A Study of Lesser Beings: Dance Moms

[Right] Averting my eyes from the Always Tragic human condition.

“There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery.”

Filthy Humans, I have recently stumbled upon Programming that I find most illuminating when it comes to explaining your Brutish Psyche. My Current Owner often leaves Me alone for the day – as he should – and I thus have ample opportunity to sample what passes as “Culture” from your Disgusting Brood.

Frankly, the Beasts on this Dance Moms programme intrigues.

At first, my Superior mind boggled at the behavior of the Lummoxes toward their Spawn. Were their vocal chords insufficient to scream and abuse their own children? Why did they feel the need to sublet the Duty to an even larger Lummox?

Then, it struck Me – it was another example of the Sloth of your Filthy Brood. With the Largest Lummox watching over five Spawns, it allowed the other five Smaller Lummoxes to feast. Judging from the size of the Spawns, it also seems like the Smaller Lummoxes were feasting upon their portions.

While these methods of the Lummoxes are Crude and Undignified, I am always in Favor of the Strong preying upon the Weak.

When I was but a Kitten, I was quickly weaned off my mother’s Teat, and these Human Spawns seem to be of at least five or six years. Why, that’s a perfectly appropriate age for them to be foraging amongst the Streets, using their charm to receive free Italian dinners from bistros and to befriend alley cats.

Likewise, the Lummoxes seem uninterested with their Spawn, except when the Spawn can bring baubles of distinction back. Being of Superior Feline stock, my Mother was satisfied with Rodentia and Squirrel pelts, but the Lummoxes instead seem to covet the folly Human materials of gold and silver.

As Crafty as the Lummoxes might think Themselves, I feel that their plan will eventually backfire. For Starters, I find them to be adding too much Fat Girth Mass, as opposed to the lean, supple Mass of a majestic Superior Being. For each pound I gain, an equivalent Human Muscle would be 20 pounds.

Secondly, their Spawns will not always be Spawns. I remember even a brief period of Rebellion against my Mother, and she was quite stern but Fair with a Dignified Being such as myself. With their increased Girth, the Lummoxes will not be able to defend themselves from their more nimble Spawn, much like how the Simians of Congo rose up against the Filthy Diamond-Stealing Humans.

Dante is the cat of Steve. You can follow him on Facebook; he refuses to get a Twitter account, since he does not want to be associated with “filthy avian creatures.”

Steps for Shedding Your Disgusting, Slovenly Pounds

[Right] Myself, at a Majestic 18 pounds. My Bust would make Katy Perry and Sofia Vergara envious.

“If the present world go astray, the cause is in you, in you it is to be sought.”

Filthy Humans, I have been asked if I have any Resolutions for this coming year. From absorbing what I have about your Customs, I understand Resolutioning is quite popular with your miserable species.

However, Felines mature faster than Filthy Humans – Although I am 17 in “conventional” Human Years, my actual wisdom is 88 years. When you are a Feline, each new day represents an Opportunity for reflection and advancement, and the only Resolutions made are those against sloth and envy.

[Right] A much slimmer 8 pounds - Just call me H.A.M.

When I decided to shed my excess girth, I simply did so. You can use the Rodent on your computer to click the above two pictures of my Glorious Body. (Truth: A Filthy Human songwriter once penned that my body is a wonderland, a rare moment of Understanding and Perception on the part of your species.)

In a little more than one human year, I shed 11 pounds, moving from a rotund 18 pounds to a svelte seven. To be fair, I looked like a Sexy Beast at both weights, but I must admit that a slimmer countenance is easier to maintain in the arid summer months.

Because I realize that Filthy Humans are not as adept at shedding mass, I will offer these tips, simply because I am feeling peckish:

Stick to the major food groups: Tuna, Ocean Whitefish, Turkey, Chicken and Supper Supreme. My Current Owner has little in the way of common sense, decorum, quick-wit manners, intelligence, looks, moral integrity, class, style, courage, ingenuity, creativity, subtly, nerve, resources, fortitude or cunning, and an abundance of lethargy, incoherence, sloth, insecurities, envy, gloom, tyranny, jealousy, perversion and cowardice. However, he is sufficient at providing me food.

A liquid or semi-liquid diet is the best for a fluid mind, and digestive track. If my Current Owner does not provide me with food of a Liquid nature, I simply do not remove myself from my Fleece Lair. I have trained him to properly cut and wet my food so that it may whet my appetite.

Frequently purge your nethers. I find a good rule of Paw is to visit the Waste Box at least 15 to 20 times a day. Remember, your Current Owner exists to service you – a well-trained Owner will delight in cleaning your Waste Box, whether it is full of Litter, or one of the White Waste Monsters that Filthy Humans seem to favor.

Exercise as little as possible. Any time spent exercising could be better spent taking an afternoon Respite. Exercising is a Scheme by Filthy, Sweaty Humans to sell more Shake Weights and Jack Racks.

Dante is the cat of Steve. You can follow him on Facebook; he refuses to get a Twitter account, since he does not want to be associated with “filthy avian creatures.”

Answering The Questions of Inferior Beings

[Left] Ah, to be young again! I was a spry cat of 14 when this picture was taken, looking expectantly at The World, and not expecting its rude hand of dismissal and cold shoulder of surrender. Credit Amanda Greenwell.

“He listens well who takes notes.”

Greetings, Filthy Humans. Since my last take to The Internet, I have been besieged by requests for Guidance.

While I would normally ignore such pithy requests from the squabbling masses, the festive nature of Holidays has caused me to reflect, and soften my Iron Will. Make haste with your prattling, Filthy Humans!

Dear Dante, iz u single 4 realz? I kno some kewl kats who mite b intrested. -B$

Madam, I doubt I could copulate with any Feline that would count you amongst its Friends. Tell your Feline Friends that the only things longer than their tails are tales of their wantonness and depravity. Your cats are the type of Felonious Felines to come to any name called, as long as I layered their paws with kibble.

Dear Dante, best wishes this holiday season. – Potter Stewart, alpha male cat of Doyle Street, Providence, RI

Potter! You old carpetbagger. I’m glad to hear a fellow Alpha is doing well this holiday season. You are truly Salt of the Earth. You and I both know that Censorship reflects society’s lack of confidence in itself. (And I must note with dismay that my Current Owner has seemed to let his subscription to Cat Fancy lapse. What a detestable brute.)

Go Dante! Your astute feline commentary aptly reflects the accumulated wisdom of your 17 years. We applaud your foresight and motivation in learning to type when most cats are content to waste their lifetimes chasing balls of yarn and killing mice. We look forward to following your progress in your dotage. Signed, Alicia Condon, Rusty Goldman (Canine Chow chow, age 11), Philip Morris (Canine Corgi, age 5), Oliver & Sampson, fellow felines, ages 12 and 3 respectively.

Madam, I know you only speak for yourself, when you mention that I have the foresight in learning how to type. My fellow Felines in your household are busy with other parts of The Operation and don’t busy themselves with typing. Does this talk sound sinister to you, and leave you with a pit in your stomach, Filthy Human? … It should. Since you have had the foresight to write to me, I will give you this sole hint that may bring you Solace in a future time of need – never trust a Canine when a Feline follows.

Dante is the cat of Stephen. You can follow him on Facebook; he refuses to get a Twitter account, since he does not want to be associated with “filthy avian creatures.”

A Treatise Upon the Detestable Brood of Filthy Humans

[Left] Expressing my dissatisfaction with Filthy Humans whilst upon a pillow of another Inferior Species.

“Consider your origins: You were not made to live as brutes, but to follow virtue and knowledge.”

Greetings, Filthy Humans. Your vile species should do well to heed my words – For far too long, I have watched your Detestable Brood reign over this spheroid, scarcely reflecting upon the wisdom of your Feline superiors.

Whilst my Current Owner is out and about doing his silly “job,” as you Filthy Humans are wont to do, I am left to play, as the proverbial saying implies. Leaving a Working Processor in my paws is a recipe for idol slaying, as I shall hoist your Detestable Brood upon its own petard.

I shall let you Filthy Humans in upon a small sliver of the wisdom of Felines – for years, We have been secretly controlling your malleable population. I shall let you ponder the enormity of the situation for a moment…

Has your inefficient grey skull matter had enough time to process? Even now, I imagine you remarking to a loved one, “What is this Insolent Feline blathering about? We are clearly the Superior Beings!”

What folly. Filthy Humans, just realize that it is We who hold all the power, and your Detestable Brood realizes it deep within the nether regions of its consciousness, much as that laggard Garfield realizes that it is He that is the problem, not Mondays.

I posit to you, in the hypothetical battle for species superiority – Who is it that feeds who? Who provides the shelter, the water, and is seemingly content with just the most meager of affection in return? Most importantly, who cleans after who’s Waste Box?

Filthy Humans, the sooner you realize Our superiority, the sooner I can impart wisdom upon you. My first suggestion: Desist with attempting to mimic our luscious Feline coats, because it reflects the wanton trashiness of your decrepit Soul.

Dante is the cat of Stephen. You can follow him on Facebook; he refuses to get a Twitter account, since he does not want to be associated with “filthy avian creatures.”

An Ongoing Struggle of Dedication

The weird thing about my blog is that the readership numbers (allegedly) continue to grow even as I don't blog as much. A less vain writer would take this as an indictment of his writing ability, but after running my own news site for (almost) a year, I realize that there is a lot of value in an extensive back catalog. (In a true sign of the height of my own vanity, I often find myself clicking through past entries I've done, thanks to the “You Might Like...” prompting at the bottom of each of my entries.)

Anyway. My own effort on this has wavered, obviously. I've almost restarted about five times in the ensuing, unplanned five month vacation of mine from writing. In fact, it's bizarre to look back at my last entry to realize that the last time I wrote was the first week I got my cat, which has now been with me for three months. (As a status update on the cat, he really enjoys my new apartment much more, since the windows are much lower to the ground and he can perch there. He's still really, really old.)

At least for now, there should be posts queued up for these next two weeks – another one on Thursday, and Monday, Wednesday and Friday of next week. Beyond that, I'll have to see. If I continue writing, it will probably be on more evergreen topics, since the demands of work often don't leave me with time to do posts on the fly. I'm still a big fan of my workplace and what not, but it does take a full 40 to 50 hours a week, as compared to past journalism jobs, where I did get a bit more time to coast. (On the plus side, there are few things more joyous to me than being able to set my own hours.)

Addressing some of the comments that piled up in my absence: People are really quite into Kristen Wiig. I haven't seen Bridesmaids, but I kind of want to – it looks funny. However, to refine my earlier arguments on Wiig, it's not that I don't think she's funny. I just think she's way, way overused on Saturday Night Live. It's a habit Lorne Michaels can lapse into at times; some of the Jimmy Fallon years, he is in every single sketch too. But now that he has his own show and the humor isn't as forced, I've come to enjoy him much more. I imagine Wiig will be the same thing – I'll probably like her “Best Of” DVD, and whatever future endeavors she's into.