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2:30 p.m. : 2005-12-20 : Catster, Geezster

We’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover. And for the most part we’re pretty good about it. Men have been making the excuse, of course, for centuries that they are visually oriented and hence, must soothe their eyes and peni with the salve of porn. Salve Vagina, if you will. And it makes sense.

As hard as we try not to judge those books by their covers or say, their tit or penis size, or if not penis size, hand-size, foot size, the way they play pool – the way a man handles a pool cue says a lot about the way he has the sex; if he finesses the pool cue, holding it differently for each shot, you know he will perform at various speeds and strengths and this will be good by you. If, by contrast, he tenaciously goes at every shot the same way, even if there’s power behind it, chances are he’s not going to keep the whistle whet, even if he does manage to whet it at first. You don’t want to use a jackhammer to open a ziplock bag. Every man will invariably knock some balls off the table, but never go home with the one who knocks off the most. Besides, it is pretty likely he is used to quickly and officially taking care of himself.

Anyway… I was thinking this morning as I pet Oliver Julius (yes, he’s on Catster, shut up) that we can’t help but judge books by their covers to some degree. I would not let Oliver Julius kneed my stomach and continue to pet him if he looked like a tiny, bald, shriveled old man. I would probably not continue to pet him if he started to breathe heavily or lick himself, looking like an old man. But alas, he is terribly cute, furry, and cat-like, and so I continue to pet him.

Tigger is a different story because he is pretty lax and easy going and really only gets annoying around American cheese. He, as an old man, would not be too odd. I would feed him and give him his insulin shot twice a day and he would complain about Oliver Julius and I would agree that the whippersnapper has too much energy.

It would be really strange if the cats were just small, old people. Before Oliver Julius was neutered he would hump the bed a little, and I can’t help imagining the horror if he looked like a tiny old man. Nothing about his personality would have to be different for this to be disturbing. He would merely have to look like an old man and his licking, kneeding, purring, etc., would be upsetting.

I only chose “old man” because it was the first look that came to my mind. Equally upsetting would be for Oliver Julius to do all of his cat things looking like a little girl in a frilly dress or a little boy, or something, or my junior-year sixty-year-old female high school English teacher with the grey bowl cut and spectacles. That would also be distressing.

last - now - next

Give Me Clix, If It Pleases You

I declare this blog “old timey,” ya flibbertigibbet! - 2012-05-27

I Heart Heart Of Gold! - 2006-03-27

Catster, Geezster - 2005-12-20

Le Divorce - 2005-12-12

'Cuz We Need A Little Christmas... - 2005-12-06

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