Archive for Human Rituals

Feeding the Arts, Festival-Style

So the Des Moines Art Festival has just come to an end and I have to say this is one of the smartest summertime festivals the city of Des Moines has decided to graciously host. Despite the humans’ complaints of outrageously and deceptively priced snow cones of questionable quality, this festival is an excellent opportunity to bring artists together with the rest of society in a non-threatening, safe environment.

As the old adage says, “Give a poor man a fish, and he can eat for a day. Give a poor man a fishing pole and he can eat for a lifetime.”

Well why stop there? Give a crazy human some food and he can eat for a day, give a crazy a paint brush, and by Jove, that lunatic can pawn off some bizarre creations to the drunken crowds of amateur decorators looking to throw money at weird charity to stay in the high graces of their social circles, all while finding “interesting” pictures to match their interiors. These artists are now able to buy their own food and shelter, instead of running around scaring people in the streets. It’s a brilliant way to share the wealth.

As a cat, I’m not a connoisseur of anything I can’t eat. But this local set-up appears to work well for the humans, and I must say bravo, Des Moines. Bravo.

Des Moines Sculpture Park


On Civil Feline Rights

Well, well, well, my dear human friends. So you have finally recognized what we cats have been recognizing since the beginning of feline marriages: the *gasp* SAME-SEX MARRIAGE.

It appears as though a feline homeless shelter in NYC has announced its FIRST same-sex marriage. Congrats to the couple…but seriously, amongst cats this doesn’t even qualify as news.

Human politics is a fickle and insanity-mongering world, where marriage is allowed one day and taken away the next. No thanks, humans. Keep your marriages, your domestic P’s, and your sordid politics to yourself. We felines may have a few crackpots and zealots among us, but they live in the wild, not on cable TV.

I recall one day a few years back when I was “outted” on Facebook by a “concerned” human. Did my feline friends abandon me or try to “save” me? No. THAT would have been ridiculous. In fact, there was no comment made whatsoever. We cats may have a mean streak, but we judge each human based on their grooming skills and how much they feed us, not on what they do behind closed door (And to all humans: Please do close the doors. Cats don’t want to see that.)

Even now, the recognition of a feline marriage by humans is being done to RAISE AWARENESS for something or other. Just another example of the contaminated and diluted motives behind human reasoning!

Regardless, this story did tug on my furry, little heatstrings, so as I am feeling charitable I swiped the female’s credit card to make a small donation. Best of luck, Bruno & Solomon!

Human Adventure Meets the Feline Routine

The wave bed produces great peace of mind.

When taking on my professional writing gig at Mispeled, I was given some expert advice from our dear site administrator who is obviously well-acquainted with my blogging style and felt the need to share some of his opinions as to the quality and execution of my topics.

I was informed that I should write “good stuff,” not “boring stuff.” This so-called “boring stuff” dealt mostly with my daily routine and deviations from this routine, usually caused by my bipedal roommates. The humans are a fickle and unpredictable species, and often reek utter chaos over my daily habits. The site admin specifically told me not to write about the human’s vacations and how I spent my days during this time, as that was just dull filler.

Experiencing the c-nip tunnel of delight.

Well, I hate to burst the soppy delusions of any primate brains reading this, but our lives mostly are filler and to tell yourself otherwise can only be categorized as a special kind of denial. The human tenacity for denial is an incredible thing.

Anyway, If there is one thing I loathe, it’s a writer who ignores all criticism and advice from the outside world. So taking the site administrator’s advice into consideration, I wisely move forward with my new post: Human Vacations and My Daily Routine.

From my experience with humans, they are constantly dreaming about far off adventures to exotic countries or talking about getting away on a camping trip surrounded by nature. I find both of these schemes to be highly overrated. The idea of nature is all well and good, but it’s a bit too idealized for my realistic feline tastes. Nature is dirty and uncooperative and often covered with too many bugs, both of the flying and crawling kind. Now don’t mistake me here, because I do love the spontaneous apartment bug hunt, but in nature there are just too many bugs to really have an impact on the surroundings. When trying to catch a fly outdoors, you’ll be harassed by 10 of it’s buddies in the process and the fly will eventually be lost in the excessive expanse of nature before you can even get your paws on it. It’s insanity!

Lame human vacation postcard picture.

Plus, traveling in general, is a hassle. I watch the humans stress on the preparation of a trip, only to come back days later completely exhausted and smelling funny. So what is the point of this?

I’m pretty sure humans don’t need to remove themselves from a physical location in order to mentally check out. I see them doing it all the time. I won’t even get into how many pounds of premium tuna can be purchased with the amount needed to buy a plane ticket. (37)

Now let’s take a look at my daily routine. Even on a fairly habitual day, there are great nuances within the familiar that makes things new and exciting. Where are these variances found, you ask? In the freshness of my beverage, the occasional hairball, a glorious sunbath at the height of the day, an unprovoked attack on a sleeping human, the leftovers sitting on the table, and even a new box!

Yes, my names is Jeeves G. Fuzzenstein and I am a tourist in my 1000 feet of living space.

A new box!

Happy New Year.

I must have slept through the entire New Year’s fiasco. I woke up and the year had changed on me. Usually the humans do some kind of countdown, or at least announce that they accidentally missed the countdown. I don’t even think they were around when this arbitrary party excuse was happening. Thankfully, I missed any excitement that might have taken place. I suppose that doesn’t make for a very interesting blog, but this calm cat is just fine with that.

Ah yes, Halloween – Alice in Wonderland-style

I’m not going to claim ignorance in the human’s traditional celebration of Halloween, as no respectable and tech-savvy feline possibly would. There is just no point in feigning surprise over the bizarre customs celebrated by humans on the occasional, agreed-upon day. I’ve seen it before and I’m sure I will see it again. It is a holiday, much like Christmas, over 2,000 years old with its own colors, decorations, and strange displays of giving (in this case, candy) to others.

I could tell something was being cooked up in the female’s brain in the way of Halloween event planning for awhile now. Most recently, the cabinet containing liquor seemed to swell with anticipation. I usually abhor these human gatherings, but honestly, I was looking for a little excitement.

I helped out the female as she threw colored ribbons over pipes. She seemed a little stressed out, so I offered her a helpful claw to take some of the decorating responsibilities away from her. I was shocked at her ungracious attitude, but I suppose some people have to do everything themselves.

She fastened her rolling contraptions to her feet, just as the party was starting. With that element of danger in place, I secured my chair for the evening and settled in to be a passive observer to the human freak show that was about to begin.

alice from a cat's eyeI recognized the male by his manly stance. He was loosely dressed as the main character, Alice, but lacked the grace of a young lady and appeared to be rather demented. Then there was the gay unicorn, several card people, the Cheshire cat (who fully lacked the grace of a cat), the armed man in red pajamas, a Viking, a slave Leia (from the popular science fiction movie called Star Wars, I was informed), a beaten vintage woman, a man with a fuzzy tale attached to his suit jacket, a detective, a time-obsessed bunny, and the maker of the popular party Jewlick, Jeremy, you old so-and-so.

I watched as fake bands formed and broke up, croquet matches were started and abandoned, flamingos strangled, cucumber sandwiches consumed, and the DRINK ME sign carefully complied with.

All in all, it was a typical tea party, without much to remark on, but I do wish the female had warned me that the roses where freshly painted. I was cleaning the red out of my white until morning.