Monday, August 14, 2006

Elvis Rex: There oughta be a law

Note from UnSaintly Pat:
I was going to write my Sunday-evening installment of Pirates of the Anglican Communion, but went fishing instead. Elvis took a turn at the blog while I was gone.

Elvis speaks:

I'm looking for a lawyer. I want to sue, and I'm thinking there's maybe a class-action suit in this for a good lawyer.

It all started last week, when the UnSaintly One went to see an allergy doctor. After a bunch of testing, the verdict came in. The UnSaintly One's allergic to two things, he told her: dust .... and CATS.

Now, I've been thinking about this all week. I'm convinced this is a lie -- more cat defamation. Cats get blamed for everything. Did the dog get blamed for any allergy? No.

Is it ever the dog? No. Did the doctor tell her to keep Betsy, the dog, off the bed? No.

Who's sleeping on the bed now? The dog.

Even the UnSaintly One says, "Betsy's the good girl."

But Jack and I, we're the "bad boys." Just because the furniture gets clawed up -- and that's Jack, not me. So we jump around in the kitchen while she's trying to cook, and knock things off the counter. Knock things off her desk. Chew up and tear up a few things. Yak on the carpet. Pull down the sheers from the window. Big deal.

I don't see why the UnSaintly One minds me drinking from her glass. It's a cat thing.

Let's face it. We live in an anti-cat culture. Think of all the Disney movies. The cat is always the bad guy. Remember the cat in Cinderella? Portrayed as evil, trying to harm those poor little mice. Mice aren't so cute in real life, though I hear they're pretty tasty.

And remember the sicko Siamese in Lady and the Tramp? The list goes on. Just about every animated Disney movie has a cat villain.

The anti-cat movement goes back to the Middle Ages, when we were blamed for the plague.

So, I want a lawyer to go after not just the doctor, who suggested the UnSaintly One should make us yard cats (thank God she didn't), but let's go after the studios, books and magazines, too, on behalf of all cats, everywhere.


MadPriest said...

Go on, unsaintly, put them out in the yard just so you can announce:


Cats really hate being the butt of a joke, even a good joke.

Of course, if you're not sick like me, don't do it.

Saint Pat said...

That poor, persecuted pussycat has already been the butt of such jokes. He just knows when anyone's laughing at him, and he leaves the room in a huff.

I'll call out after him, "Elvis has left the building," or more accurately, "Elvis has left the room."

Elvis fails to find the humor in it.

MadPriest said...

Proof, if proof was needed.

You are as sick as I am.

Toewalker said...

That's why we love you both.

Saint Pat said...

Heh, heh.

You have to say it just right, too. As in, "El-vis (pause two beats) has left the build-ing!"

I love you deranged people, too.