Politicat

I'm introducing a guest columnist named Politicat. He likes to tell it the way it is, at least the way he thinks it is. He's definitely opinionated. He's also a cat. I'll let him fill you in on the rest.
-- UnSaintly Pat

Politicat

I'm Politicat. I leave belly-scratch-loving domesticats in the dust.

Politicat speaks

Yeah, I'm Politicat. I take on the fat cats and run with the big dogs.

Now, my mistress, the UnSaintly one, she's a little mild, if you know what I mean. I guess it's that trying to be a Christian thing. Not me--I'm no fangs barred! If I think something's funny, I'll laugh it, politically correct or not. Mocking is my specialty.

For example: the vice president's unfortunate hunting accident this past weekend. What a hoot!

Top 10 reasons for shooting Mr. Whittington:

• Cheney mistook Whittington for Dubya and shot him. Cheney's a lousy shot. We could speculate endlessly about whether Cheney had the moving truck ready for a quick trip to the White House.

• The Bush was there, and he's the one who actually pulled the trigger. Cheney got pinned as the patsy in the cover up.

Nah, it would have been pinned on some hapless aide.

• Cheney mistook Mr. Whittington for an Arab terrorist and determined to torture the plot out of him.

• Cheney did it because he could.

• Whittington, in his big, orange hunting jacket, looked just like a small, fluffy bird. An easy mistake to make.

Are you sure it wasn't Dubya with the gun?

I guess that's not 10 reasons, but I'm a cat. I can't count that well.

Isn't peppering quail with birdshot a case of overkill? It can't do anything for the flavor. I say, if you're going to hunt small creatures, kill them the way God intended -- with your teeth.

-- Politicat