Olsen Twin Immunity

Mary Kate Olsen, who was the first person called by the masseuse who found Heath Ledger "unresponsive" (translation: croaked), has apparently not been all that cooperative with authorities who would like to interview her. This according to the fine, witty folks over there at The New York Post No, the waif-life, insect eyed, former child star of Full House has asked for "immunity from prosecution" before she will talk to the police. Hmmm. Interesting.

See, now I don't know why this has taken so long. After Heath turned up all John Belushi and stuff, and as the story came out, a lot of things just didn't make sense at first. Things like the masseuse calling Mary Kate Olsen before dialing 911. And while that DOES sound odd, you have to think about it in the context of rich people who party and use drugs.

First of all, apparently Mary-Kate and Heath knew each other because they had something in common. Partying. Oh, and they both smoked Marlboro Reds, which I'm sure is relevant in some circles. Partiers, the hard core partiers, have an unspoken code that is as strong as 'Semper Fi' is to a Marine. That code is to always cover each other's ass. Hard core partiers are like the MacGyver's of the Underworld. They can know that a fellow party buddy is in trouble and concoct just about any type of situation, story or device that will help out said buddy. And they must have a phone tree system in place that rivals the best of them. If a fellow druggie is in need, they can get in touch with each other in a flash. It's amazing.

But the point is that Heath had, allegedly, had "issues" with "substances" before and there was a lot of ass covering going on in previous instances. So, this might just have been, "Oh, great. Heath won't get up. Here we go again. I know the drill. Where's that phone tree list?" Next thing you know, the troops are over cleaning him up and sending him on his way. Only that day, it didn't go quite like that.

Think of it like this: Masseuse goes in, there's her client. Naked. Lying there. Could just be sleeping soundly. (Remember, you're not expecting him to be dead. Sleeping is the first thing that would come to mind.) Sleeping that soundly is a little strange. Maybe something is wrong. But what if it's not? How close can she get before it gets weird? Tries to remember the protocol for situations when it's appropriate to approach and possibly poke a naked client to determine responsivity. Draws a blank. What to do? What to do? Sees dude's cell. Looks for something or someone. A-ha! Mary-Kate! That Olsen twin. I'll call her!

Now, while that may sound nuts, at that point, you're really searching for anything that is familiar and normal to grasp onto. And I realize that "familiar and normal" doesn't exactly describe Mary-Kate Olsen to a tee, but you'll take what you can get at times like those. (She could also be described as being difficult "to grasp", but again, you'll take what you can get.)

And it was Mary-Kate's security folk (the rich, former child stars of the world always have security folk at their beck and call, don't you know?) who actually arrived before the paramedics did. They might not seem like the most useful people to have show up immediately, but you have to understand the mind of a druggie and how things work in DruggieLand.

They're a sorry bunch all right, but they look out for each other. They are constantly cleaning up after one another. If someone stays out too late partying and then someone else can't wake their ass up in the morning, they call the druggie friends and they come over and help get the druggie up. Because if they don't help them out, then it could get out that the druggie is a druggie and that's never good for anyone. And if the druggie is famous and wants to avoid being known as the famous druggie, then situations like a guy not waking up for his massage become a little more urgent.

There's a lot of secrecy in the drug world as far as what goes on in there. There's not a lot of secrecy that those involved IN the drug world are on drugs. Oh, THEY think that they've fooled everyone. But as we were all looking at Mary-Kate Olsen a week before she went into treatment for an eating disorder when she appeared to weigh approximately 45 pounds soaking wet, her people all said, "She's fine. She's just tired." Yeah, I'd agree. DEATH does look tired like that, I'll give them that one. Spare me. From what I can tell, before she went into treatment, that girl's diet must have consisted solely of dust and Chiclets. Oh, but she's fine! OK. Whatever.


I guess ol' Heath had some Oxycontin that was obtained "illegally" and they still haven't found out where he got it. Hmmm...Hey, Mary Kate....do YOU know where Heath got the Oxycontin? Whaaaattt? You want immunity from prosecution? Oh, well, I'm sure that you had NOTHING to do with it and you'd probably be of little or no help to our investigation at all. Next!" I wonder if SHE asked for the immunity or if she has a lawyer who asked for her. I'd give her credit if she did it on her own, as it doesn't look like a single coherent idea could go through that brain once a week, let alone at a time when it would be appropriate. Oh, wait, I take some of that back. She probably knows where all of the Starbucks are. That might be useful.

Hey, what if they arrested Mary-Kate? They'd have a problem on their hands, that's for sure. I mean, for starters, they'd probably have to lock her in a closet or something because she could just walk right through the spaces between those bars and out of her cell. They'd never be able to contain her in a regular cell. Do they have children's sized handcuffs? Because her wrists are about the same thickness as pretzel sticks and I can't see regular cuffs doing much in the way of containment there.

This can only get more interesting as more stuff comes out. Stay tuned, won't ye?

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R.I.P. Playgirl

(Sorry this is late. Things got a little busy. Or something like that. Hey! Y'all aren't always reading this on time! I can be late too. Geez. Tough crowd. )

Well, the crappy economy is having an effect in areas that you probably didn't think it would. I know that for me, when I hear about the "troubled economy" I don't automatically think, "Gee, I wonder if magazines like Playgirl will still be able to stay in print." See, now HAD I thought that, I wouldn't be so surprised at the news that the magazine Playgirl will cease to be a magazine and will only offer it's content on the web.

Apparently, the last print issue of the " glossy, soft-porn magazine" which "debuted as the women’s alternative to soft-porn men’s magazines in 1973" will be the "Jan/Feb 2009 magazine, which comes out Nov. 18." That according to gaywired.com. In other news, there is a gaywired.com.

Really? 1973? Huh. So 35 years of glossy soft-porn marketed for women, but loved by gay men around the globe. Ok then.

And did you know that although Playgirl was originally designed with females in mind, it quickly grew a large gay male fan base as well. Shocking, I know. Actually, while not "shocking", it is interesting that Playgirl would have a significant gay male readership base, but I don't think that Playboy has a significant gay female readership base. And I guess that guys are supposed to be "more visual" when it comes to things like this, but you'd kind of maybe expect the same sort of behavior then from the gay females because, well, just because. You do the math.

I always find it amusing when the articles that are about subjects that everyone knows plenty about feel the need to state the blatantly obvious. (You know, just in case someone's been living under a rock since 1973 and are just now learning that this fabulous new periodical called Playgirl, will soon cease to exist.) "Playgirl features pictorials of nude and seminude men in erotic poses, accompanied by articles on sex, lifestyle topics and celebrities." Huh. Nude and seminude men in a magazine, you say? Interesting. Tell me more. What?! It's over. Crap, I'm late for everything.

Well, fine. Adios Playgirl. We hardly knew ye. Let's see, what to put on the headstone of the newly deceased publication? Um....Ah. Got it.

PLAY GIRL MAGAZINE

1973 - 2008

REST IN PENIS

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Montauk Monster Mayhem

OK, what the hell? I like the Internet and all, but sometimes, all of those tubes and pipes and wires and strings that connect everything together can just end up to serve the purpose of pointing out either a) how gullible people are, b) how ridiculous people are or c) a little bit of both. (On occasion, it can also be used to point out d) how hot some people are. But when they're d) hot with a little bit of b) ridiculous thrown in, they end up just e) annoying the hell out of me.)

So, this "creature" thing "washes up" on the shores on Montauk. Well,actually, it was photographed lying on the shores of Montauk. (Hmm...the key word there might actually be "lying'. Interesting.) How it got there is debatable. Who saw it is debatable. What happened to it is also debatable. And what's really debatable is what in the hell it is! Seriously, look at this thing:

Whatever it is, it's disgusting. It's like they took a bit too long digging the fire pit at the luau and the thing just languished in the sun for far too long. I don't get it. But I do get this: Weird-ass animal things that look like old, bald, dead dogs don't "wash up" on the shores of a beach on Montauk. They also don't go to the shores of Montauk to die a la some elephant graveyard legend. (I'm pretty sure there was a Scooby Doo episode that exposed that whole farce.) And three fairly hot chicks like that (who may or may not have a cumulative IQ of 100) don't have the stomach to belly on up to the creature and take it's picture. No way. So what gives?

Well, Nick Leighton from Plum TV tried to get to the bottom of it. And I'm sure that he was as forceful as he possibly could be (which is to say, not very. He's a rather effeminate chap, don't you know? But I liked him. He asked good questions.), just short of smacking the chicks with his feather boa.

During his interview with Rachel Goldberg, Jenna Hewitt and Courtney Fruin, Nick said, "Four scientists say that it does not exist. They all say you're drunk and that you Photoshop really well." That was met with the response, "The animal exists." OK, see, a response like that which alludes to something, but could also allude to something else points one in the direction of concluding that it's a real fake creature. She might just as well have said, "Oh, it's something, all right." Well, we know it's something, sweetheart. Same principle. Any ideas as to what? "A mutant." Of course! How could I have overlooked the possibility of "a mutant". Oh, for cryin' out loud, a mutant what?! But sadly (or thankfully) that question wasn't answered because another one volunteered her theory of, "It's a cross breed. I think it came out of the ocean from Plum Island." So, it's a plum? I don't think so.

But I loved it when Nick asked, "Where is the animal now? Because apparently it got dragged off into someone's home. In Montauk. And it's been mounted on someone's wall." That's pretty funny. Even funnier is when one of the girls said, "No. It decomposed in someone's backyard." And Nick, who is very sharp and catches on to details like this really fast, jumps in with, "Oh, so you're friends? So we could go to this backyard?" Good job, Nick! Way to get the scoop! And? "It's been since...removed." What? "By whom?" You get 'em, Nick! Let's see them get out of that! "Friends of ours." Darn! I did not see that coming. Apparently, neither did Nick because he told them, "You're a little shady with the details." And here's where what little, if any, credibility these three chickies had goes right out the window. "Well, it's very mysterious. We're not just giving up all the information." Um, what?

First of all, the only time I've ever heard someone say, "Well, it's very mysterious" was on Scooby Doo. Usually it was Velma stating the obvious there. And when something is "very mysterious" you don't have any information to give up because it's mysterious. Hence the term, mysterious!

But Nick soldiers on (don't ask, don't tell, don't you know?) with, "So it's been carted off to somewhere that you know but you won't tell us?" "Our friends have it. We're hoping to have scientists contact us and then we can find out what it is. That's really ...the goal." Is it now? I don't think that's your main goal. And what do you mean your "friends have it?" Right! Look, I really like the friends that I have, but if any of them came to me and said, "Hey, we found this crazy looking, dead mutant on the beach. Mind if I keep it at your place for a while?" Yeah, see, I'm not going to do that. If it was just crazy looking or just a mutant, I might consider it. But dead is out of the question. If you start hanging on to your friend's dead carcasses, pretty soon, all of your friends are bringing over their dead carcasses as well. It's just more trouble than it's worth is all I'm saying. But I digress.

"It's in a box. The bones are boxed." Now it's just bones? How long does it take for fake, mysterious creatures to decompose? That thing looked pretty meaty. It wouldn't be overnight. So Nick tries to pin them down with specifics. "How do we know it's not a raccoon, a turtle without it's shell, or a dog?" (OK, that's quite the variety there, Nick. Perhaps next time, what say you narrow the field down a bit.) "What we've heard from a scientist at Stonybrook University is it's not a raccoon because the legs and arms are not in proportion with the body." Wait a minute. Weren't they waiting for hear from the scientists to tell them what it was? What happened to this Stonybrook Farm guy? He wasn't good enough or what?

Come on, Nick. Do your thing. "OK, proportions. Dog?" "It's not a dog because of, um, the feet." Because of the feet? All dogs that I've had AND seen in my lifetime have, surprisingly enough, HAD feet. What kind of mutant dogs does that chick keep for pets anyway? WTF? One more, Nick. "The feet. OK." But before Nick could get to his final question, one of the chicks piped up, "And a turtle doesn't have teeth." At that point, I expected them to stand up, spread their collective arms and shout, "Ta-da!" But they didn't. It was a little anticlimactic.

Well, whatever it is, I'm sure that we'll find out about it in a couple of days. The story is starting to fall apart here and there and it's looking more and more like it might be part of some Internet marketing campaign for some show that's going to be airing on Cartoon Network called Cryptids Are Real. Nice. I hate that crap. Hey, but if it is just a promo, then what's the creature?

Jeff Corwin of Animal Planet says that what we have here is a very rare.....raccoon. Wait. What?

Hey, does this look like a raccoon to you?

I've seen raccoons before. They look like this:

They do not look like this:

Now, I'm not saying that he's wrong. After all, he does work for the Animal Planet. But maybe his Animal Planet doesn't have animals like this planet because that is not a freaking raccoon. Just to be clear again, this is a raccoon. Please note the difference between the real raccoon and the pictures above that crazy people are saying is a raccoon.

We'll see how this turns out. (I still don't think it's going to be a raccoon, but that doesn't mean I think it's going to be an ocean mutant either.) Stay tuned, won't ye?

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Happy Birthday To Me

All right, this is going to have to suffice for today, as I am now :::sniff::: too damn old and will be spending the rest of the day curled up in a ball in a corner somewhere, weeping softly and waiting for sweet, sweet death to take me away.

Who am I kidding? I'm too drunk to write much more than this. Woo-hoo! Happy Birthday to Me!

Actually, I've done a bit of reading about August 2nd. If you go by the annals of history it would appear that August 2nd is just ripe for war and death and destruction. I'm not quite sure if I'm supposed to work on changing that or just go with the flow. Changing it seems like too much work and I'm old and tired. Status quo it is then.

• 1990 - Iraq invades Kuwait
  


• 1985 - Delta Flight 191 crashes in Dallas, killing 137
  



• 1980 - A bomb explodes at a train station in Italy, killing 85 and wounding more than 200
  
  
  
• 1973 - A flash fire in the Isle of Man at the Summerland amusement park kills 51
  
  
• 1968 - On the very day and very year that I was born, the Casiguran Earthquake strikes the Philippines and kills more than 270 and wounds 261. It's as if someone said to me, "Welcome to the world. You're going to die a violent and horrific death."
  
  

It only gets worse before 1968. More war. More troops. More death. It's a wonder half of us were even born at all, if you think about it. Oh, here are some other glorious highlights of this day:

• Albert Einstein writes a letter to FDR in 1939 urging him to develop a nuclear weapon


• The Marijuana Tax Act of 1937 passes, rendering marijuana illegal in the US (This really had no effect on me at all. Especially in college.)
  
  
• Albert Einstein urges all scientists to refuse military work in 1931



• The first US Census is conducted in 1790
  

• And my personal favorite: In 1934, Adolf Hitler becomes Fuhrer of Germany. Ach!
  
  
  

Nice. No marijuana but plenty of Nazis on this day. Grand. There isn't really anyone all that interesting born on this day (other than myself and that's questionable. The interesting part, that is. I'm relatively sure I entered on the 2nd.) There are a few that...well...someone might know who they are, though. Maybe. With hints.

• Mary-Louise Parker, born in 1964 (You know, the actress chick. She was in...um, well...oh! Weeds. And The West Wing. There it is. Yeah, her.)
  
  
  
• Wes Craven, born in 1939 (The director guy who makes creepy movies like Hellraiser.)
  
  
  
• Carroll O'Connor, born in 1924 (Yes. Archie Bunker. Great.)



• Lance Ito, born in 1950 (Judge Ito! From the OJ trial! Right on! At least it wasn't that crying Seidlin guy from the Anna Nicole custody hearings.)
  

That's who was born. Now, who died? (I swear, I better not be on this list.)

• Warren G. Harding in 1923 (29th President of the US)
  
  
• Shari Lewis in 1998 (The puppeteer who always had her hand up Lambchop's ass.)
  
  
  
• Alexander Graham Bell in 1922 (Made us all want to reach out and touch someone. With or without a phone.)
  
  
• Wild Bill Hickok in 1876 (Shot in the back of the head while playing poker. As an avid poker player, that's not overly comforting.)
  
  

Well, it's a pretty mello day for those being born or those croaking on this day. Not so mello for the death and destruction aspect of it all. But the rest? Fairly calm and boring.

Oh, and Happy 16th Birthday to my cousin, whose birthday also happens to be today. And Happy Birthday to Renee, because about 8 years ago, I told you that, since we had the same birthday, you'd always know that at least one other person was thinking about you on that day, even if you felt like no one gave a fat rat's ass. (Incidentally, I'll be doing the same thing.)

So let's see if I can go the rest of the day without adding to the list of death and destruction that occurs on this day. If this blog abruptly stops, you know that I was largely unsuccessful. Now...where's my beer?

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The Odd Evolution of Humor

Humor, apparently, evolves over time. And it's a good thing too, because at first they didn't quite have the hang of the whole humor-should-be-funny concept. Not at all.

The witty guy over there at Dave - The Home of Witty Banter (shocking that his name is Dave, I know) says that they "spent two months trawling the annals of history to produce the first report of its kind into the world's oldest recorded jokes." Now, while I don't doubt them for a minute, I have no idea how you would go about finding this sort of material. I mean, if it had it's own category, we could look it up on our own (provided we were actually bored enough to ponder something like this). So I'd have to guess that it's sort of dispersed throughout other accounts of history, but I still don't quite get how. Is there a break in the discussion about the causes of the Peloponnesian War where they throw in a couple of ancient "Knock-knock" jokes to lighten the load a bit? I don't get it.

But that's why I'm not Dave. He gets it. Or, at least, he got it. And I'm glad he did because if the ten oldest ones that he found are any indication of how the rest of the jokes in history turned out, it would be a horrible topic to research. But that's just mainly because if you're researching humor, you're going to expect things to be funny. It's just how it works. But when you find out that, aside from lacking the basic essentials that keep humans alive today (the Internet, porn, etc.) the ancient people had a different idea of what was "funny". That is to say, they found "not funny" to be hilarious.

The oldest joke comes from somewhere between 1900 BC and 1600 BC and was found in the Sumerian Proverb Collection 1.12-1.13 (that according to Dave. I have NO idea what that means.). The joke goes like this: "Something which has never occurred since time immemorial: a young woman did not fart in her husband's lap." That's it. It's over. Are you laughing? No? Dang. I was kind of hoping you were so that you could explain it to me. Not only is it not funny, it's nonsensical as well. (They really should have looked into that Internet thing a bit more.)

The next oldest joke was from 1600 BC on the Westcar Papryus. (Yes! The Westcar Papryus! I could hardly believe it myself! Mainly because I have NO idea where or what that is, but there's a picture of it to the right here.) That joke goes: "How do you entertain a bored pharaoh? You sail a boatload of young women dressed only in fishing nets down the Nile and urge the pharaoh to go catch a fish." See what I mean? While better than the Sumerian Proverb above it, still not funny. Sensical, but dumb. Is that an improvement? Maybe, but it's not a very good one.

From 1200 BC we have what doesn't read so much like a joke as it does a weird math story problem. "Three ox drivers from Adab were thirsty: one owned the ox, the other owned the cow and the other owned the wagon's load. The owner of the ox refused to get water because he feared his ox would be eaten by a lion; the owner of the cow refused because he thought his cow might wander off into the desert; the owner of the wagon refused because he feared his load would be stolen. So they all went. In their absence the ox made love to the cow which gave birth to a calf which ate the wagon's load. Problem: Who owns the calf?!" Oh, the troubles of the folk in 1200 BC. They would have killed to have our modern day trivial dilemmas like nuclear war and world famine.

100 years later in 1100 BC over there in Egypt, they came up with this one: "A woman who was blind in one eye has been married to a man for 20 years. When he found another woman he said to her, "I shall divorce you because you are said to be blind in one eye." And she answered him: "Have you just discovered that after 20 years of marriage!?" And really? He probably had.

I'm skipping ahead a little here. Still in Egypt but this time we're joshing around in the Ptolemaic Period between 304 BC and 30 BC. This time, ancient wisdom tries to masquerade as humor. "Man is even more eager to copulate than a donkey - his purse is what restrains him." Well, if the man has a purse, that wouldn't really so much restrain him as it would deter others from wanting to copulate like said donkey with the man. Purses? Not very manly.

Now, around 300 AD - 400 AD is when the Philogelos finally start getting the hang of it. "Wishing to teach his donkey not to eat, a pedant did not offer him any food. When the donkey died of hunger, he said "I've had a great loss. Just when he had learned not to eat, he died." All right, I'll admit it, I find that amusing. It's one of those jokes that's just silly. So silly that it makes it funny. It's that component that compels me, even to this day, moments before I turn 40, to interject, "Then don't do that" after someone says, "It hurts when I do this." Then hilarity ensues. (Why, yes, I do enjoy Laffy Taffy.)

So they started off horrible, progressed to bad, then started to make sense, added a purse and then became funny. It's evolution right before your very eyes! And it's led us to where we are today! In a world where funny actually is funny. And I, for one, am thrilled that it is. If it weren't, I'd be looking for a new gig, that's for sure.

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Big Fat Cat Update

Stop the presses! I have an update on the owner of the BFC (Big Fat Cat) that was found waddling about the streets of New Jersey a few days ago and has since been making the rounds on the talk show circuit. (Yesterday, the BFC sat down the Regis & Kelly and tried to explain her situation. But then she realized that she was a cat and couldn't talk and thus, probably had no business being on a talk show to begin with. So she just sat there and looked fat. Really fat. Oh, my God, is that cat enormous.)

The owner has been found. It may or may not surprise you to learn that the owner of the BFC (nicknamed "Princess Chunk" by shelter workers who, apparently, couldn't think of anything better or that didn't include a royalty reference. Was the cat wearing a tiara when they found her? What's up with the 'Princess' moniker anyway?) is a 65 year old woman named Donna Oklatner. And if that didn't surprise you, I'll be that if you learned that the reason that the cat wasn't in her possession is because her house was foreclosed on. Ah, see? I was right. Surprise.

Yes, that is the reason given for why a BFC (which looks like it could be at least four cats in one, by the way) was on the loose without a collar. According to the fine folks over there at the New York Daily News, in her defense (and the beginning of her explanation), she said, "I would never abandon an animal. I gave it to a friend to give to a shelter. It's like giving babies to a hospital." Well, it's not exactly the same. Unless you've just expelled a 44-pound baby through your uterus and left it to wander about the streets on it's own. They're actually kind of different. Very. Very different.

Oklatner said that she fell behind on her mortgage payments, not because of buying food for the BFC, but because of credit card debt and medical bills. Uh-huh. You know, if I have a choice between paying part of my credit card bill or paying my mortgage, I'm going to choose the mortgage, hands down, probably every time. She didn't seem to look at it that way. Interesting choice.

She continued by saying, "After she was booted from her house, her husband ended up in a retirement home and she crashed with friends, keeping only her dog, Cody." Now, apparently the BFC has a normal sized brother, Puff. (And when I say "normal sized" I mean "sized like a cat and not a small bear") Oklatner manager to get a friend to take Puff, but surprisingly enough, the friend "couldn't" take the behemoth 44 pound BFC. Shocking, I know. But hey, she found a place for three of the four animals that she cared for. Cody, Puff and her husband all ended up with good homes.

So, since she couldn't find a place where she could shove the BFC in through the door, she "asked a friend to call the shelter" and say that she had found the BFC. Then the animal control officer came out and used a derrick (or something) to hoist the BFC into a dog carrier. And the next thing you know, the BFC's on Regis & Kitty Kelly. Good Lord, what a story.

I'm not sure that I buy the whole "my house was foreclosed on and so I had to get rid of my 44 pound cat by having a friend pretend to find her so that the overcrowded shelter will take the BFC" story. Wouldn't most people who were going to let someone hang at their place because they lost their house, prefer a cat over a dog? Granted, the dog looks like it could be an appetizer for the BFC. But in general. A dog over a cat? That almost never happens. Something is weird about the story and I'm sure that we'll find out about it in a few days. Probably after Dateline NBC does an investigative report into the BFC's metabolism and "life before the shelter". You know it's coming.

Actually the good people over yonder at the Courier Post Online reported on this story (as did every other publication online and in print did as well) and in their article, Oklander's story is just a little different in a few places. See, and things like this don't seem like they should be all that complicated. Makes you wonder why the two stories are different, doesn't it? (Of course it doesn't. That's because you and I totally know something is up with this broad and the rest of the whole BFC thing to begin wtih. We don't know what, but we know we're onto something.)

There is one other bit of information about the BFC that is rather important. The BFC's real name is "Powder". Not Princess Powder. Not The Duchess of Powder. Just Powder. Powder, it turns out, couldn't be a princess. Powder, it turns out, would have to be a prince. That's correct. The BFC is so B and so F that they incorrectly determined that it was a "she" due to the apparent absence of that which would have made it a "he". Powder is so freaking big that the forty four pounds of feline fat covered up the, uh, frontal lobe (if you will) to the point where it was like it wasn't even there. Wow.

So in just one week, the BFC went from having a home to living in a shelter, from being relatively unknown to appearing on talk shows and from being a female to being a male. Well, that's a busy week for any human, let alone a cat. Good luck, Powder Pounder.

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