opinions and the internet

Perefronisi, I do sincerely appreciate your kind gesture of waiting to post this until today in an attempt to gracefully allow me a “cooling off” period, so to speak.

The temperature last night was rather warm, and once I opened the proper combination of windows to best utilize the northwest to southeast breeze, the ambient temperature in my home dropped by a considerable factor, allowing me a period of time in which to sit in earnest reflection and contemplate the nature of not only my actions, but those of my silly cats. They are just the goofiest little things!
While some believe that cats are “un-trainable”, I would have to disagree, somewhat. A valid point that while the feline species is less interested in chasing thrown balls or retrieving tossed twigs, branches or sticks, they are quite adept at playing poker. I must have dealt myself at least 7 losing hands in a row, at one point dealing Snookie (the girl kitty) a royal flush, followed by an aces over kings full house to Booger Butt ( the boy kitty.) Well. All things being equal, I will NEVER play cards with those little thugs ever again while I am in one of your most graciously donated cooling off periods. Perhaps I will adopt a Portuguese man of war and attempt to teach it to play rugby. I hear they have a knack for controlling a scrum and denying forward progress beyond the 22 meter point. My grandmother, Luella Mae Crotchbone , (may she rest in peace) once trained a parakeet to chirp the financial section of the New York Times in – are you ready for this – MORSE CODE. I know! ! Amazing!! While most people had difficulty interpreting the technical jargon associated with stock market activity, Consuelo McChirpy Chirp (aforementioned aviary intellectual) not only easily interpreted the difficult data, but was able to retain it for a period of 7 days, providing valuable information to Granny as she attempted to navigate the tricky and often befuddling world of stocks and bonds. Unfortunately, she never lived to enjoy the fruits of Consuelo’s labor, as she was killed in a unusual accident – you see, Granny was very slow and had poor depth perception, and while visiting Iceland, she was run over by a glacier. I know, right – when does THAT ever happen?!

Anywho, all things being equal, I do think that, should I ever decide on a career in animal training, I most likely will pursue teaching pigeons to sing country western ballads. Thoughts?

My nipples have been acting up a bit lately, and I think I’ll need to schedule an appointment with a specialist to see if perhaps they are reacting to advanced levels of sodium in the air. Yes, you are correct in questioning the plausibility of increased airborne sodium levels as a catalyst in nipple health – I also am perplexed, but in Yugoslavia, health care professionals are reporting increased cases of enlarged nipples among the population due to levels of wind salt reaching a rather low concentration of 13 percent. (Most would concur that anything above 4 percent is not advantageous to nipple health, while simultaneously conceding that at 12 percent, human life should by all rights become extinct, yet here we are, so go figure!).

Again, Shirley, I thank you. Your stellar wisdom has, once again, instigated a paradigm shift of heretofore unimaginable proportions. I am a new person, and I owe it all to you!

Now, if I can only teach my kitty to prepare potatoes au gratin with meatloaf, life will be perfect!

Perhaps you would be so kind as to prepare an audio primer on feline culinary technique? I would certainly appreciate it. Only, this time, go with the more masculine deeper voice – it becomes you much more than the feminine register in which this brilliant expose on whatever the hell it is you’re talking about was delivered in.