A feline Jack London character
Our cat, in this unusually frigid weather, cleaves to us, literally, by my mother on the couch, and next to me at night. He is outraged by the horrible iciness on the front porch, and hasn't walked with us for days.
Absurd, the outrage over the young Iraqi journalist who flung his shoes at Shrub; no one in power who has abused said power deserves respect. Bush abrogated his long ago.
Absurd, the outrage over the young Iraqi journalist who flung his shoes at Shrub; no one in power who has abused said power deserves respect. Bush abrogated his long ago.
posted by isabelita at 11:40 AM
3 Comments:
But you holler at me when I throw shoes at the cat.
(just providing some integument between your riffs ;-) )
Our cat would have been a better figurehead than old Shrubwit.
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