Yes, The Shadow does know

I don't know if you know this about me,

I'm sinister.

This is from my private detective days.

Days of waiting.

Waiting for perps to make one false move.

Nights of waiting.

Waiting for someone to effing feed me.

Eyeless

I found a cat with no face.

Paging Magnum P.I.

What kind of person or persons would do this to a cat?

This family.

They could have saved whales or prevented dune erosion, but they chose to spend their time playing Hall and Oates, Inspector Clouseau and I'm going to say, Hitler.

Speaking of Hitler and mustaches, if tragedy plus time equals comedy, when does Holocaust plus time equal trendy Hitler 'stache? I'm always surprised neither the ironists or the klansman have adopted this unfortunate look.

El Regreso de Gato

What do you say when you've been gone for so long? Rehab? They tried to make me go, I said, that sounds like a waste of cash.

I don't have much to say, really, the journey has been internal, just, you know, coming more into myself.

I'd like to say, I've been in Palestine and I've got an answer to the peace process. But I haven't and I don't.

I'd like to say I've caught Joseph Kony in Congo and the Lord's Resistance Army is no more. But I didn't. I didn't even try, it's so hard to get a visa these days and I haven't been up for long distance traveling.

I'd like to say I'm a father and I've been off raising a litter. But I'm not and I can't. I'd rail here about forced sterilization but the thing is, it's generally wise. I saw stuff in the animal shelter that would make a warlord's heart melt. I'm thinking about those six-year-old warlords in particular.

I'm just a cat at the beach. I don't even fish. I would kill for some chicken right now. Or a hamburger. Meet me at Matunuck Beach behind Joyce Family Pub after sunset, bring lots of meat. I'll regale you with stories about what I've been up to. For real, the undercover stuff. Whom I've been tailing, what I've overheard. Stuff that would make your head spin, if heads really spun.

Babies and duct tape and Tiger (oh my!)

Waiting for the vote on health care is a lot like having your feet duct taped to the floor.
First, horror sets in: can I really not do anything about this situation, is it really entirely in the hands of a bunch of pork-bill obsessed legislators and a few noble (ish) caped crusaders doing the best they can to get health insurance for everyone?
Then comes the inevitable sadness of waiting to learn one's fate. Will we have universal duct tape? Or will we have health care for millions of uninsured babies and their families?

One conclusion I've come to is given the high cost of premiums and deductibles*, the only fair thing to do is to take our babies to work and make them work.

*Except for Massachusetts, which now provides state-wide health care on a sliding scale for low or no income residents. Impressive.

There's always Canada. It's cold there, but we could send all our babies to Canada for free health care. Canadians are overwhelmingly nice, as a basic, general stereotype. Personally, I've met at least a dozen of them and they have been very grounded, open and yes, nice. I'm going to hazard a guess this is because when they get sick, they can go to a doctor. When they break an arm or a leg they don't owe that same arm and a leg to the insurance company. That security must certainly improve morale.

In any case, I'm here in our nation's capital, prepared for all manner of mayhem to break out: death panel parades, anti-war bingo games, immigration quinceanaras, LGBTQ equal rights ping pong tournaments, and pro-stem cell pin the tail on the donkey championships. We don't know what the American people are capable of when pushed to the limit; there could be rioting in the streets or, maybe, everyone will just stay home and watch the NCAA's big dance. Heavily tattooed (inked pecs, biceps, abs) young men wear nylon-blend gauchos and huck an orange ball around a big square with two hoops at either end yet--despite their height--they have a hard time putting the ball through the net. Wait, what was I talking about? A health care bill, a vote... right, something that affects all of us who live a distance beneath the tycoons.

I better check the newsfeeds, I'm sure there's some kind of update on the vote... or at least on Jesse James and Sandra Bullock or--nevermind, I'm getting a text from Tiger!

"Gato, ever eaten duck and peas with a bi-racial golfing sensation? I want to do nasty things to you... rub chicken on your head... give you a sexy bubble bath... give you catnip and take photos of your tail."

Think I can't get out of my head, all that Tiger wanted from these other cute little kittens.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/kittens-and-tiger-woods-sexts

It's a difficult time for us bi-racials. Obama is pushing health care through, Tiger was pushing something through and I'm pushing duct-taped babies through as a metaphor for our populace waiting to hear our fate. If we were really post-racial... well, that's another post.

Thanks to Grendel, for monitoring my blog while I was in rural Virginia vanquishing the rodent population.

DISCLAIMER: No babies were physically harmed in the making of this post. Although, one was duct-taped to the floor briefly. Do not try this at home or at a friend's home with a friend's baby. Unless that friend is Heather and the baby is Safia and at least one of them has consented.