Goody Goody Crow Rules (song)

I think moving forward I’m just going to call them my “karatorials” or “Franken-songials”, though that’s a little ungainly (you can add pretty much anything to “Franken …” by the way, believe me, and quite a few iterations of such over the years have been none too flattering ).

Whatever, just my editorials here via a karaoke tune or two.

Here’s another, this one to Adam Ant.

Goody Goody Crow Rules

Gov Kemp grabbed a big pen

To support the Big Lie

Election integrity, integrity

Ignore that GA’s was fine now

Was su-posed gold standard

For others to try

Try and live up to, up to

It was even a point of pride now 

Ya can’t choose, we choose, voting rights you lose

Ya can’t choose, we choose,

Suppression wins you lose

Make vo-ting harder, what will you do

A tougher vote, we say, what will you do

None too subtle the game they play

Jim Crow says hey y’all by the way

Say thanks to Joe Manchin

Repubs inside joke

Won’t let us bust the filli filli  

Bi-part will surely take note take note

As everyone laughs at

His naïve to extreme

The Pollyanna world he loves hope  

Is in a parti-san long boat

Ya can’t choose, we choose, voting rights you lose

Ya can’t choose, we choose,

Suppression wins you lose

Make vo-ting harder, what will you do

A tougher vote, we say, what will you do

None too subtle the game they play

Jim Crow says howdy by the way

—— 

GOP knows too well now

There ain’t no fair fight

Straight up they lose every time now

People vote they will always eat crow

They’ll try to sell you

A bill of false goods

About getting back to honest, honest

But based on a cult’s lies big lie

Now this ain’t no token

They’ll take the deride

Knowing full well, too well now

The orange is on their right side

Make vo-ting harder, what will you do

A tougher vote, we say, what will you do

None too subtle the game they play

Jim Crow says howdy by the way

Make vo-ting harder, what will you do

Cuttin’ back Sundays what will you do

None too subtle the game they play

Jim Crow says hey y’all by the way

Make vo-ting harder, what will you do

Lose drop boxes, what will you do

None too subtle the game they play

Jim Crow says howdy by the way

Make vo-ting harder, what will you do

A tougher vote, we say, what will you do

None too subtle the game they play

Jim Crow says howdy by the way

A Week’s End

Earlier today as I came home, another finally Friday, but another disappointment of a week, another week where what it is that I do is just considered by some, nothing more, just considered, I relaxed on the top top climb of the driveway’s tall tall hill at last.

The idiots were out today, Fridays bring out the best I guess and it was all I could do just to get to that hill’s climb around them. “just sing along Steve, just keep singing along, tap tap your steering wheel while moving forward, you have BB’s Alan Parsons CD’s for just this reason, just keep singin’ tap tappin’ along … you’ll make that hard right always wondering of just what gear to be in as you climb the hill eventually”.

Penny will surely poke his head out of the third bay garage cat door talking excitedly on his way over of stories of cat, Cujo will elbow in and suck the joy out of Penny’s hello to find his own joy instead via  ear rubs, the dogs will do what the dogs do, a welcome din, you will check the hard food and water of the front porch cats and that one Calico who minds you at a staring almost close enough to not quite pet distance with a Penny underfoot now blab blab blabbin’ away, Cujo having gotten his moment and you will be home, a just being considered behind you, at least for a couple of days.

From behind their fence as you approach Chrissy will dance and spin like some Russian circus dog, Georgia will shaky butt defer, Louie will be annoying in his barky need of play way, Polly will work her way into the mix with a light lick of the nose and Pea will be nowhere to found, surely napping on the comfiest of dog chewed pet beds in the mudroom but with a tail that says “not quite asleep here ya know, I got a belly welcome for a pet or two if you’re so inclined”. Well so inclined I am Mr Pea. You will then turn the corner to head up the stairs to your little Bella, Mimi the Quirky, Cricket the Blind and a weekend of humans you’ll do your best to make sure are nowhere to found. You’ll also have some words in comfortable lamp light and cat laps awaitin’ some creatin’ at the PC.

That relax.

And you’ll meet Jackie for the first time, the woman who rides the mower for Celie up and down this hill, as she parks her truck just beyond BB and just ahead of the cows. She’ll make her way over with a purpose after you’ve pulled up, a spent cigarette in her fingers, though one that will still call for an attempt, a forgotten then remembered but fruitless one. She is intent on meeting you, it seems, beyond the always quick waves in her mowings and she’ll be intent on telling you how she knows Bren. Brenda of Bren and Bob. My dear downstairs neighbors from the apartment before this one. Out of the blue connections.

////////////////////////////////////////

I couldn’t breathe.

I white knuckled my way home, suddenly, from Mom’s little place in her village of nice folks after a comfy Thanksgiving dinner with her and my brother 5 years ago realizing that I only needed two things. Get home and get home, the second get home being all about me not being on the road. I was seeing double, breath wasn’t coming and I needed to just get home to my little Bella and Grayson. Bren just happened to be poking her head out of her Bren and Bob apartment as I managed two lines in the parking lot, tried to manage two lines in the parking lot I should say, with a wide eyed hunch over a steering wheel’s death grip stare at the simplest most difficult lines ever. Bob, of Bren and Bob threw me in his car and drove.

/////////////////////////////////////

So now there was a Jackie who rides mowers up and down a hill with spent cigarettes between her fingers who knows a Bren who lives with a Bob who had a car and knew a spot with waiting rooms and anxious faces and doctors and nurses and nine days of a hospital bed to help me breathe again and discover things I didn’t know but am so grateful that I do now.

The world smalls.

“C’mon Penny, let’s check on the porch gang (with sideways steps of feet that pause in their ups) and then a check on your pals in that third bay … Dude! Watch the underfoot will ya?!”

“Meow … what?”

I was home, another finally Friday. Just consider me? Fine. I just made a hard right up a tall tall hill wondering of what gear to be in as I always do, just this time at a week’s end and was met with a reminder, and the always other welcome  and comforting ones.

I breathe a little easier at some week’s ends, considering.

Crush (song)

Ya know I’ve found myself, over the last couple of years, to be prone to a parody tune or two, political stuff (minus the occasional things about cats peeing where they shouldn’t) the Orange Devil, going to hell in a handbasket, hypocrisy, authoritarian leanings, that kind of thing, obvious shit, things that for some reason I find necessary to point out because of being dumbfounded by that obviousness. Does anyone listen and should you see these things on your own accord without my poorly sung insistence? No and sure but not without disappointment.

I have though discovered one thing. I enjoy the fuck out of writing some new lyrics and the looking forward to singing whatever song is my latest project. Give me my little studio on a Friday night with personal obligations I don’t have, a pair of headphones, a knowing that my girls will survive if I’m a couple of hours late (though Mimi will remind of such when I do get home in that smokers sounding annoyed rasp of hers) and I’m all good. No one is going to read my straight right up rants, hell I wouldn’t read them myself, but with a bit of tune? Maybe.

I ran this one by my “Mikey likes it” or doesn’t like it friends earlier, a taste test if you Mikey will and I got thumbs up as opposed to another recent thing I sent them that didn’t even garner a late night cricket. Apparently they hate Neil Diamond. Can’t blame ’em I guess.

Anyway, something new here in the Attic. A take on the late 80’s classic “Crash” from the The Primitives.

“Oh shush Memes, I know, I’m late …”

 

 

Crush

Here we go, fucking fast

Must pass laws we hope’ll la-ast

Cause we know, in blatant show-ow

We can’t win with a vote’s honest go

So Stop, stop the polls

Shut some doors maybe clear the rolls

Make it rough, so no close ca-alls

We wanna make sure of a doubts no go

So re-strictions where there weren’t none

Enact new rules replace old ones

That worked just fine when it was we won

But when we didn’t there was clearly something wrong

 

Na na na na na na na na na

(we gotta crush the vote)

Na na na na na na na na na

(we gotta crush the hope)

 

Here they go, fucking fast

Chau-vin a martyr white bias cast

Say Maxine shut your mou-outh

Your words are a fire that’ll burn the town

But Trump words, were benign-nn

Hugs and kisses it was just sublime

It was really nothing be concerned

Only five dead and the cap riot didn’t earn  

What libs will have us learn

No that was just a patriots turn 

But now the Tuckers and the pundits churn

Will have believe verdicts real concern was burn

 

Chauvin’s martyr turn

Excuse for justice served

 

Na na na na na na na na na
(gonna crush the vote)
Na na na na na na na na na
(gonna crush the hope)
Na na na na na na na na na
(ignorance it is the show)
Na na na na na na na na na
(white nationals refuse the blow)

Na na na na na na na na na

(gonna crush the vote)
Na na na na na na na na na
(gonna crush the hope)
Na na na na na na na na na
(ignorance it is the show)

 

Mmmm hmmm

A Happy Slobbery Mess

Well, the girls just survived a visit from The Louie.

Mimi: Egads!! What the hell is that thing?!

Bella: Did you just say “Egads”?

Mimi: Yeah, and?

Bella; Well don’t look at me on that thing. Hell, you came from the “down there” you should know … and please don’t say “Egads” again … ever.

Mimi: Hey, I’ve been up here for a while thank you and anyway I don’t know this one. I’d surely remember such a slobbery mess.

Bella: Yeah, well a HAPPY slobbery mess since it’s eating all our freakin’ food!

Cricket: Hey, what’s goin’ on you two?

Mimi: Oh, it’s disgusting. Where’d that human of ours go? He didn’t leave us with this abomination did he? And what’s with all the snorting?

Bella: I don’t know, a truffle hunt identity crisis? And I think he just went to the “down there”, he didn’t say goodbye like 30 times like he usually does during the week.

Mimi: That is kind of annoying huh? Just say goodbye once and get the hell out already.

Cricket: Hello?! Anyone? A little help you two, blind over here ya know. What’s happening?

Bella: It’s just one of those noisy, slobbery, snorty things from the “down there” eating up all of our damn food!!

Cricket: Oh, that’s all? Ok. let me know when it’s gone. I’ve got more blind circles to pace.

Mimi: Hold on I hear footsteps. Save us human!!! And please clean those bowls and Adam’s to go’s before you put more food back in them. They’re all freakin’ gross and spitty now.

I had popped my head downstairs to say Hi to Celie who had just gotten home, along with her son Matt, and I was grabbing the last of some things in the dryer. It is a benefit of living here that I’m able to keep the sundries and other such wearing things clean on a weekly basis without having to outsource it to some spot where quarters are at a premium, uncomfortable sitting is required, even a good book not enough to distract and I’d have to have sanitizer at my hip on a worn leather belt like some sort of gunslinger in the Covid age.

After a quick hello to cats and Celie humans and an insistant bird and a retreat back to a soon hamper fill I made my way through the mudroom where the washer/dryer sits as well as the door to my upstairs. I did a quick dog count and a “goodnight” at each count head check.

Got ‘em all, Pea, Polly, Georgia, Chrissy with head pets and bellys and under chins and … Louie? But wait … There wa’nt no Louie. Where the hell was Louie?

Seems I had left my door ajar. Louie knows all about doors ajar. Well, it was no longer “ajar” but fully open and seeming to invite Louie to venture.

//////////////////////////////////////////

I stopped a PetSmart earlier today on my way home from a little sendoff for my brother Nick, who is bound for Louisiana, a new step in his Entergy world. He has worked at Indian Point for years I can’t count now as some stuff and time melds, but with it’s soon closing he is off to a new spot to continue to patrol places we never really think of but provide us with light to write words.  

It was a nice sendoff. Brothers in Beacon, NY, a place with pizza, they probably call it artisan, but a menu beyond that, I’ll have the chicken scarpariello with those cherry peppers and jalapenos please, a place that has been the go-to for so many years of our family moments.  Beck (my sis) and her guy Buck, in the coolest of hats, a similar fedora type thing I rocked from the Cherry Door thrift shop so many years ago in college, gave Nick a Christmas present that he didn’t get back when we were Christmasing from afar, a really nice Marines t-shirt  that could kick my ass just from looking at it, I gave him a small box of some Alan Parsons CD’s for the to Louisiana drive because of course I did. Mom was there with Al, her guy, who genuinely, almost accidentally laughed in his stoidness at some of my and our stupid stories, especially the one about that time years ago where I came to find myself wearing my ex-father in law’s underwear (story for another time) and Ma sat being Ma gathering her collar in the chill that was an outside sit (my only stipulation on going to a restaurant). Can’t really ask for more than that. A Ma, and a proud new hairdoo with some new blonde highlights Ma. There is a disconnect on occasion as some things slide, but Ma was a Ma today surely cursing somewhere in her head why we had to be sitting outside with her gathered collar in the not quite cold almost warm of a Saturday Spring but still cold to her “Stephen I’ll brain you for this chill as it’s all your fault”.

I specifically went for two things at Petsmart all double masked up and head down. No Ron DeStupid Florida type stuff here. Other than Price Chopper early in the morning once a week or so I don’t usually stray, but it was on my way, and I wanted some cans of that food that have a fancier look, ones that claim Farm and others that claim Ocean and cost a few more cents, but gain an extra nose and an extra lick and a bag of Royal Canin dry food that I can only blame Bob Miller for. He’s the morning show guy for WBPM here and when the last of his best passed not too long ago he gave me what was left, even though there were now kitten newbies, a let go and a start anew I guess, some foods that I gladly took not realizing at the time that Mimi The Quirky, Cricket the Blind and my little Bella would find the Royal Canin to be the greatest dry cat food since the big dry cat food bang.  

This shit’s almost 40 bucks a bag BOB!! I wanna see your portfolio. What dry cat foods are you invested in?

Motherfucker.

//////////////////////////////////////////

Louie cleaned house. He went past the ajar and just vacuumed, not a hard bowl or plastic Adams to go box left with even a morsel. But the girls were fine, each in their own computer chair, when I made my way to the fast realization follow up the stairs, calling for and shooing a Louie away.

Just stares from two out of three of the chairs, a nose up from the third wondering of the sloppy mess that is a Louie, more curiosity than anything else was all I had to be worried of it seems.

I stepped back down to note to Celie and to Matt of a Louie and whatever words I could find to convey the funny of a Louie mess in my apartment but they were heads in on another furry project. A blind one who’s needs superseded anything that I could imagine.

Me: You’re all good girls. Ya met Louie I’m assuming? Yeah, I know. He’s a pain in the ass. Hard bowls and Adams to go’s are back in order now, and I de-louie’d them.  (Mimi: Oh, thank goodness!!)

Me: Thank goodness indeed Memes.

Mimi: Woah!!! You can hear me?

Me: I can if I’m the one writing this and, well, I am a crazy cat lady guy, that would only make sense right?

Mimi: Freaky.

Me: Oh, I guess it’s a good thing I stopped at PetSmart on the way home now that everything needs a refill. Loaded up on that fancier looking Frisky stuff you three like and got another bag of the Royal Canin. Freakin’ expensive stuff, gotta kick Bob’s ass and definitely gotta keep Louie away in the future, but you’re all set now.

Mimi: Ummmm … thanks?

Me: Welcome.

Mimi: Hey Bella guess wh…

Bella: Don’t look at me, I ain’t saying a word.

Open Windows

As I was driving home earlier this week, enjoying day three of temps in the mid to upper 60’s, finally a nice stretch that might stay now (I’m not checking the forecast forward by the way just in case) I had my windows down welcoming the breeze of the early evening and the drive, Alan Parsons “I Robot” playing just loud enough to remind me of when Ma might knock on my bedroom wall and I came to one of the many, waaaay too many traffic lights on Route 9 here in Poughkeepsie.

I was in the middle lane of three when from behind me in the outside lane I heard heavy metal. Definitely not the Alan Parsons Project, and definitely not a just loud enough Mom knock on the wall kinda volume. No, this was at a Mom pound on the wall kinda volume, maybe even accompanied with yells, wall broom handles and threats. It sat behind me, just to my left drowning out I Robot’s “Breakdown” until the light turned green and as we moved forward it passed me … windows wide … a mini van, a kidless mini van, with the van’s somewhat younger Mom driving it. No worries of broom handles or threats I guess. No pound on walls when you’re the one behind those walls right? Just sensible walls on wheels. I thought to myself “ Nice. Nicely done. Nicely loudly played open windows some young Mom.”

Besides noting a somewhat younger moms’ nice play and rockin’ out in a mini van I did note something else, something I just don’t quite get and something, really, that I find a bit dismaying. She and I and a relative handful of others, compared to the amount of traffic you’ll find on Route 9 at this time, were the only ones with our windows open.

Now when I tell you the weather was just perfect, throw that sweatshirt from the morning in the back seat when you get in to head home your t-shirt just fine perfect? The sun setting sitting setting just right, not blinding, no you don’t need your unnecessary too cool shades perfect?  A breeze that is just, just, as you sit at traffic lights with a comfy elbow out?  Yeah, it was that perfect. That finally weather, the weather with a small time window that you’ll eventually hark back on not too long from now, annoyingly so, but fondly, as you do every year, about how you wish it could have stayed like this when the heat comes.

Yet I noted so many closed windows, so many driving closed with what, all I can assume, is their AC on already. Really?! 6 months or so of cooped closed windows at home, at the office if you were there, in your car because Winter and when you finally get a chance for some fresh air, especially now, you keep your windows closed and go for the AC?

I mentioned this to a best of friend at work who sheepishly raised a hand.

“it’s because it seems kind of oppressive” he said.

“No, no it doesn’t” I said with an eyebrow.

“But to go from the cold to this it can definitely feel kind of oppress …”

I let him trail off as his justification was just lame.

Now admittedly I don’t like AC, I hate it. At work? Well, that is what it is when it is and I have my at work zip up hoodie at the ready just in case. But given the choice? No, I ain’t using it if I’m in a position to not. I haven’t used AC in the car since I lived in Florida for a short time and that was 20+ years ago and even then it was as infrequent as possible. Not wanting the need to maybe change my shirt the second I clocked in the only reason for it. Hell, I’ve owned BB going on 4 years now and I’m not even really sure if his AC works. I mean, I tried it once when I first bought him, just a check it kind of thing, but it didn’t do a lot of AC’ing, just a lot of air blowing, was probably in need of a re-charge I thought but? That would be a waste of money since I’m not going to use it especially as that runs around 150 bucks or so these days.

At home? I had one of those inside, on wheels droid looking things with a vent hose for a window when I first took my now going on 7 years singleness on the road to an apartment in Hyde Park. It was really just a noisy bother and only eventually had me laying things on or over it, usually Pirates hats or a Tees first step before the hamper and repeating Star Wars lines at it …  “This isn’t the AC droid you’re looking for … ”

My wonderful little apartment here for the last 3 now going on 4 summers has central air and I know that “central air” can, for some, call heavenly horns right? The thing realtors surely sell hard, but for me it’s a just a thing, a thing I won’t use.

I have fans and open windows with bought cat seats or fashioned storage binned ones with towel tops. I mean why even have the idea of an open window if you can’t sit in it with a cat and see and hear and feel their view?

I like open widows and being aware of the sound outside of them. Throw in some fans for the summer and I’m all set. I want to hear the singing of birds and bugs in the morning and the trains that used to pass just across the Hudson in my Hyde Park apartment at night, inspiring clickety clackety clack bad poetry. I want to hear traffic in the distance, sirens and stories imagined, to hear neighbors fighting or laughing or cooking with plate and silverware sounds, wondrous things that waft scents and clicks up the stairs, open windows. I refuse to not hear the world, to not feel natural breezes aided with a fan or two, to not have to curse when rains come and I have to close them.

Here, at times, I’ve heard the owls at night or the roosters in the morning, the cows when they’re cowing and reminding of cow wants, the sniffing and huffing of horses, dogs barking and cats occasionally reminding other cats to back the fuck off. I want to hear the lawn mower possibly wake me from an early Saturday afternoon nap after I spent Friday night being an idiot and staying up too late like I was a kid again, I want that to hear that mower wake me and throw at me some of the sweetest of newly cut grass smells.

Can’t your closed window AC just take a sec, till when you really have the need for your creature comfort to then bitch about the heat later? Just take a sec to air stuff out now on a perfect of Spring rides home?

As she drove off, that somewhat younger mom, I applauded her moment, my moment, a not quiet one for sure, Mom’s a knockin’, maybe on the way for a pick up of the kids to fill that mini-van with a different not quite musical noise, a one of obligation and love but she had her loud windows open, for just a bit, welcoming a real breeze … with a soundtrack. A loud soundtrack.

Cheers somewhat younger Mom.

The Continuing Chronicles Of A Crazy Cat Lady Guy: Spring (a window)

cricket spring breeze

(over a couple of weekends)

Though it was still a bit chilly earlier, an open window, even for a moment, grabbed a fan of Cricket the Blind

Cricket the Blind:

Dude?

What?

Forecast

What?

Not too cold

Ok, and?

Ummmm?

Oh, right. Open

Thanks. Tomorrow too?

Yep, will do

///////////////////////////////////////

bella spring breeze

Still a bit chilly but …

Bella:

Where is she?

Who?

That Cricket cat

Cricketing somewhere

You know I don’t like her right?

Yes, well aware

I didn’t say this out loud

Say what? Almost can’t hear you

She has her smart moments, finding this open window an’ all yesterday

Yes she does

///////////////////////////////////////

mimi spring breeze #1

mimi spring breeze #2

Some chilly a bit still but Spring open window sprung

Mimi the Quirky:

They anywhere near?

No

No blind air sniffs?

No

No that one that’s always here?

No

It’s all mine?

Yep

Cool, fuck them

Gotcha

///////////////////////////////////////

Cricket singin'

Because there is always a Monty Python reference to be made

Steve, I’d rather just … sing

Stop that, stop that, you’re not going into a song while I’m ‘ere

Trumpy Snacks (song)

After spending a bit of time with my last one, Cult Orange Taxi, which I wasn’t sure of (better than I initially thought … much) I revisited this one. 

It’s one I thought to leave on a shelf but with some listens again it’s not all that bad plus, it’s my blog, I am the only arbiter so why the hell not? Crap or no.

This is one of my favorite tunes from the 90’s and I absolutely love the video, it’s a just TOO cool. Man those shoes.

Fun Loving Criminals, “Scooby Snacks” with the Tarantino movie quotes an all.

Should it probably still sit on a shelf of the maybe’s? 

Maybe … maybe not.

 

Trumpy Snacks

“Everybody be cool, this is an insurrection!”

 

Don and lack facts set the track long ago   

His act election taint would be the big blow  

After mail in lies re-votes’ll be where the enemy goes

He exulted to podiums

Future fraud agendum

And lies don’t matter much

He bought with no cost

Small minds all loudly and blindly so

Singin’

Donnie Donnie Donnie

 

(Is this some Fascist-T love thing happening here people or what?)

 

When loss came the long game went into play

Cries rang out loud … that this was a no go

He couldn’t have lost … hell he even said so

Statistically not possible and numbers were his go go

Made up as they were he couldn’t have been wrong  

They thought singin’ all dumb dumb days long

So they listened to him being done so so wrong

Not to just to him but them that was a no no

 

“Look, I don’t know anything about any fucking election fraud
You can torture me all you want”


“Torture you, that’s good, that’s a good idea, I like that

 

Runnin’ around spoutin’ lies all whacked off on Trumpy snacks

We’ll take your commands

Rush the gates all whacked off on Trumpy Snacks

 

And Pence don’t give a fuck about a noose’s close call

If self respect was in height he’s only inches tall

He op-eds big lie, like he’s money

Though Trump had hoped his feet dangled funny

 

Ron Johnson chimes new times explanation

Antifa hell bent on insurrection

And try blame Pelosi for not calling in Nat guard

10,000 strong Trump numbers lie song

Revisionists don’t care much what they get wrong

Say it enough and it’ll last days years long

But in the meantime you’re votes we leave charred

Suppression will and always be in their yard

Cause they can’t win without playing that card

 

Trumpy, we need you, are we fools?

Nah, you’re tools

 

Runnin’ around spoutin’ lies all whacked off on Trumpy snacks

We’ll take your commands

rush the gates all whacked off on Trumpy Snacks

 

Muddy the waters make the rounds

All whacked off on Trumpy Snacks

Nothin’ to see pundits sound

All whacked off on Trumpy Snacks  

 

You got nothin’ on him

Nothin’

It was no big deal

 

To Pee Or Not To … (song)

So here at House Wiltse (my latest nom of this place – I’ve penned quite a few of them over the last 3+ years always imagining whichever one on a shingle hanging above the front porch) there are a couple or a few or a number of cats. That’s downstairs by the way. You are already well aware, I’m sure, of my upstairs couple or a few or a number of or a three now or a four twice or a five once or even the momentary more when I’ve made the mistake of leaving my door open while doing a load of clothes. But there are a couple or a few or a number of cats downstairs and with that any number comes the occasional issue.

“Hey! Off the counter!”

“Hey! Don’t be swattin’!”

“Hey! I’m wearing a black sweatshirt and don’t have one those sticky rolly things!”

You just learn to roll with them and wear lighter colors.

This is small stuff though, small cat stuff you just navigate knowing that that it is part of the deal. But sometimes the “occasional issue” is one that is more than just a butt push to the floor or an admonishment to be nice or a back off from the sweatshirt you hairy hair hairy. Sometimes it’s an actual issue, like peeing where peeing shouldn’t happen. That’s what litter and its boxes are for right? Not so much it seems.

Celie (my landlady for those that don’t know or land-bestie as my friend Jonna likes to put it) texted me just a week or so ago that she had a song idea for me (you may have noticed I’ve been wont to a parody song or two over the last few years) after one of the couple of or a few of or a number of cats downstairs decided to eschew the litter box and just go free rein, free pee rein.

Cujo.

Again.

She got the thought of the chorus of Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me” in her head just with a Cujo pee tint as he surely looked at her and cat said “what?”

I decided to go with that thought and thought some silly while I was at it.

It Wasn’t Me, I Didn’t Pee

 

Yo, Handsome … Open up man

What do you want Cujo?

Mom just caught me

Seriously?

I don’t know how

Where?

In the shower, you know

Man

I don’t know what to do

Well, say it wasn’t you

 

Alright

 

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

 

How could you forget that Mom’s the one who owns this villa

She’s got sixth senses that snap up on her pilla

You keep this up she’s gonna be your killa

She knows it’s you even got ya on camera

Before you were dumb and strolled off into the shower

These humans got tech to catch you any hour

Yeah that’s video your ass up on stovetop

You gotta say it wasn’t you to save you from the next stop

 

But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)
Saw me peein’ on the stovetop (I didn’t pee)
Even saw me in corners (It wasn’t me)
Yeah she caught me on camera (I didn’t pee)
Saw scratches on the floorboards (It wasn’t me)
Smelled the smell that made her nose curl (I didn’t pee)
Heard her screams when she discovered (It wasn’t me)
I couldn’t stay so I took off

 

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

 

Act like nothing happened, that it’s no big deal  

Walk your Cujo walk, denial in your cool

See if you can sing another cat’s fault song

Maybe Sunny with who you don’t get along  

You’re gonna be banished from house for real

You’ll be pushin’ daisies soon for just this deal

You’ll be out garage, house life won’t last

Get caught again and 9th life will pass  

 

But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)
Saw me peein’ on the stovetop (I didn’t pee)
Even saw me in corners (It wasn’t me)
Yeah she caught me on camera (I didn’t pee)
Saw scratches on the floorboards (It wasn’t me)
Smelled the smell that made her nose curl (I didn’t pee)
I heard the screams when she discovered (It wasn’t me)
I couldn’t stay so I took off

 

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

 

Gonna blame some other

For the smell that I’ve caused

Gotta be some other cat who goes and pees against doors

I will tell her that maybe it’s because of the dogs

I’ll just make sure they don’t catch me

When they figure mad cause

 

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

 

Celie came in

She caught me red handed

It wasn’t me I do say

I didn’t pee I will say

Celie came in then

She caught me red handed

It wasn’t me

Meow

The Continuing Chronicles Of A Crazy Cat Lady Guy: 3 Computer Chairs

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Okay. I’m gonna stop ya right now, before you even start getting all high an mighty about how I should know my place, that I shouldn’t go shootin’ above my station, that I should just keep my head down and defer.  But I have THREE computer chairs now. Suck it.

Like the finest of the fine with doilies under every lamp, majestic chandeliers hanging over your head in grand vestibules when your entry has been announced with white gloves and tails, like momma being too particular and always thinking of the big day and it’s company I have an extra computer chair now, twice, three computer chairs being two more than yours. Alright, that’s a little much, there’s no correlation in sounding all privilege and 3 computer chairs by the way.  It’s just me being dramatic but still feeling a bit fancy. No, I have no idea how three computer chairs equates to fancy, it’s just the seeming and joking excess that’s kinda cool. 

You see Cricket the Blind is a pain in the ass. However much she may be good sleep company, the best of sleep company, grabbing that nook between two pillows with a paw on a shoulder and the comfiest of a night’s almost sleep when you need it the most she is an awful computer cat. Always squirmy and moving, never settled. Thus, a third chair.

Typing around her, a right hand click click with a left hand butt hold, or a left hand click click with a right hand butt hold, she always proves to be just no good at this Steve wants words with both hands thing.

Three computer chairs

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There was a sun room and a blind cat. A room and a cat I would make my way to, a destination, on a daily basis when I first moved in here after convincing Celie that I was an alright guy (yes Todd Snider, I gotchya) convincing her that there was nothing to be concerned with, with a me, when it came to this new soon to not be stranger venturing into her house, and through the kitchen with hello’s to all the kit gang, Hey Honey Bob Tail “Boo”, Hi Handsome, Sharky, Bunny, what’s up Chubs and a prairie dog stand up, Lola, Florida, Cujo, Trucker under the table on a chair, the always Bruce owning this place with his Billy Idol smirk’s seeming disdain, others I may be missing, yes, Bella Bird, you too and I got your new water and then into the sun room. Cricket was an extra hello that I found necessary. She still needs a pick up to behind my right ear daily as I always did when I would finally make my way to the back of the house and that sunroom.

Then came some new company in this sunroom spot and I worried of Cricket the Blind and the interaction with a blind cat and a newbie.

“I can bring her upstairs with me for right now” I said to Celie, trying to avoid the possibilities of a bad meet between the two.

That “for right now” has turned into 3 years and an always right now. She has found a singular human, has found that daily shoulder behind the right ear lift. But she is, as a I mentioned earlier, a pain in the ass. Everything that cats do, from water bowling, to meowing to litter boxing Cricket does annoyingly. The water in bowls is an argument she makes with it, splashingly and messily, her meowing is more a loud meowl sounding wail like she’s mourning a loss, the litter in its box is a fight she picks with it throwing it about around her like some well crafted scene from a martial arts movie with kicks and lunges and tosses or a bugs bunny-like digging a hole or tunnel, dirt/litter cartoonishly being thrown behind her.

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When I sit down to scribble key a few words it’s usually with a Memes on my desk on a bar towel, always looking not quite comfy and a part of the quirky, a Bella in a chair next to me (she always has to be) and a Cricket asleep in my former ass warm spot in front of a leaned wall pillow on the bed. But then Cricket will awake, “She is ALIVE!”, lightly stepping down to the floor and then to roomba around spots in this little place, head bump turn, meowl, head bump turn, meowl, head bump turn.

Eventually the head bump turn roomba meowling will put her at my feet and the need of a pick up … to my lap and being a bad computer cat. But I noted that when I find the need to get up, to pee, grab another beer, or to just get up to walk a bit around this place, surveying my comfort, she’ll be all good with a lay down on my chair. Another ass warm spot. That’s when I realized if only for another chair. One for cricket, one for Bella and one to sit in with a Memes cat in a lap after she wants off her bar towel as she’s the best at that cat lap sit, just on my left hip.  If I get a fourth chair you might wanna call someone for an intervention. 

But I think I’m good with three now. I know, it sounds crazy cat lady guy-like but it really is somewhat practical from my perspective and, again, almost kinda fancy but … well, it works and I can type with both hands. Right Memes?

Memes and a computer lap