|Rudolph "Dolphie" Creakasdottir Berman-Ramus (dolphie) wrote,|
@ 2008-06-01 19:56:00
|Current mood:|| accomplished|
|Current music:||"If you go carrying pictures of Chairman Meow..."|
The Itty Bitty Shitty Kitty Committee
As you know, Girl has a metric shit ton of cats. This is despite the fact that there is only one fat kitty in the house, because we're not talking mass here-- we're talking HEAVINESS. And there are several weighty members, ifyaknowwhatimean. We have decided that, since we outnumber the humans 7:2, we should be in charge. Thus, we have our own government. Girl has taken to calling us The Itty Bitty Shitty Kitty Committee. That is a demeaning name, but it's OK, because she is our slave who works to buy us food and has to clean up our poops, so whatever she has to say to console herself is of no consequence to me.
Anyway, on to our list of officers. You might be surprised to find that I am not the President. That would be this sterling example of feline presidential shittiness, s(h)itting on his throne:
Yes, it's Jjjettt. He is by far the meanest kitten you will ever meet. He squints at you with distaste and utter contempt.
He will harm you if he can, he will use his executive powers to mess you up bad. He demands a blood sacrifice from Boy on a daily basis, and he doesn't even have claws on his front feet! Yes, he has been subjected to foot binding to keep him down, but all it does is make him mouthy. He will bite you in your face, bitches, I am not kidding. Watch him rear back like a cobra, blurry from the motion of his vicious maw flying at you just before you are maimed for life:
Grrrr! Maybe one day his toofuses will fall out like mine and he will be defenseless when Girl tries to kiss him. That would be hilarious.
I myself am the Chairwoman Emeritus. You can call me Chairman Meow:
In this photo, I am overexposed, as one always is when one is a famous feline goddess and high government official. My job is to make sure that everyone in the house is awake at 6am, regardless of whether or not they have to work that day. Generally, I do this by turning over the garbage can next to the bed or batting the dangling bit on the bedside lamp with my brilliantly white paw so that it tinkles musically. Repeatedly. Until waking occurs. Sometimes, Girl threatens me with death when I do this, but any great leader must worry about assassination attempts by frustrated, angry losers.
The next committee member is actually new to the household. His name is Tommy and he is my newest boytoy and lickin' stick. Boy gave him to Girl for her birthday last year. Actually, what really happened is that I used my mind control powers to get Boy to bring me home a boytoy by convincing him that Girl needed another kitten. Now, if you ever disbelieved in my massive powers of persuasion and psychometric mastery, you can longer cling to your skepticism: BOY THOUGHT GIRL NEEDED ANOTHER KITTEN. For real? For REAL.
So he picked out the sickliest, most demented, sideways headed, worm-infested, half-invisible from starvation, socially maladjusted weirdo that ever walked on four legs. I say that even knowing that sometimes Girl gets down on her hands and knees to pick up something I knocked over. Tommy weighed only 5 pounds! He was on Death's Doorstep, and then he walked through it into Kitty Hell, aka Girl's house. But he truly likes it here because he has unlimited foods, and boy, does he take advantage of it. He loves foods even more than I do, and gobbles up dry kibble like it is manna from Heaven. He is very, very fat now, and shiny, and worships me as the goddess I am, keeping my grotty ears clean and licking all the spots I can't reach. Witness his delectable obesity:
See him from the other side, for he has a Hot Side and a Cool Side, just like the planet Mercury (and he weighs about the same... I do so love a fat boyfriend!):
Unfortunately, FatBabyTom loves everyone. It's a major character defect and one I've tried to break him of ever since I seduced him and made him my boyfriend. Sometimes I hiss at him just to show him that even the most fabulous kitties are MEAN and NASTY, that is part of their native charm. BabyTom will not hiss, even when I bite him in the eye. It's a losing battle, and alas, I am aging, and do not have the energy to bite through his eye just to make a point. This is why his job in the committee is Chairman of the SubCommittee on Chair Warming and Sergeant-at-Arms. He will sit on your chair, or right on you, and if you disrupt any meeting, he will run away and hide and cry, so you will feel guilty and start behaving yourself. I do not behave myself ever, as you know, though I do peculiarly enjoy being sat on. It's warm:
Notice that we are holding hands in this picture, and transforming into our true forms. White Paw Twins Power, activate! Form of... Queen of the Universe! Shape of... bizarre dork with good taste in women!
He can warm up even a very large, leathery chair, becaue his ass is huge and radiates accumulated DolphieLuv like the Sun:
However, there is trouble in paradise, a worm in the apple, so to speak. I am concerned because whenever I get a new boytoy and Harley cruises him and turns him into teh ghey, like he did with Jjjett and Maceo. I saw them snuggling and I almost projectile vomited onto them:
But when I confronted them about this, and the possibilities of their gayness together they both said NO WAY:
Which brings me to my next committee members. These two kitties form a subcommittee called the Feline American Gay Caucus, aka FAG-C. They refuse to be interviewed for the press because of perceived gay-bashing. They have gotten pretty nasty about it with the press, assaulting paparazzi:
They turn their (greasy black oily unlicked) backs on their own people:
And flash their naughty bits at the camera to cause governmental scandals:
If it were up to me, I'd pull a Robespierre on him and then he would look like this:
And then, off with his head! But then there would be two parts to him, which is worse than just one, so for now, there will be no decapitations. FOR NOW.
There are two kittens in the house left. They have formed the subcommittee Felines Utilitizing Full and Fluffy Afros, aka FUFFA. Maceo likes to show off how nappy his chest hair is:
Nasty! Pick that shit out, son, you look like the shag carpet from Girl's parents' basement, or I will mail you to Madagascar, where there are snakes who will eat kittens whole, even gross kittens who can't lick out their own fuffa and must be held down by Girl and combed out by force, mewing pitifully:
I have the box all picked out, but I have NOT punched air holes in the top of it!
The other member of the committee is Tansy, aka The Devil's Toupee:
Seriously, she looks like something you'd buy in the Halloween Store. She is worthy of being on the Itty Bitty Shitty Kitty Committee, though, because she is very shitty to everyone pretty much all the time, except Girl. Thus, not only is she a pissant, but she has bad taste in friends. However, lameass morons do tend to enjoy each other's company, and they have similar hairstyles, so it's not surprising that they would gravitate towards one another.
When asked about his and Tansy's role in the committee, Maceo responded, NO COMMENT:
So, that is the basic workings of our little committee. Someday, when we figure out Doorknob Technology, we will bring our glorious revolution to all the little kitties out there, even your precious widdle ickle bickle angel kitteh. Yes, even yours, might could be rearing back like a cobra and biting through your eye as you sleep! Now think, is it worth it to spend that extra money on the nice wet food, knowing that you could be first up against the wall when the revolution comes?
Think about it,
Feline's Republic of Kitteh
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Congratulations on your Emeritus position. The committee is lucky to have you. May I say you're looking fabulous as always? And I also very much approve of your taste in new lickin' sticks. Tommy looks like a great big ol' Barry White shiny furry man of love.
As always, first among your adorers (one day to be seated at your right hand in the firmament),
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