I’ve had to learn to accept the fact that I’m a cat person in more ways than one. First, I have been living with cats for years. The current cat is Kamele (Kah-MEH-lay), a black leaping female monkey-cross whose other names are “No” and “Get-off-me.” She just got spayed about two weeks ago at a vet clinic in Renton.
While Anitra and I were waiting to be able to pick the precious kitty up from the clinic, we hung out at, in order, a Starbucks, the Renton Uwajimaya, a McDonald’s, the Renton Uwajimaya, the Starbucks.
It reminded me of visions I had in the 1980s that, in the future, the galaxy would be linked by teleportation devices distributed throughout. You could go effortlessly from planet to planet to planet, and they would all consist of malls, Starbucks, supermarkets, McDonald’s, Applebees, nail salons, Target stores, Burger Kings, Subway sandwich shops, 7-Elevens — everywhere. Since you could teleport everywhere, there would be no need for parking lots, so the stores could all be close together and fill up all the available areas of all the planets. No matter where you were in the galaxy, there would be a Starbucks you could walk to in a minute.
Second, there was my Zen Goth period. This was a period in the early ’60s when, as a newly starting teenager, I meditated, wore black and contemplated death a lot. I also developed a habit of moving like a cat. It came about naturally because of my affinity for geometry. I moved efficiently in beelines. I stepped over and around things, never on them. I tried as much as possible to enter and exit buildings by windows. So, I was another kind of cat person. A kind that cemented my reputation for being an example of neurodiversity.
After about 15 years of this, I successfully broke the habit of acting like a cat. Because, you know, people were beginning to talk. I do miss it from time to time, still. I regret giving it up just to make people comfortable. I mean, it wasn’t like I was going to rip up their upholstery or their carpets. I was very well trained. I also never hocked up a hairball, not once.
Changing the subject entirely: The Chinese reaction to having its spy balloon shot down in U.S. waters off South Carolina was interesting.
“How dare you violate the sovereignty of our weather balloon just because it was over your sovereign nation and spying on you somehow?”
I consider that the high point in the week’s news, which otherwise consists of natural disasters, shootings, the never-ending war in Ukraine, layoffs, Madonna’s face and, this morning, the news that Mike Pence has been subpoenaed in connection with the Department of Justice investigation of the Jan. 6, 2021, coup attempt.
Pence, who has written in a book that Trump was just guilty of listening to the wrong lawyers, is likely to decline to testify on the ground that Trump still has executive privilege, even though Pence’s own refusal to stop the congressional certification of the 2020 election results meant Trump isn’t president now. How do you have executive privilege when not an executive, is what I want to know.
I have often mentioned here that I like to study the mechanics of stupidisms, but some leave me stumped. How does this one work?
I always thought no vice president could top Dan “What a Waste It Is to Lose One’s Mind” Quayle, but Pence has definitely done it. He gets chased around the Capitol building by ninnies screaming, “Hang Mike Pence!” but he doesn’t want to testify against the guy who sent the screaming ninnies because the guy listened to the wrong lawyers, and “that’s protected information under executive privilege” of an out-of-office executive. None of that makes any sense.
I’m going to need to revise everything I thought I knew about stupidology in order to account for this.
Pence shouldn’t be allowed to run around loose with a brain like that. He could poke someone’s eye out.
Well, at least he’s not as bad as Trump or DeSantis. I’m actually hoping Pence runs for and wins the 2024 Republican presidential nomination, to rest my strained nerves.
Thank goodness I have the company of a leaping cat monkey-cross to set me at ease.
Read more of the Feb. 15-21, 2023 issue.