’s California!” but they forget a 50 degree night + wind has the potential to kill everyone.

    Sunshine tried to burn plants in order to keep everyone warm.  I lit candles for Catholic saints.  Watson cuddled with the television.  Chef paced back and forth to keep his body temp up.  The effects of all were middling.

    Chef snapped first.  He started screaming about inequities, American rights, and common decency.  He was so worked up he picked up a phone at 11pm and called our landlord.

    Now that actually might sound like the rational thing to do, but it’s absolutely not.

    As four 21 year old males, it was our goal to keep as far away from the landlord as possible, telephone or otherwise.  In fact, we’d only seen and talked to him once — briefly — when we viewed the apartment, and he’d done nothing but use a lot of swear words while talking about prevoius tenants and their wanton use of “wires”.

    Landlord Jack, to us, was the scary man at the end of the bar.

    Don’t look him in the eyes.

     

    The phone rang twice before Chef remembered this and hung up.

    But we wouldn’t let him off that easy.  All of us wanted to see Chef do what none of us could.  And all of us wanted the heat/electricity turned on.  So we goaded Chef to call back… on speakerphone.

    It rang, rang, rang… and thank God it went to voicemail.

    Now the outgoing message on the landlord’s machine was where things got strange.  It was longwinded, stilted in punctuation, and my transcript of it is somewhat shoddy due to the fact that I wrote it on paper with only the light of Catholic saints.  But… God’s honest truth… Landlord Jack’s answering machine went like this:

     

    “We’re unable to pick up the phone right now,

    But if you’re calling for Lloyd,

    It is our deepest regret to inform you

    that he passed away

    This last Thursday

    After his long battle with leukemia.

    He will be buried

    At Eternal Meadows

    On Sepulveda and Beach

    At 1pm Sunday.

    You may leave a message here

    with your fondest memories

    of Lloyd.

    Thank you so much for your concern

    He was the best cat

    We’ve ever known.”

     

    BEEP.

    Now, you’ve got to imagine that the entire time the phone was ringing, and even while the answering machine clicked on, Chef was rehearsing what sort of message he could leave.

    So at what point do you think his plan faded away / shattered into a million pieces?  Lloyd?  Passed away?  Luekemia?  Fondest memories?  Cat?

    And the implications…

    • Who else had called, specifically or incidentally, for Lloyd?
    • What type of phone calls did Lloyd field when he was still alive?
    • Where did he find the time? (especially towards the end, in between treatments)
    • Can anyone ever truly “know” a cat?

    BEEP

    Time’s up.  What’s your  message?

    I don’t know either.

    Chef held his hand over the phone and stared at us with bulged out eyes.  It was either terror or insanity.  Our laughter died down.

    Channeled by some unseen force, Chef began to leave his message:

     

    LLOYD…

    LLOYD

    YOU DIRTY SON OF A BITCH

    I KNOW

    I KNOW YOU’RE NOT DEAD

    I KNOW OK?

    GIVE ME MY $50

    SERIOUS

    THIS IS EDWARD

    FROM THE [spearmint] RHINO

    YOU’RE FOOLING

    NO ONE

    MEOW.

     

    And that was it.  Next day, swear to candles, our water heater and electricity were fixed.