Category Archives: Cats Worldwide

Was it all just a dream?

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This ‘Cat Mate‘ thing is hardly a mate of mine, as it usually Cat Matesignifies my turn to look after the flat while the ‘resident dreamer‘ goes off on some travelling escapade involving some culinary adventure.

This time I decide to curl up and go off on a dream of my own…

Chillout cat

 

 

 

 

 

I experience a scary start as I dream of my feral compatriots roaming a busy square in search of boiled sheep heads; brains, tongue, cheek and eyeballs are hardly the kind of adventure that this dreamer ascribes to…

Jemaa El Fnaa [1]A cat of my stature has standards, so in my slumbers I slink through the mad traffic and madder pedestrians in search of something less challenging and more salubrious. Local cuisine has to be the source of great food.

Jemaa El Fna [3]Then in a quiet corner of my imagination I spy potential…

Le Tanjia [7]

 

 

 

 

… Le Tanjia, home of finest Moroccan Cuisine draws me in for further investigation. The cats around this area seem to meander more slowly and present themselves with a more satisfied look. But nothing in my dreams prepared me for the welcome:

Le Tanjia dancer [1]

Le Tanjia [3]

 

The decor is dimly lit, in a delightfully historic setting, so the scene is set up for a true feast to match. ‘Lamb Couscous with Seven Vegetables‘ and ‘Lamb with Prunes and Pine Nuts Tagine‘ sets the taste buds racing; but then the lamb simply melts in the mouth and brings involuntary ‘mmhs’ from everyone who tastes it…

Le Tanjia [4]

La Mamounia [13]

 

How do you top off a meal like that… a stylish Mojito seemed to be the solution to my dreams… then it is time for a deeper slumber.

Unfortunately, at this point I hear the key in the door, and it seems that ‘resident dreamer‘ is returning to disturb my routine. Oh well, until we speak again I will be a Juno continuing to dream of the delights of Marrakech… a long distance away from the ‘Cat Mate’ contraption.

Tales from Dumbfuckistan [3]

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“It’s colder than a well digger’s ass” or so Tom Waits once said. So, with recent news of record-breaking low temperatures my warm heart goes out to all Dumbfuckers (a.k.a. the residents of Dumbfuckistan). I was stunned to see all of those red states turning blue, in the climatological sense, that is… heaven forbid that a good shafting from a polar vortex would bring any political sense into play.

Here is a recent photograph taken in Michigan:

Entombed by the weather: This lighthouse in Michigan resembles a giant icicle after crashing waves were frozen around it by a severe winter storm

Anyone for a show, how about Chicago on ice?:

Ice builds up along Lake Michigan at North Avenue Beach as temperatures dipped well below zero on January 6, 2014 in Chicago, Illinois. (Scott Olson/Getty Images/AFP)

Views of the Ohio River bring memories of the Robbie Robertson song Somewhere Down the Crazy River (though apologies to frozen readers, as this track is altogether steamier):

Picture of a barge on the Ohio River surrounded by steam coming off the water.

But then my ‘resident ghoul‘ came up with the heart warming news that a new series of the US TV programme Criminal Minds had started. Nothing better for bringing some new year cheer than some gory tales of the work of sadistic serial killers. There must be enough raw material in Dumbfuckistan to keep a Behavioural Analysis Unit in business for eternity…

 

What with the Crime Scene Investigation (CSI) franchises, the Law & Order franchises, NCIS, and practically the whole output of the Universal and FX Channels, my ‘in-house amateur sleuth‘ just can’t get enough mayhem and carnage for one lifetime. Just as well we cats are reported to have nine lives. However Dumbfuckers, I am sorry to poke your already frozen brain cell with an icicle, but by my calculations most of your population by 2020 will be divided into vics & perps… which will make sleuthing easier, because, by definition, anyone not yet croaked must be a serial killer! Good luck with the running and screaming vibe… just when you think you have escaped one serial killer there is another just around the corner.

In the meantime Michigan, and Ohio, and Nebraska, and Oklahoma, and y’all, if you think this is what I am looking like at the moment…

 … think again. I am sending you some virtual warmth, but until we speak again I am keeping the real stuff for me, a warm and cozy Juno.

     I’m watching you:

Full face

A Dumbfuckistan Christmas

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With rotting thanksgiving turkey drumsticks littering the yard a whole three weeks after they had been discarded Clint Junior III knew it was time to get in his demands for christmas before the younger competition cottoned on to the annual ritual. After all, his younger siblings Earl, Cheyenne, Savannah and Walt still seemed distracted by the imminent arrival of the triplets (already named Sky, Harper and Brett II even before the gender of each is known). Seems like one more local dude from the neighbourhood bars has unwittingly gone out for a few Buds on a March night only to become the unsuspecting star of a Father Christmas Horror Show nine months later. But Clint Jnr. was nothing if not resourceful, and knew it probably meant one more sucker to roll, down on his luck in guilt city. The local cats are busy welcoming the festive season in with traditional style:

        

But on one of his rare sojourns into school, in search of a pack of Lucky Strikes, Clint Jnr. had recently lucked upon a strange tale about christmas, something about wise-asses and a star opening up the door to loads of gifts. He may not have been the largest wing in the bucket but he had a sixth sense when it came to personal gain for minimal effort. If he could spell out this story to all the family, as they gather around the daily delivery of a grease mountain from the Colonel’s Giblet Shack, he would be in the driving seat… he gets first dibs when it comes to staking a claim on the spending of the welfare check down at the local mart.

  Aunt Ruby and Aunt Krystal were always first to arrive at the smell of the chicken and fries, and always had their own unique ways of interrupting a story with their own interpretation. Clint Jnr. only has to make the merest suggestion that three wise men are on the scene when Ruby shrieks “I remember them… it’s George, Don and Dick.” To which Krystal can’t help but spit a few fries across the table trying to remember which Dick… “There were so many…”.

Who needs a horse’s ass for a manger when you have Dumbfuckistan’s finest on hand? Clint Jnr. remembered the story had a star and a hill or something that the wise men were trying to get back to, but was more distracted by the idea that the kid in the house gets all the presents. Ruby downs another Rolling Rock, belches for attention-seeking effect, and announces that she has solved the puzzle… without any thought of irony she says “Jesus, that star must be Obama; how did he become a messiah? I heard that Washington joint is a bit of a stable. Come back Dick and George and Don… grant Clint Jnr. all his christmas wishes.”

Clint Jnr. licked the grease from his fingers, and lead the crescendo of praise around the table and worn out armchairs for their place in the land of the brave and the free… “This christmas I think I would like a personally monogrammed drone.” he said, as he grew ever more comfortable into a vision of yet another all-American defender of the constitution. He was rapidly outgrowing the Remington 12 gauge shotgun and Smith & Wesson handgun he received last christmas. As the warmth of christmas spirit filled the land, all in the National Riffle Association could raise a glass to their latest convert. Meanwhile every self-respecting parent should be thinking more seriously about personal home tuition for the kids, instead of enrolling into the local state sponsored target range (aka school).

Personally, I have been Juno, and until we meet again I am glad I live where I do.

Nelson was a cool cat

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For all he did for black cats everywhere I am truly saddened to hear the news of the passing of Nelson Mandela. Though amongst the millions of sincere outpourings of grief and reminiscence, it does leave me coughing up fur balls to witness some of the politicians clambering onto the number one bandwagon of the moment. The great man himself said in the Pretoria courthouse in 1962 “If I had my time over I would do the same again. So would any man who calls himself a man.” Fortunately for South Africa and the world he had another 51 years left, and fulfilled a considerable promise.

As I contemplate lunch…    … and lie back to    listen to the ongoing tributes, I am sure that the Gorgeous Georges’ of the US & UK (Dubya and Osbourne) would act on Mandiba’s advice, in not hesitating to do the same again. Though for them it would more likely be a case of screwing over the many for the benefit of their already rich mates. David Cameron spoke of ‘ his heart going out to [his] family and the people of South Africa’… I say prep Operating Theatre 1 for surgery quickly.

Desmond Tutu, the patron saint of the drawn match (2-2, come on, keep up!), said of Mandela “He was renowned the world over as the undisputed icon of forgiveness and reconciliation.” I am sure I can adopt that lead, when my ‘appointed servant’ gets their act together and provide me with more of that roast turkey from Cardiff Market. Bill Clinton said “Nelson Mandela taught us so much about so many things…” Personally, I do hope that Mandela was not a cigar smoker, as even Bill must have had some original thoughts of his own.

Perhaps I need to cast our memories back a few decades (or ‘dickheads’ as Nelson pronounced it) to find the true essence of the person. Some old dame or another became famous for repeatedly referring to Mandela as a terrorist… well the first thought that comes to my mind is that it takes one to know one, particularly if you build a career on terrorising the weak and the poor of your own country in order to break the spirit of the hard working people in the industrial communities. The following image sums up contrasting leadership styles: a warm smiling generous spirit who can stand upright and proudly face all people, and a hunched evil purveyor of misery always looking over their shoulder (make your own choice as to which is which)…

Margaret Thatcher and Nelson Mandela

The only real tribute this cat can pay to the passing of an icon is to try and follow the lead he embodied through his life. With this in mind, I am stoically trying to shoulder the pressures and burdens of my imprisonment in my own personal Robben Island:

Sunshine at 14 2           Plotting an escape

And I can only sit and wile away the time as I contemplate my own personal long walk to freedom. When I am finally released I promise to treat all cats equally… the strange albino types, ginger toms, even those fluffy persian types (who I am sure have nothing to do with any accusations of terrorism based solely on their middle-eastern sounding origins). Until we speak again I have been Juno, and I can only sign off today with an R.I.P. Johannesburg Cool Cat.

Tales from Dumbfuckistan [2]

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       It really makes my day when the self-proclaimed centre of the universe applies my rules to the way it operates. Take that Obama guy, he seems like a really cool cat, but he is learning that the job is a bit like trying to herd us cats.

            

Why, just the other day, when I was talking to my in-house staff, it was difficult getting them to understand that decisions are really important, they are what keep the order in our little world, they prevent the chaos from taking over. What we decide together is just fine… that is, until I decide I want to do something else. Take for example the food thing… we can all agree that eating healthily at reasonable intervals is a good thing, and even Adolf the Vet was recently making some speech about it while prizing open my mouth and muttering something about plaque build-up. I fully support the idea, and I see where everyone is coming from… but right now I demand my rights under whatever amendment to the constitution states that my bowl is to be refilled even if there is another couple of hours until so-called ‘reasonable time’!

                   As we venture out into the busy city I fully support the need for all these traffic lights. I get that the roads would be in an even bigger state of carnage if there was a highway free-for-all attitude. However, as much as I am one of the first to sign up to that decision, there is the matter of my constitutional right to uphold my personal rainbow ethic, and to

proceed forward on whatever colour I wish…    

I am the first to say that the whole health thing is important for all of us. I don’t know how I would get by if my servant staff were to succumb to ill health… it would probably cause an inconvenience to my usual sleep patterns… I might have to put up with as little as 20 hours a day.

      The National Health Service is a great reassurance to me, and I am of the opinion it should remain free at the point of delivery for all those who can afford to pay for it… upfront… no scrounging.

Then of course there is the democracy thing, where everyone gets to have a vote… the only problem being that sometimes the majority get it wrong. Can Turkeys really be trusted on the vote about christmas dinner? Of course us cats believe in democracy, why else would we throw a big tea party to celebrate the generosity of imposing our minority vote on the masses who are plain too dumb to get it right by themselves?

[All images downloaded from free ‘images of…’ sites on the internet].

I am the leader of the Juno party, and as soon as my subjects understand the principle of what is mine is mine, and what is their’s is mine, the sooner we will re-establish the true order of democracy. These are the fine traditions on which our supremacy is built, and on which we are able to impose the freedom of democracy on all other groups in the animal kingdom… it is our responsibility to keep despotic dawgs on a tight leash, until they learn our way is the only way. I fully intend to share more of my thoughts with you again, as soon as I bring the domestic economy of my deluded house mates crashing down… and let that be a lesson to them.

Tales from Dumbfuckistan

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I seem to recall one George W Bush referring to many of the Eurasian countries as ‘the Stans’, which served well to demonstrate his expansive knowledge of world geography. While it came across to me as a simple way of grouping together totally separate countries, such as Pakistan, Afghanistan, Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and others, he was clearly overlooking his own backyard… Dumbfuckistan.

I mention this because, being a cat for a stat, I was completely blown away (excuse the advanced pun) by a couple of articles about life in the US recently. The first was all about my cuddly cousins, with an all out assault on our favourite pass-time of baiting and killing other dumb creatures.

    According to academic sources we kill ‘billions’ of other creatures in the US each year. Not to be outdone, we clock up millions each year in the UK apparently, though my resident protector of the environment doesn’t allow me to join in, I just get to exercise vivid imagination, particularly where ‘dwaugs’ are concerned…….                    So, somehow we are the villains of the peace, when all we are trying to do is rid you lot of vermin and bring you warm gifts. At least we are doing our bit to keep researchers in jobs for obscure biology conservation institutes.

       Did I mention ‘a couple’ of articles? Well it was the more recent one by Henry Porter in the Observer newspaper on 22nd September 2013 that had me nearly falling off my cushion… ‘American gun use is out of control. Shouldn’t the world intervene?‘

    With all the uproar about cats killing other creatures it seems to me that we have nothing to learn from you folk; at least we rarely go around randomly killing each other. These stories from the US about yet another gun massacre is one thing, but when you see all the statistics lined up end-to-end it blows your brains out (sorry!).

Total number of Americans killed in all wars from Lexington 1775 up to Afghanistan today is officially recorded as 1,171,177. Total number of civilians killed by guns (including suicides) from the killing of Edward Kennedy in 1968 to today is 1,384,171. Almost a quarter of a million more in 45 years than in the last 238 years of warfare. And still they demand their rights to an outdated second amendment to keep and bears arms, drawn up in days when the wild west was in vogue and coffee (or is that corrfee?) came in only one option, hot and wet.

         Henry Porter reminds us that since 9/11, when just under 3000 people died in that atrocity, there have been 20 terror-related deaths and 364,000 caused by privately owned firearms. Apparently, if the US witnessed that sort of carnage taking place in another country they would be hurtling down the United Nations by-pass on a mission to restore sanity, introduce democracy, and relieve the locals of their richer natural resources. For a nation notorious for its lack of passports and ambition for travel, perhaps the rest of us cats should be thankful… the less of their culture they export the better! If the obesity doesn’t get you the bullet probably will.

If Syrians had any humanity they would threaten to invade the US; after all, any country where over 32,000 of its own are being killed by its own every year has some serious anger issues, and probably needs some externally sourced mediation!

Then there is the advertising and accessorising of guns for little kids… a truly remarkable statement of a sick culture.

[All cartoons accessed from ‘images of…’ sites on the internet].

The style of entertainment has been slightly different this week, but I am still Juno, mainly because I don’t live in America. For those of you who do… stay indoors, lock all your doors, and listen out for the sound of the safety clip being released.