Kitty Livin'

Ah, to live the life of a cat.

No responsibilities. No job. No psychological angst. No deep philosophical quandaries.

They truly lead a charmed existence. They wake up around 11:30 a.m. and then take their first nap at noon. They eat at 6:00 every night - two scoops of Purina Cat Chow (Indoor Formula). Then they take their evening poop in a giant plastic poop-dome full of the very finest kitty litter Fresh-Step has to offer.

When their adopted owner comes home, he or she always pounds on their bellies just the way they like. They roll and crawl and mewl with infinite pleasure.

Sure, they're occasionally forced to pose for ridiculous and demeaning photographs.

But that's a small price to pay for free room and board and constant affection.

In the evenings, they crawl into bed with their adopted parents and plant themselves firmly in the very middle of the mattress (the very softest and warmest spot). Sure, sometimes inconsiderate people force them to endorse over-the-counter cold medication...

Or Meow Mix kitty snacks...

...but such minor inconveniences are just par for the course.

Kitties of all sizes are essentially the same. They all sleep close to 18 hours each day and still manage to retain that sleek athletic physique. Due to their fierce appearance, they have nothing at all to fear from anyone or anything else.

Yes, the life of a cat is to be envied. I believe it was the wise Thomas O'Malley who once said, "Everybody wants to be a cat." Or was it Berlioz the Kitten? No, I'm fairly certain it was O'Malley.

We could learn a lot from kitties. Follow their example and just go with the flow. Let the problems and prickly pickles of life roll off your fuzzy, spring-loaded back. Forget those high-dollar entertainment systems. Just play with a milk twisty on the kitchen floor for a few hours. Hey! Where'd it go?!

And always put some effort into your appearance. Try to look more regal, even majestic, at all times. No matter what anyone says, never alter your expression even the slightest bit. Lick your lips subtly if someone displeases you, and lay your ears flat against your skull if you're really mad.

Let go and have some fun! Right around bedtime, just cut loose and run across the house as fast as you can, producing gutteral growl/meow noises as you go.

But more importantly, be proud of yourself. If we learn nothing else from kitties, we should remember that we are better than everyone else, and we should always act accordingly.

28 Posts Later

"The satire is biting, and so are the zombies." Mmm, God, I love me a good zombie zeugma.

Britain is struggling to repopulate its devastated urban areas, virus-ridden corpses strew the streets, hideously mutilated skeletal skin-bags are poised just behind every half-open closet door, and two innocent children are just bustin' to go exploring in this post-bioapocalyptic wonderland! Bring on the really fast, extremely angry zombies!

Treat yourself this holiday season (I refer here to Memorial Day, but really any holiday will do), and go see this blood-spattered horror-fest with a touch of Greek tragedy thrown in for us nerdophytes who desperately need some esoteric allusions to make us feel clever. Cowardice! Betrayal! Viral infection through an ill-advised kiss! It's all here, and at the risk of sounding like Ron Popeil, but wait, there's more!

Zombie films have long suffered from a poetically appropriate lethargy and decay that lumbers along like the creatures they feature. They have no plot skeletons: contrived situations and one-dimensional characters rot their innards and cause a premature "death on film." And just when you think the gory, gut-slinging action is about to really burst forth like a fresh body from the grave, the tiny, fleeing band of zombie refugees finds some new hole to hide in, and all we as audience members get to quench our zombie-lust is a few bangs and groans from the other side of the titanium door. Oh, please.

But not this little slice of zombie cake! The action is unrelenting and horribly uncomfortable! During the film's opening sequence, I actually had to avert my eyes for a moment. ME! I'm the guy who sat through The Exorcist with a bowl of Chef Boyardee Spaghetti-O's, laughing hysterically the entire time. And it may be because of my irrational fear of crowds (agoraphobia, for those of you who think I'm making up disorders), but the scene in the quarantine building with all the biting and screaming just about put me over the zombie edge.

I don't want to splatter you with spoilers, so I'll bring my homage to a close. But let me say that the makers of this little gem have managed to do what no zombie filmmakers have done before: they made a sequel better than the original. So go get drenched in zombie sweat! It's well worth the horrible nightmares.

By the Power of Greyskull!

I wholeheartedly agree with Forky. Do yourself a favor and go see this film. There are really no words to adequately describe it. Suffice to say that Jim Broadbent has a car accident involving an angry swan . . . and that's about the least unusual event in the film.