A mancat thing

So the bailout is stalled again. Why am I not surprised?

I wouldn't want to give the impression that I care what goes on in the television, but it's mildly interesting, and what else would a cat write about? Mom surprised me while I was napping so I bit her and she got mad. How interesting is that?

I do have my own perspective on this Big Three bailout, dating to the time in my reckless youth when I was a wandering tom and joined a feral community. Feral cats are regular domestic cats that are hoboes. We stay for a while in a sort of community wherever there is a reliable food source. If I have one regret in life, it's that I have never lived on a Greek fishing island. But this wasn't too bad, a camp that rented out to various kids' groups. I will say, you can easily get your fill of kittens, all that whining.

The female cats had a certain sort of organization by the dumpsters, each one having her own little territory. But they would form friendships too, sitting together, rubbing faces.

Male cats now, we are a different story. We don't need to cooperate to kill, and certainly not to mate, and we don't believe in sharing. It's a mancat thing. Someone that can't catch his own mouse is out of luck.

You are wondering, what does that have to do with the political squalling going on over the bailout? Think of it this way. The Democrats are like female cats. Cooperative. Well, somewhat. Always worried about feeding the kids. And The Republicans are like male cats. The biggest toughest cat gets the wren. Share? You're kidding.

So what's so unusual about that Illinois governor, anyway? It has to amaze you, how human beings are always making up rules that fly in the face of instinct.