Question 14: Crap I'm Doin'

I received this question recently from Lisa Torres:

"What are you up to these days?"


Need I elaborate on the subject? I wouldn’t want to conjure up any envy on your end.

Every day for me is a siesta sprinkled with long baths and human laps (just about the only thing humans are good for as far as I’m concerned). When it’s cold outside I hardly blink at the stupid, two-legged ones scurrying maniacally here and there outside my window. Nope. I just recline on my cozy heating pad, only to get up on a whim to dine on a little savory gravy.

Of course, now that Spring is here and warmer temperatures are approaching, my wary eye is slightly lifted to an encroaching sun with perhaps a suave leap and supersonic swipe or two at a fluttery, aloof victim. But even they are hardly amusing.

On the rare occasion that I’m feeling a little saucy do I get up to Twitt at the many geniuses with their ever-so-ridiculous boasting of self-importance and utter ignorance about mundane subjects and events that I couldn’t care a lick about.

Alas, they need me. How else can they know what losers they are?

So, that’s what I’m up to these days. And you? Working hard? Yeah, whatever.


Until the next stupid human,
Miles

Question 13: Why I (Don't) Use Twitter

Okay, people, I'm in the mood to answer one of your questions. (If you're looking for questions 1-12, they're on my old blog.)

I received the following from Dave Dube:

"Thanks for the follow my new friend! Why do YOU use Twitter?"

First of all, Dave Dube (funny how that rolls off the tongue, even a rough one like mine), I ain't dumb enough to think that the above message, received by email, was personal. Even though you do call me, "friend".

Friend? Sorry, Dave. Never had an itch that you scratched, a scare that you soothed, or a hunger you fed. Maybe humans make cheap friends. But for cats, it's gotta be for reals, and you ain't done nuthin' for me. Except to send me an impersonal message vaguely disguised as something worth reading. I get those from Nigeria all the time.

But now onto Twitter. So, the message you sent me through this Twitter thingy, would that be called a "Tweet"? I think I'm right, although I wish I weren't. 'Cause that would make the site's name, "Tweeter", wouldn't it? So the message you sent really ought to be called a "Twitt", wouldn't ya say?

To answer your question, I'm gonna give you the 3 top reasons I DIDN'T sign up with Twitter. Starting with the last reason.

(3) I didn't sign up to make friends. Ain't too many other cats on Twitter. Plus, I make friends VERY sparingly. Especially with humans. And I'd never consider some guy in Toledo who tells me he's an expert on everything from inventing the Internet to healing marital relationships to be my new bestest friend. Seems like you're a dime a dozen, my brotha. Join the thronging masses.

(2) I didn't sign up so I could become a Twitter addict. Twitter's okay, as such things go, but certainly there's more to life, people. If Twittin's the most meaningful part of your day, you need help. In other words: Get a frickin' life, losers!

(1) I didn't sign up so I could make my very own "Twitter advice site". Have you seen one of these monstrosities? Twittin's pretty basic. I mean, the dumbest cat on the planet (you know, the type that climbs to the top of something, like a tree, only to get scared and completely stuck once at the top?) could Twitt. So don't frickin' insult me with your supposed Twitter prowess on a site that could have been designed by your kid. At age two. And certainly don't expect me to make one! If you can't figure it out on your own, I can't help ya.

Well, that's about it for now. Thanks for Twittin' me there, Dave. I can't wait to keep on a Twittin' on that there Twitter. 'Cause it's all I care about. Twitter, that is. So I can keep on-a-Twittin'. On Twitter.

Until the next stupid human,
Miles