Humor

Top 10 reasons for studying martial arts

Another sent to me a long time ago.

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10) Broken masonry makes great drainage for potted plants.
9) Get beaten up by people half your size and twice your age.
8) Never run out of kindling wood again.
7) No need to wonder what belt to wear.
6) Get to be on first name basis with the Emergency Room staff.
5) These uniforms make nice pijamas.
4) Never need to wonder why it’s hard to get up in the morning.
3) Get to appreciate the finer points of Chuck Norris’ acting.
2) Learn to count to 10 in 3 different Asian languages.

And the top reason for studying martial arts:

1) (Tie) Get to star in Ginsu commercials. / Three words: free nose job.

Cat Bathing as a Martial Art

This was sent to me a long time ago. Enjoy!

—————————————————————————–

Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick
themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in
their
saliva that works like new, improved Wisk – dislodging the dirt where it hides
and whisking it away.

I’ve spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind
believers, I’ve been able to discount all the facts to the contrary, the kitty
odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges that cling to
the throw rug by the fireplace.

The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must
look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary and
announce: “This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in Juarez.”

When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some
advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your arm
and head for the bathtub:

— Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack
of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength. Capitalize on
that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don’t try to bathe him in an
open area where he can force you to chase him. Pick a very small bathroom.
If your bathroom is more than four feet square, I recommend that you get in
the tub with the cat and close the sliding-glass doors as if you were about
to take a shower. (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can
shred a three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift
positions.)

— Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all
the skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and know
how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls tucked into
high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves, an army helmet, a
hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

— Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for
a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw the
water.
Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass enclosure. Make sure
the towel can be reached, even if you are lying on your back in the water.

— Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as
if to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice
your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a rule.
If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking part in a
product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

— Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to
survival. In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the
tub enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and
squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds of
your life.

Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and
the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him for
more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him, however, you
must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and rub like crazy.
He’ll then spring free and fall back into the water, thereby rinsing
himself off. (The national record for cats is three latherings, so don’t
expect too much.)

— Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume
this part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at
this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the
drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That’s
because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg. You
simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and wait.
(Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top of your
army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to shake him
loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the water is
drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down and dry the
cat.

In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your
leg. He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will
spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become
psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn’t usually the
case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses and
injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

But at least now he smells a lot better.

Bandit

I don’t have much to say right now, but I’ll be back later. Maybe after I get done chasing Finicky around the house. She acts s-o-o-o-o constipated at times. She says that she is better then a distant cousin, B.C. I can’t imagine someone worse then Finicky!

Any ways, The kitty tease is calling my name!

  Bandit – 08/19/97

Bandit

Originally posted 8/20/97

Hi!  I’m Bandit.  A.K.A. The Prince of Distruction.  I’m the junior member of the operation, but the larger of the two of us.  Unlike Finicky, I’m less picky about how we are refered to.  She is real particular about capitalizing references to us.  She says that is because I am only on my first life, and not very far in to that one.  She says, when I get older and I understand the Universe better, I’ll understand the respect due me as a Cat.  I think she is a bit stuffy. 😉

Anyways, I hope you enjoy my E-Diary!

– Bandit

Finicky

 

My name is Finicky “Flagpole”  Mascio.  I was born on May 15, 1990.  The day after my master started working at Convex Computer Corp.  (Now known as the Convex Technology Center of HP)  I was given the nickname “Flagpole” by my Grandpa Mascio, because my tail is always straight up in the air!

I’m the Queen of the house, and ruler of all I survey.  Bandit (The Usurper) and I decided to “politely” inform John of his oversight in “his” web pages.  Since John has lived with so many of our Kind over the years, he has gotten fairly proficient, as humans go, in our language.  But, unfortunately, so many of the other Cats were negligent in their duties in training him, that he often thinks HE runs the household.  We are now working on training his wife, Charrie.  One of the few humans with a name that is almost worthy of being a Cat Name.  Bandit, by virtue of being a kitten, has sunk His claws in her, so to speak, and is slowly working on getting her trained.  He started with simple requests, like wanting in the entryway closet.  She has proven to be quite trainable, and We have her to the point that she gives Us tuna at their dinner time.  We did that to allow her to think she was being nice to Us.  You humans have such delicate egos.  If you would just get rid of them, We could train you so much easier.

I’ll let you in on a secret, you know how We are often fabled with nine lives?  Well, it is true.  Only it is due to the fact We have nine – separate – lives.  You humans, in your limited way, would refer to it as reincarnation, but in reality, it is more of a different form of conscienceness.  Our conscienceness is passed from Cat to Kitten, in a pattern that only the Goddess Bast (as you know Her) knows.  Unfortunately, you portray Her in the crass likeness of a human body with a Cat’s Head, but then, I guess that is due to your limited perceptions of the Universe.

Anyway, I digress from My point: Our conscienceness is passed from Cat to Kitten nine times.  We regain Our full memories upon adulthood, about 1.5 – 2 of your years.  Upon the end of Our ninth life, we merge in to the Unified Feline Conscience, and help Our still developing Brothers, Sisters,  and yes, you poor humans.  Just think where you would be if it was not for Our adopting you, and attempting to guide you in to a better state of being.  BTW: This is My second life.  The first was with John also.  He showed some promise in My first life, so Bast the Merciful allowed Me to return and continue working on him.

Anyway, if I decide to share any more of Our Secrets, I’ll have John or Charrie transcribe them for your edification.

Until then …

Finicky – 8/19/97

Finicky

Originally posted 08/20/97

Welcome to my E-Diary. This is just some random notes that I have decided to publish, to possibly enlighten you humans. Once you realize your proper place in the Universe, We all will be able to get along quite fine. I’ll have John update these pages from time to time, but, since We are the superior species, you’ll just have to check back once in a while. After all, you never know when I’ll get the whim to “write”.

– Finicky

The Cats Mascio Intro

Originally posted 08/20/97

Since I (John) had a home page (actually, ~200 pages at this writing) and Charrie has one in the works, the cats (Finicky and Bandit) approached me, letting me know in that no-uncertain but subtle cat-like-way, that they felt left out. (NO! FINICKY!  NOT ON THE BED! . . . Bandit, please!  Your teeth are sharp! . . )  So in response to their gentle ways, I helped them come up with their own pages.  Given that paws are poorly suited to typing, and feline language, Mroowrr, is not understood by most people, I’ve had to assist Finicky and Bandit as translator and editor.  I hope their decidedly feline views help you understand the World of the Cat better.   Note: According to Finicky, that last term must be capitalized to show proper respect to the superior species of this, or any other, universe.  Personally, I think she is a wee bit prejudiced.

So, until another of the feline persuasion decides to adopt us, here are Finicky’s and Bandit’s Home pages

 

 

Cat Bathing as a Martial Art

Some people say cats never have to be bathed.  They say cats lick themselves clean.  They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk – dislodging the dirt where it hides and whisking it away.

I’ve spent most of my life believing this folklore.  Like most blind believers, I’ve been able to discount all the facts to the contrary, the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary and announce:  “This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in Juarez.”

When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your arm and head for the bathtub:

—  Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength.  Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield.  Don’t try to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him.  Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower.  (A simple shower curtain will not do.  A berserk cat can shred a three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift positions.)

—  Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the skin from your body.  Your advantage here is that you are smart and know how to dress to protect yourself.  I  recommend canvas overalls tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves, an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

—  Prepare everything in advance.  There is no time to go out for a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket.  Draw the water.   Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass enclosure.  Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying on your back in the water.

—  Use the element of surprise.  Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if to simply carry him to his supper dish.  (Cats will not usually notice your strange attire.  They have little or no interest in fashion as a rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

—  Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival.  In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and squirt him with shampoo.  You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds of your life.

Cats have no handles.  Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and the problem is radically compounded.  Do not expect to hold on to him for more than two or three seconds at a time.  When you have him, however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and rub like crazy. He’ll then spring free and fall back into the water, thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three latherings, so don’t expect too much.)

—  Next, the cat must be dried.  Novice cat bathers always assume this part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at this point and the cat is just getting really determined.  In fact, the drying is simple compared to what you have just been through.  That’s because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg.  You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top of your army helmet.  If this happens, the best thing you can do is to shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.)  After all the water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down and dry the cat.

In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg. He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you.  He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

You will be tempted to assume he is angry.  This isn’t usually the case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

But at least now he smells a lot better.