New Member To The Mookified Compound

Look at how cute I am!

This is Gracie.  Officially her name is Sergeant Gracie Mae Lovell.  But we just call her Gracie.  She's a Yellow Lab mixed with Husky. And as I write this post, she's trying to lay on my feet... that is until I wrote that sentence, now she got up and decided to have food.  I feel she is just preparing me to go for a walk..yep, there's the singular scratch at the door signalling that I must do as I'm told before finishing what I want to do.  Just like a woman.  Speaking of women... here is proof of their craziness:



"I got it! I got it! Now what?"

Now I grew up with dogs all my life.  Gracie is the first dog I've had since leaving my parents' digs.  In all my life, the only dog I ever saw chase her tail, much less actually get it, was Odie from the Garfield cartoons and comics... until the other day.  I just assumed it was comedy on the part of animators, but it turns out this is serious real-life business.

Anyways... Last Sunday I was taking my boys up to stay the week with my parents, and the plan was to get a dog, Tucker, who had been getting nursed back to health at their local Vet hospital my mom clerks at.  It's a long story of neglect and malnutrition prior to them trying to save the dog.  On the day we were to go up, I get a call from my mom saying the dog was found dead.  Well, I had been set on getting my first adult-life dog for about 3 weeks at this point.  After doing some hunting, I found an ad on craigslist for Gracie, and she lived here in the Des Moines area.  Her previous owner had a life situation and had to find her a good home or turn her over to the ARL that same night.  So after a quick supper with my parents and saying good bye to the boys, my girlfriend and I hustled back to Des Moines to pick up this 4 month-old pup.  She's been either full steam ahead or napping it out since.

She only slowed down one day, and that was Saturday when we went back up to my parents to have her spayed and get all her shots, and then on Sunday bring her and the boys back home.  She actually rode in the car very well:

See me...I'm blond just like my new brothers!

 Oh, I was supposed to be in that seat back there?

I prefer the window seat.  Josh doesn't mind me using his lap!

The only thing about bringing Gracie into our home to really consider was The Colonel.  On night one he established himself as the top dog of the house, and asserted the difference in rank, him being an officer and her being enlisted.  As he went up to sniff her out, she moved behind a chair.  It was all over from there.  He chased her round and round the basement, him getting that puffy cat look and her running scared out of her mind with her tail tucked between her legs.  Gracie is scared of cats, and the Colonel took full advantage of his intimidation factor.  Only wish I had a video camera for that!  The basement is now been deemed solely the Colonel's territory.  He has another blue chair down there that he uses, along with the blue recliner in my bedroom he took over long before we moved into this place.  Gracie will now attempt to play assuming the "downward dog" position and trying to lunge forward a couple inches, but the cat mostly ignores her.  Unless he's in a corner, then he gets on his hind legs, hisses, and occasionally throws a couple jabs, and Gracie comes running for protection.

When outside, she is always on a leash.  She is getting better, but she is a puppy and can get distracted easily, whether its a scent trail, a moving bug, kids, people, squirrels, random sticks, trash... you get the idea.  Whenever she spies a bird on the ground, she does the classic "pointer" pose.  But she does do a decent walk along from time to time.  On the homestretch, she likes to reach back grab the leash in her mouth and give it a tug to let me know its her turn to walk me, and if I'm willing, she really loves to run along.  I don't know if that's just her thing, or the Husky side coming out.  While at my parents, who have a fenced yard, she was allowed to roam free.  At first she wasn't entirely sure what to do, but it didn't take long to go exploring.

She knows how to sit, lay down, shake, and hi-five.  I'd say she knows the STAY command, but it seems I'm not allowed to leave whichever floor we're on to go to another without her wanting to follow along...  She has grown attached to both my girlfriend and I, but she really seems to have bonded with me.  And with the Olympics on these last couple weeks, she decided to invent her own sport for us to participate in together.  I fell asleep watching TV one afternoon, as she was napping after a long hot walk.  I woke up to her having chewed a sandal, and now was trying to lick me to death.  So I got up, decided I would use the bathroom quick and then take her out for the same.  So I go to take a leak and I left the door open.  Hey it was me and the pets, so why not?  Well, she followed me over, stared at me, and then decided that her spot on the carpet in front of the bathroom was perfect to trying out her half of the "synchronized peeing" routine.  Part of me wanted to laugh, the other part wanted to cry, because I had to clean up.  That and we would've been penalized heavily on our synchronization skills since I was standing and she was squatting... We have a long ways to go if we're going to get that act into the next games down in Rio!

But anyways... She's the newest addition.  The Colonel tolerates her.  The kids love her, and she loves them right back...Josh even took her for a walk around the block at my parents.  And she seems to be quite attached to me and my girlfriend.  So I'm quite happy in how things worked out.  She got a happy home without going through the shelter system, and I finally get to have my own dog again!

And here is Gracie doing what I always wanted to do- fart on my dad!  She does me proud!!!!

Now I just need an official flag for the Mookified Compound...





Writer's Block

Writer's Block... The manifestation of creative constipation.

Constipation in its regular form can be a really painful thing to deal with. I've been through it a few times, but with the help of a product by FLEET, it can go away, often hitting you at the worst possible time in the fully opposite direction before you get to feeling normal again. I once had an issue with partial blockage, so that I did get to go #2, but wasn't getting rid of all of it. I eventually succumbed to visiting an emergency room, getting xrays and blood/urine tests to figure out what was wrong with me. When the nurse showed up with a box of Fleet enema stuff, I felt a sense of embarassment and stupidity. Instead of spending $1100 on quality American healthcare in a small town, I could've gone to the store and spent about $15 getting my own box of Fleet and a box of raisin bran to complete the homemade detoxification.

As a guy who enjoys writing, and enjoys being able to have a creative outlet, when I get this mental constipation going on, its almost worse because it isn't physical pain, but more like a feeling of depressive soul sucking depriving me of my outlet to vent whatever life incident I find humorous enough to share, or merely pandering my own ego and pushing my own brand of weirdness onto you readers.

Whether it's something the kids said or did that I found intriguing or downright hilarious, or the cat's antics for that matter, or merely some random gripe or observation about life, I like to put it out there with a little bit of the Mookified perspective. For the last couple weeks, I get some hint of inspiration to write about whatever may have happened that day, almost daily and usually at the most inconvenient times, and by the time I get in front of the computer.... it's gone. The anecdote or full blown story might be great, but I can't seem to get it from my head onto paper (or do you call this electronic paper?).

I'm not as smart and extremely adept at going after politics or social issues like some of my counterparts I follow on here (this is the one and only time I will admit to this. If you ask me face to face, I will tell you that I am the smartest person I know), I just stick with what I know, which is just basically observation of people and things around me, ocassionally being able to expound on them further as though I know what I'm talking about. Other times, its just a bunch of "Grade A" American Baloney (which I am an expert at this), as the whims bounce off my brainpan and onto this blog.

Today I'm blogging about this, just to blog, hoping that writing down SOMEthing will get my brain fired up to relieve the cerebral pressure and I can squeeze out a few more things that I actually get into for long enough to make this blog worth visiting.

Something I've noticed about this new blogger format when typing up a post....no convenient spellcheck, and I've had to come back and re-edit, searching the tools just to keep these paragraphs separate, instead of one big block jumble of words.... The problem with technology, is nothing ever seems to be good enough. And if you find something easy to use and it works for you, the companies WILL change it up and make whatever you did obsolete or non-operational. As long as they are changing, you have to change with them and do it the way THEY want you to do things, or you have to become some sort of misanthrope and miss out altogether.

And since blogging is kind of an egotistical thing for most of us- face it, this is about ego to a degree in that we actually think what we have to say matters to other people and that they should read it and follow whatever we tell them- I think they (the technology companies) have the biggest egos and get off on making us change our ways to conform to their wants, or be crushed in self defeat. I told you these bastards were evil!

Spinning My Wheels

Today I finally went to have my tire fixed. I ran over a nail two weeks ago, and have just put up with having to add a little air to replace what was lost by a super slow leak. But today, I decided I might as well get it taken care of before I go and ruin the tire completely at some point while out driving. Knowing my luck this would happen only when its really cold, really snowing, or pouring down rain like during the Noahic Flood. I figured while I was there I'd have them replace my wiper blades, since those things are in tatters. The guy comes back after 15 minutes, and tells me the wiper blades for my car are not in their stock. Apparently my car, a Saturn Aura, takes some sort of special blades, and they cost $24 a piece. Now I'm not the most mechanical guy in the world, as anyone who knows me will tell you. But c'mon $24 PER blade?? Special kind of wiper blade?

It's a friggin Saturn, it's a goddamn GM product. It's barely any different from a Chevy Malibu. The blades are just a simple piece of rubber. $24?!?!?!? You have got to be kidding me. My wallet, made of leather, costs less than that, and is clearly much more fragile than those wiper blades given the size of my paychecks, and the motherfuckers are trying to ruin my shit $24 at a time. I told them I'd look elsewhere rather than let them triple my bill for fixing my tire. Almost two hours, they remove a nail from my tire and do the patch job...after tax: $21.09. To add two wipers THAT THEY'D HAVE TO ORDER AND MAKE ME COME BACK: an additional $48 plus tax. You've got to be fucking kidding me. Speaking of ruining my shit...

The Colonel. He ruins the fine mass crafted cheap ass wood veneer that substitutes for a good door frame. He likes to use his claws on everything. The frames, the couch, the chair, the friggin carpet, my arms, hands, legs. I finally clipped his front nails... he's still a pain in the ass, but at least he doesn't hook into my skin as much and tear out half my forearm on a mere swipe of the claws. And it's not just his claws that ruin things. His bathroom habits are quite noticeable. The cat craps out his own body weight a day, even if he doesn't eat much. His piss could be used to melt through locked steel doors. It all has the great superpower of being able to overpower kitty litter of all brands. I have yet to find a quality brand that does the job they say they do. Odor reducing (I'm scared to think how bad it would be before hitting the odor reducing stuff), indoor, multiple cats (he poops enough for a bakers dozen worth of the little mangy bastards), clumping (his piss creates huge wet, smelly useless bricks of litter), spring fresh stepping kitty excrement killing sand powder. Doesn't matter. They all fail miserably. That's right, my cat is so powerful his poop and pee have reduced all of our scientific know-how in odor reducing to ashes. Yes, I have a small apartment, with relatively little ventilation, but you'd think we have something that would kill the odor. And CAT HAIR...fuck. This cat sheds enough hair to outfit 3 Chemo patients with a new wig, EACH DAY. And he doesn't look like he has lost a single hair. Until you look at my recliner, the couch, my fuzzy sweatshirt, the horse blanket on my bed, every damn spot he curls up on the carpet. Pet the little bastard and your hand looks more like that of the Abominable Snowman rather than a normal human hand!

I have joked about exiling my executive officer, but it's all been jokes up to this point. Some days I look at all the shit he ruins and I'm about ready to give him the boot. But, sadly, I like the Colonel too much to just give him up. He has his own unique personality, and I don't think too many people would really and truly "get" the Colonel and what he's about. He'd need a patient and understanding family to deal with, and probably on a two week probationary period of ownership just so he can get used to them and the new environment, while they get to find out if they really do have the patience to deal with a feline so pretentious he gave himself the title and name, Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell.

As a kitten, it was he who said this would be his name. I didn't think of that on my own. Sure, I may be creative, but that is just a bit beyond my bullshit-stretching abilities. The cat really does think that highly of himself. So he sheds, shits and claws the crap out of everything...because ultimately its his home, and I'm just allowed to remain here to feed him, offer myself up as a scratching post, and to pet him when he feels the need. But hey... looking on the bright side, at least he doesn't have fleas...anymore.

And Mother Nature has apparently decided to fuck with me too. Yesterday was beautiful out. Sunny, warm. Today is sunny, cooler but not too bad, but with a bit of a wind. Tomorrow will cool down a bit more...and on thru the weekend, into rain, then snow on Monday and friggin COLD! Apparently Mother Nature doesn't give a damn about that overgrown beaver seeing his shadow or not. It's Iowa and we WILL have winter...ALL OF IT! She decided to warm thing sup a bit, just to melt some stuff down and prepare the rivers and creeks to flood like crazy. Then, just to be on the safe side...lets add more rain and snow on top of it. Oh, and let's make sure that I have to work when it all goes to shit. Cuz I love working in crappy weather...yeah that's it.

Oh, and as has been mentioned in other forums, and is quite apparent from previous pictures of me, I rarely make a photo's quality go up by virtue of having my mug in it. A friend went through hundreds of physical photos and we found 3 acceptable ones of me. Couple of them 9-11 years old, and one that is maybe in the last 3 or 4 yrs. Nothing much in that department as far as new stuff that would qualify me as a photogenic face. I have a digital camera I got from my mom, but it needed batteries. The cheap alkaline ones pretty much die by the mere act of putting them in the camera. Last week while taking the boys to use some gift cards from Christmas, I bought some lithium batteries. I watched them go into the bag. I saw them here when I got home. And now I can't find the damn things ANY where. I didn't even open up the package. They just grew legs and walked out of here...of that I am convinced. So now I have to go out and buy some more, and then find someone who's good at tricking a camera into taking good pictures, so I can get something new to throw up that doesn't seem to emphasize my double chin, closed eyes, or some creepy look on my face. You know, so I can maybe convince someone or another that I might actually be normal...well at least until they actually talk to me. But I can at least fake out the facebook friends who've never met me as of yet.

I Need An Indestructible Mechanical Head

So, I went back to the dentist today. Now some of you know that I have only two whole real teeth left in my mouth. Well today was x-rays and cleaning, in preparation for even more work.

I once had my mouth to the point of being almost completely taken care of. Then a wisdom tooth comes out of nowhere, and due to finances at the time I couldn't afford to have it pulled so that I could re-insert my bottom partial. That was a couple years back. A few months ago I had the deteriorated wisdom tooth pulled. And now I wanted to get refitted for a new set of bottom teeth.

So I went to the dentist who insisted on checking the integrity of my two teeth. As usual, there had been some deterioration underneath where the crown had been placed. It is my opinion that the previous dentist put the crowns on too soon before allowing my mouth to heal up properly, so the crown didn't go all the way down into my gum line the way it should. The dentist didn't come out and say it, but I think she agreed.

With the current crowns, a lot of the tooth is blocked from the view of the x-rays, and they found a slight cavity, but they have no idea how big it may be underneath the crown. Lovely. Just friggin lovely. this is of course after being subjected to a long time in the torture chamber, err, dentists chair to get scraped, poked, and all cleaned up. I swear the work on those two teeth took longer to get cleaned up than any dentist in my life had taken on me when I had a full set. I've never LIKED going to the dentist, but it was never an excruciatingly dreadful experience that I freaked out about going, like some people do. But after this session, I think I'm not liking them so much anymore. The sound of them scraping my teeth reminded me of fingernails on a chalkboard, or dragging a coffee mug across a rough counter top tile. The mere thought of which makes the teeth I no longer have hurt like hell. I hate that friggin noise!

Well, I go in on Thursday to get my upper relined for a better snugger fit. Then we go to work on the two bottom teeth. One needs to have some buildup work done on it to protect the tooth underneath that crown better. Then there is the left one, the one with the cavity. They will be cutting the old crown off to inspect the extent of the cavity damage. Then we'll proceed to either fill it in and cap it, root canal it and cap it, or insert a post to hold the remainder of the tooth and new crown in place. Then we go on the partial to clip in.

I do want to thank my wife for taking a job that covers my dental needs in her benefits package, without also having to charge me for the health insurance itself as a costly prerequisite that I won't use anyways. My company offers benefits, but they cost a bit too much and aren't nearly as good as her insurance. And quite frankly I'd like to have something resembling a paycheck rather than forfeit it all for substandard insurance.

I have an immune system that I would put up against any one's at anytime. but for some reason, no matter what I do for my teeth, no matter how many thousands of dollars I put into them, they just SUCK!

I think that while we're at it, I just have them lop this head off, sculpt a desirable face and make me a new one out of titanium or some other almost impossible to destroy alloy. Then I could have razor sharp shark teeth put in, so I could just walk into a field along any number of our Iowa roads and get my beef straight from the source with a simple biting. No need for all those middle men involved in rendering, distributing, cooking and serving my beef at a marked up cost. Of course, if I ever bite my tongue, that might prove disastrous. Maybe we'll go with dull-razor sharp teeth? But then I would also never have to worry about shaving anymore. And they could insert my eyes with x-ray and infrared capabilities, telescopic sighting, and maybe even a smart weapon technology that would allow me to aim any piece of my arsenal just by moving my eyes to the target. Now THAT would be cool! And of course, entertaining the family by installing a laser pointer in there to make the cat chase it around the floor and up the walls. That's always a good time for all who get to see it. Cats are psychotically driven to chase those things. And right now, the only thing my cat goes after with that sudden movement capability is a fly. He ate one yesterday after chasing it around the apartment for about 5 or 6 minutes yesterday.



Of course once I get that installed, I'm sure there'd be someone like Sarah or John Connors coming to destroy me since I would be too much like one of the terminator machines. But, at least I wouldn't have any teeth issues anymore, and life would be grand. And, I could just pull back my facial skin at Halloween to freak the kids out!

Anyways, hopefully within the next month to month and a half, this will be all done, and then I can just go in for 6 month cleanings/check-ups and not worry so much...except for that incessant scraping noise!

Mook's Allies Put Down Insurrection (AND DENNY'S!!!)

A couple posts ago you got to read about the trip my wife and I got to take together. What was not told was a bigger story that happened at the Mookified Compound while we were away.

For those of you who know the Colonel, you know he has a tendency to be mentally unstable, like any other cat. When creating a relationship with a cat, things don't always go smoothly. The overall situation is often precarious at best. By appointing him as my executive officer, thus giving him some real power in our world, I made the situation even worse.

It's kind of like professional sports. You feed the athlete's ego, you pay him, and he becomes a bitchy millionaire who feels entitled. Well, the same goes for the Colonel. Minus the millions of dollars. He just gets bitchy when things don't go his way. By us leaving him home alone, we robbed him of his opportunity to decide when he would let us pay attention to him. Rather than accepting his responsibilities of guarding the Mookified Compound, he chose to throw a temper tantrum. Or more accurately, he chose to throw his food all over the kitchen. And, unbeknownst to me, there was a head of lettuce left out. It was found on the floor, with holes having been punctured through the plastic bag it came in, quite easily comparable to Cat-Inflicted-Damage (CID) marks.

Luckily for the Colonel, we had our ally in our friend Machelle. She had taken the kids for the weekend so the wife and I could get away alone, and also cleaned up the mess before my wife came home and found it. The Colonel would have surely been skinned alive before being made to meet his demise. And that also made me a lucky one. I would've been put on clean-up and burial details. And then I would have had to go through the long drawn out process of vetting out my next executive officer to take his place. After all, I may be a high ranking official and the supremely powerful Grand Mookatollah, but I can't run this place by myself.

So yes, luckily I had a great ally on my side of things. The grand architects of the Anti-Mookist movement have yet to corrupt her. However....

They may be infecting the citizens within the walls of the Mookified Compound. My wife wears what I see as an official Commie Cap. The appearance is way too close to the type of hat seen worn by many a commie throughout history. Not the big fur Ruskie hats on Soviet guards, but those short billed caps that you'd see someone like Fidel Castro wear.
Like this, only hers is in black

After long reflection to see how my strong willed and independent wife could be wooed by the commies (as a small portion of the Anti-Mookists), I have come down to a couple conclusions. She did receive some college education, and we all know infiltrated Academia is with communist idolaters and their evil ways.

And then there are my hippy parents. As liberals, and grandparents to my kids, I'm sure they have learned to communicate with subliminal messaging techniques in an effort to bring down this great regime of freedom and opportunity which I have produced for all to enjoy. Also, my parents give the kids toys and snacks to corrupt them with their socialist bent while the boys are still too young to know better. Little do they realize that eventually the toys and snacks will end up being regular streams of socks and underwear for gifts. And then there is the fact that when given a choice between me and their mother, the little fruits of my loins choose her...EVERY time! It seems the game is afoot! I may have to move the family somewhere more isolated amongst the hatemongers of our country and away from the evil influences of the far reaching arms of communism. Where I can hide in the mountains where I have built a bunker for official use of the Mookified government, should widespread civil war break out amongst the populace.


Let's see, what else is there to report. Ah yes, the Denny's campaign. Pictures of me at a Denny's have shown themselves onto the Denny's Facebook page, prior to my finding the page and without my knowledge. So it appears I have some, even if accidental, allies in my campaign to be the official face of Denny's.

What I need to do, and I may need help, is writing up the proposal and getting proper face time and respect with Corporate Denny's. I need to convince them that I need a basic salary to cover my time away from home, a official Denny's Guy car to motor around the country touring Denny's restaurants, trying out different dishes every meal and in different regions of the country, giving them Internet advertising through a blog or some other forum. And I'll also need them to cover hotel/motel fare for when I'm a ways away from the Mookified Compound that I call home. I don't think a year of traveling about on their dime, eating their food and publicly shouting their praises (for a fair amount of money)is too much to ask of the great capitalist story that is Denny's Restaurants. So yes, spread the message, tell Denny's that they need to utilize me for such a campaign, and at a cost much lower than most television advertising campaigns go for!

Spring Report From the Colonel

From The Desk Of:

Col. Beauregard Sterling Lovell, Mookified Army, Feline Brigade, Commanding


Once again Spring has arrived, and it is time for my quarterly report. So lets get to it, I haven't much time for you people unless you plan on feeding me or letting me outside.

Health Report on the Colonel: Eating the same old dry cat food crap. No tasty live vittles for this guy. Recently underwent annual health inspection from just another lowly veterinarian. As a member of the Mookified Fighting Forces, this is taxpayer subsidized health care at its finest. You know, General Mook is always bragging about his state of the art James Medical Institution he co-founded. Sure they can make a simple one-time vaccine for cootie to help people out, but I still have to get a freaking distemper shot every year. State of the art my furry butt. The doctors say that while my Kitty-crack (that's catnip to you wise acres) addiction is under control, that I'm going to have to cut down on my cigar smoking. I'm not so sure how I feel about this. I may have to quit sneaking out and hanging with the Godfather when the General isn't paying attention. Besides that, the Godfather keeps brand name cereal around. Much better than this store brand crap the General's wife keeps buying. I think its sub par processed cereal material that has led me to a serious bout of cabin fever, and causing me to climb up every file cabinet, bookcase, or armoire available.

Economy: The economy, I am proud to say is in good condition. The fecal output is good, reeeaaall good. Air pollution reducers are being enacted for a better quality environment. And as a part of that economic benefit comes from using the recyclables I grab out of their container to help further bury the fecal material. Win-win proposition for me. Keep up my industriousness, while satisfying the "greenies" need to reduce flooding the atmosphere with my stuff.

Education: Happy to report all is well here, and I am learning absolutely nothing. I mean hey, whats the point of furthering one's education when you have people around to do a cat's (much less a fat cat Colonel) bidding?

Security: Here is one area that I, as the Colonel in this outfit, have found lacking. Since the receding glaciers have given way to more moderate temperatures, those dastardly birds have returned yet again. They are nesting above the Deck outpost. They are using sappers to take up posts on the deck itself. I fear it will only be days before the squirrels join them in harassing us further. The General has put an end to recon patrols outside the command post. Something about invading the area above our compound, or another stupid excuse for the man to keep me down.

I thought at first we were finally going to be proactive in our security measures. It appears that the one they call Buggy made a bird-feeding treat, and the General's wife hung it up out on the deck. Surely we were planning to lure the enemy in with a baited trap where I would be able to use my finely honed skills to eliminate them one by one. But I was ushered back inside. I plan on filing a formal complaint with the General later. I'm sure he'll find the time to lose it with all the bureaucratic paperwork he makes up to waste his time.

Clearly this is something that must be taken care of. Had the General's wife not put the kibosh on me getting my own executive officer, we would have this outfit in fine shape. However, given that I was denied my request, stewardship of the compound under General Mook has become rather lackluster.

In summary, we are at about 75-80% okay so far. However, should this security matter not be taken care of, all else may be in danger of collapsing. Please, send help, or the ASPCA or whoever is in charge of making sure I have a good home.

Thanksgiving Message From The Colonel

From the Desk Of Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell:


So today we all gather together and give thanks for all that is good in our lives. Well, most of us. The majority of those living in the Mookified Compound have set out, meanwhile I'm stuck here guarding the compound with the General. That stupid idiot put out self pity messages complaining about only getting to eat a turkey pot pie for the holiday. Meanwhile, I get dry cat food...just like every other damn day of the year. The General may well find himself the victim of my combatives training later on today after he heats that pot pie up, then I can enjoy some delicious turkey meat. I'll let him try the cat food and tehn he can realize just how thankful he can be.

Personally, I'd be more thankful if I was President Obama. He pardoned that turkey, Courage, so that he can live out his days in Disney World. If I were El Presidente, that turkey would be dead, and I'd be burping feathers right about now. Who has time for cooking the bird when you can take him down right away and enjoy a nice meal without the wait?

But overall I'm thankful for my home. Its nice and warm here. And unlike my previous assignment guarding a garage with all my brothers and sisters where its cold, I can lounge about all I want. And, after making the general escort me to my mess hall, I can eat. With a belly full of food, I can return to napping, or shred everything in this apartment. It's great, because the General gets all mad, and yet, can't do a damn thing about it. I'm grateful that his rank doesn't come with any real power over me. Hell, that punk used to be a major. Once I made Colonel, he promoted himself to General just to not be outranked by me. How sad is that. Yeah, way to go Mr Top of the Food Chain!

So today, as you all give thanks for your food and football games, and begrudging your family your time, I shall be staking out the deck, looking for some fresh flying food, and maybe a nice squirrel or two. Little bastards run rampant around here, but I'm gonna get them one of these days.

So, you be sure and thank me for serving my duties here and suffering through dry cat food, while you're all safe and secure this holiday. As a cat and a colonel both, I DESERVE your damn appreciation for all I do for you. My mere existence should please you to no end. But if any one of you sonsabitches tries to pet me...I'll kill you.

Enjoy your day.

Sincerely,
Colonel B.S. Lovell
Mookified Feline Division, Commanding

Random Observations of Localized Events

First off, Ninja Kitties. Might be an even bigger threat to us than headless chickens. Not sure, but President Obama has personally assured me that he will have a team of researchers look into this. Now I know what you're thinking. President Obama and I don't exactly mesh politically, so why would he have personal conversations with me? Well, there is one really good explanation for that. I am a really really important person. My self-importance was so overflowing that it seeped out into the real world. President Obama realizes this, and has determined, through the use of well placed mobile teleprompters that my input is actually valuable on a global level to the point of conducting useless threat assessments of unverifiable and illusory entities. Anyways, back to ninja kitties...

While on the job, I pulled around to the back of the parking lot at St Luke's, to scan my babysitter strip, which can verify that I actually went to this place instead of just saying I did. I pull up about 5 to 6 feet away from the light pole that the strip is on. As I open the door, a flat-faced, fat but mean looking kitty backs away from the pole itself by about 5 to 6 feet. It stares at me, just licking its chops repeatedly. I approach the pole to scan the strip and I look down and see a lifeless squirrel laying in a depression behind the pole. Neither the evil ninja kitty or the squirrel were there on my previous stop almost 2 hours prior. The ninja kitty gave me my room, but showed no signs of fear. He just stared me down, still licking away at his chops in some sort of OCD-like manner.

Now, being in full Rent-a-Cop battle rattle, I had no fear of this kitty, ninja or not. I turned away and walked the 5 or 6 feet back to my car. I closed the door, and I looked back towards the cat. But Ninja Kitty was GONE!! I walk back to the pole and the squirrel...ALSO GONE. This was by no means a small squirrel, He had been plenty healthy in the girth department, and quite long. I wouldn't call the squirrel fat, but he was definitely husky, maybe big boned. Removing him from sight with no sound or sign of removal is quite a task. Either Ninja Kitty is one helluva ninja, OR....there was an entire squad of ninja kitties waiting in the tree branches above and in the treeline at the edge of the lot. All I know, is I saw a squirrel, and then I didn't see a squirrel. Spooky stuff, those ninja kitties!

THE TALK READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED HERE for mature material and sexual undertones

So my wife has been busy all year bullying me. She wants me to give "the talk" to my 10 year old son. There are a few problems with this. A- My mom of all people attempted to give me the talk. I ignored it in favor of the current sitcom on TV at the moment. Gave her a few "yeah yeah"s and "I know"s. B- I don't have clue one how to give 'the talk', and C- its my son:

God love the boy, but he is definitely still in the "girls have cooties" stage, and he pretty much doesn't notice girls unless they are playing in the game of tag with him. And he definitely doesn't notice girls as anything other than "not boys". but either way, they are going to have the "health class" sometime this school year where they tell boys about the changes and stuff. The girls get their own. I personally back in my day, would have preferred to pay the admission to that show. It has to be clearly more interesting than speaking about my stuff in medical terms. Besides, I had already seen my own stuff. Not much interest in staring at it.

So, my wife takes the youngest to the grocery store and suggests that TODAY WILL BE THE DAY YOU TALK TO THE BOY!...I had very adeptly pushed this talk off since she learned the class was coming and didn't want the school to be the one to introduce him to the subject.

So the talk was pretty bland. "Look, you are gonna get hair in your armpits at some point," I tell him. I am informed he knows that already. Fantastic, one idea down. Tackle the easy stuff first, then move on to the more delicate stuff. "And your stuff," I continue, "You're gonna get hair down there too" His response is "EEEWWWWW". I comforted him in the knowledge that none of us are pleased with that development, but that in fairness, women get hair down there too. Again with the "EWWWW" followed by a bit of cackling. As with most things, it seems the idea of bad stuff happening to other people is funny. Even if it sucks when its you as the victim, you'll still laugh at other people's expenses. Just the way our hideous minds work. I informed him, that as a blond it may not be so bad for him as it is for say, me, a darker haired individual Then I informed him that his stuff would also get a bit bigger. Again with the cackling. Clearly this is still beyond his maturity in comprehension. Hell its well beyond MY maturity in delivering the information. we weren't going into the sex talk yet...thank god...I may have had a stroke and died if I had to go there with a 10 year old. But, I still had to go way further than I wanted to. I had to explain that he will be going through hormone changes...he will begin to get funny feelings about girls where he actually starts to like them. I was greeted with a confused look, another "EWW" and a bit of nervous cackling to boot. Well, I think to myself...at least he isn't asking technical in depth questions that will task my abilities here. I would honestly rather be caught in the middle of a gunfight than deal with this. Hell I'd rather explain the technical details of what's going on with a newly lobotomized-by-gunfire brain laying in the street next to us in the middle of said firefight. I proceeded to explain the developing nature that kids his age only know as "the pre-morning pee" phenomenon, and how it would happen randomly from time to time, and not just for peeing. I explained that this is normal, and not to worry about it. He laughs some more.

If I were being graded on my ability to give this lecture, I assure you, not only would I get an "F", but I would be permanently banned from applying for any instructional position again. WOOF! was I glad to get that over with. Anyone want to volunteer to take the BIG talk with the kid for me?

So, on a related note, Buggy, our youngest clearly gets crushes on the pretty women. I'm pretty sure his teacher falls in that category. So, somehow or another, the nature of the conversation gets focused onto the oldest one, you know, "giggle at hair on YOUR private parts, but disgusted by it on his own" boy. Somehow his mom asks him if he likes any girls in his class, or any other class or whatever. He continues to look down and deny things. Oh, we grilled him for the better part of 15minutes as he attempted to deflect the conversation away from him with the ever clever "What question?" when asked to answer a question. It has been determined as I mentioned above, that he barely recognizes a girl as anything other than "not a boy". It turns out, none of he and his other guy friends even talk about the local chicks in the school yard. these kids these days....they are either smarter than we were, or not as mature in the ways of adult life at that age as we were in my generation.

Hell, I had a girlfriend when I was in the 2nd grade. She didn't know it, but yeah, she was my girlfriend. I walked her home from school once in awhile since she was going my way. I of course had to deny liking her when the older boys come around. Don't want to let her think she's got me locked down. I was 8 and a happening dude, gotta keep my options open, ya know. When her family moved away, I was heartbroken. Probably the most devastated guy I knew. Even made me cry in front of my mom. That only made things worse. Heartbroken and humiliated. As a man, crying in front of women, mom or not, was just unacceptable. I'm sure I had to change into superhero underwear to console my manhood after that moment. Either way I survived. And of course, all us guys were talking smack about who we liked, and what we'd do with those girls. Yeah, we really were studs. Strip down to our unds, turn on the 70s porn music and watch a kid who had no idea what to even do if he got there, try to put the sexy moves on some chick.

When I was 6 I had the biggest crush on this lady named Marlee. She was a friend of my aunt and mom. Ran into her at some party or get together or something at my aunt's house while we were out in California. I found Marlee, and then I was just talking my head off, finding ways to impress this older woman. She didn't know it, but she was my girlfriend at that point. She had replaced the babysitter who lived at the end of the block, I had left back in Iowa for a couple weeks. Yeah, I was quite the little Casanova. So good at my game, that I could occupy her time all afternoon and keep her from the rest of the adults...she was enamored with me, I know it, but in the end, I had to tell her t let me go. I had to go back to Iowa and elementary school and stuff. It was definitely better for her that we end it there, and let her find a man 'more deserving' than me. Yeah, I know, who is more deserving than me, but I know how to let a chick down gently. You have to, their gentle hearted creatures, and you never know what kind of psychological things might go on in their head if you mess them up too bad!

Then there was Junior high. I was informing my son, who didn't like any girls in his grade, (after asking him if he liked the 6th graders instead) informing him that its okay to go after the older chicks. Mentioned how I had a junior high English teacher, Ms. Forbes. She was beautiful, and I almost mentioned a highly touted and admired portion of her female anatomy, before I cut myself off realizing I was still talking to my 10 yr old son. My wife was just about ready to cold cock me to keep me from continuing on down the path of THAT story. But yeah, ALL the guys thought she was the hottest teacher we'd ever met. And of course, more stories about how we'd do things to her, and she'd be all flattered by us. Yeah, we were clearly trying to bat way out of our league. Not that it mattered. She was an old fashioned teacher. You know, one that doesn't go around sleeping with her students, like all these young ones do today that keep showing up in the news and on courtroom dockets across the country. Damn shame too. I would've wooed her with perfect grammar, and then well...you know, be a stud and all that stuff....just as soon as I found my superhero underwear.

But yeah, back to the conversation at the table with the boy. I tried all kinds of ways to trip him up in his own words. Now I have broken this boy before, and made him admit to his lying ways. He hates being grilled. I even told him about how we 'tortured' Noriega in Panama before him surrendering to U.S. forces, and how I could adapt that here until he gave up the girl's name that he likes. But he held strong. One of two things is going on here. He is either learning how to use the force properly and withstand my interrogations (not likely) or he really has a bona fide non-interest in the women folk at this point. And as far as I'm concerned, as his dad, I'm okay with that. Let the boy wait longer than I did, and I'll be happy.

Colonel Plans a Coup!

From the Desk of the Enlightened and Immortal General Mook, Supreme Commander of All He Surveys:

It's a new official title. Those who fear their own death through conspiracy often act irrationally. However, since it is me talking, my irrationality becomes rational. Most leaders who fear their being overthrown will act in one of two ways. They will either enhance their powers and eliminate threats through executive orders (up to an including the assassination of key figures), or they will recess into their own world of denial and reclusiveness. I however, being unique (the world is thankful for this) and special (think propeller beanie special) have chosen neither route. I have decided to document the conspiracy in case of an untimely demise, and of course use the occasion to bolster my already unnecessarily large ego. For yes, if I am to be the victim of a whacking, it only signifies just how important I must be.

Thus far, the Colonel has been somewhat passive in his undermining my authority. Forced marches to the food dish, sticking a claw into my lip to wake me up so that I let him out of the bedroom, and occasional attack training with my hands and arms. his "training exercises" have become much more frequent as of late. I'm sure he'll pounce any day now, once he feels he knows all my moves.

Lately however, he has become a bit more irritating. Standing watch from the east observation post (kids' bedroom window), everytime I come home from working out I sense he is taking notes on my activities. Not to be a better executive officer, but merely to gauge how it will all go down in the end. Whenever I come home from work, and just before I leave for work, he is exceptionally squirrelly. He runs back and forth erratically, with a mixture of some sort of low growl, yowl and meowing. It's a rather unnerving sound.

He has also engaged in random, but more frequent, intimate behavior. He will climb onto my lap as I sit here at the computer, and multiple times while I sprawl on the couch watching a game or a movie. He maneuvers his head in a way to encourage more petting. And sometimes now, he has even taken to laying on my bed with me. He seems to be irritated should I make any movement that might disturb his very particular feline decision on how to lay about.

Other times, I awake to see him on my dresser in front of the window. Not looking out the window, but staring me down. As if to say to my barely awake eyes, "I could've killed you in your sleep, but that would be too easy."

The Colonel uses my boots as a place to rub his face against from time to time. I suspect at some point he will just sidle up to them and pee in them just prior to me leaving for work.

Someone once said, "Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer."

I suspect the Colonel has taken this to heart and is attempting to buddy up to me, in hopes that I let my guard down. I'm not falling for it. Not even for a minute. But I won't let on that I know what he's up to.

The Colonel may be under some sort of Feline Derangement Syndrome if he even thinks he'll have my seat of power around here. He may have my wife fooled, but sooner or later, once she realizes that the cat really is going to try to kill me she will be an ally of mine that he won't want to reckon with. He can take my skin, but he ain't getting my girl. He may attempt to counter an attack against her flank, but that isn't the wisest move in the world. She'll boot his fat cat butt to the moon in a heartbeat.

I'm sure he'll try to be slicker than that though. He's currently posted up looking out over the deck. A terrrorist squirrel is flaunting his mobility outside, which only taunts the Colonel into a foul mood. I'm fine with this of course. Whenever he is in one of those moods, he can't concentrate on his plans for me.

Which is all the better. No need to enable his portraying Brutus to my Julius Caesar! "Et tu, Kittykat?"

Update From The Colonel- July2009

Early on 03July2009, General Mook and his support staff (aka "the family") left the Mookified Compound for a period of nearly two weeks. I suspect it was political in nature, as the General is secretly petrified of dealing with the hard issues. As the only senior officer left, I was charged with providing security for the entire compound. With only periodic and minimal resupply from Captain Stew's Mobile Support Platoon during this time, my training would be put to the test. Lacking the General's presence, surely the enemy would come full charge.

Daytime incursions proved few and far between, allowing for some rest between combat patrols and operations. Nighttime however was a different story altogether. Unmanned aerial drones (the military jingo for "flies") had strafed and reconnoitered the compound on multiple occasions, keeping my forces unnerved and on edge. Rules of engagement were strict in that we were not allowed to counter anything other than direct attacks. The night of the "friendly fire incident" occurring was only an inevitable matter of time.

An unidentified personnel entered The Compound without prior notfication coming into our comm station. As he breached the perimeter, in the dark I only made out the silhouette of an intruder. I was the only one on guard duty at the time as our current threat level was listed as low. I had made the approach to the breach point too quickly, and the intruder stumbled over me, injuring my front paw. Not thinking of the Purple Heart that I would be rewarded, my true valor and combat soldier instincts came to the surface. With my cat-like reflexes, I used a jiu-jitsu leg sweep to take down our invader. My standard weapons not on hand I was forced to resort to hand to hand combat. I quickly pounced on my enemy assailant, climbing my way up the length of his body to finish him off. I began to apply the judo ear bite, but before I cinched in the finishing death blow, my good paw felt a slight difference in his ear. Recognizing this telltale sign of identification, I released the intruder.

Captain Stew, like most rear echelon brass, thought he was doing me a favor by showing up unnanounced with intentions of fresh chow. I had to explain to him (also read: chew his ass) the reason for protocol deeming forwarding communication prior to arrival. He was visibly shaken from his brush with certain death at my hands, but a good dressing down was definitely in order. Next time he'll know that he better arrive AFTER letting me know, or he may not be so lucky...

A New Update From The Colonel

As you can see, I have learned how to take pictures of myself without the bothersome shot showing my arm extended. Also you might want to take notice that I can do all this and more with the use of opposable thumbs, you inferior humanoid ingrates.

I have taken a short bit of time out of my fairly busy day (I am VERY important and all, you know) to update you on how things are progressing in this so-called "Mookified" household.

The Napping economy has suffered slightly as result of increased Random Pscyhotic Moments production. I have personally managed to enlarge the holes in the screen of the young children's bedroom window. I mean really, I have great eyesight (fully equipped with inborn nightvision capabilities), but with so much wire criss-crossing, the view is ruined. And in step with my natural occasional moments of compassion for the people who live here, I thought, "Hey, why not improve their ability to look outside?" So, I did. General Mookie recently replaced the screen door on the slider out to "The Deck". Obviously he is very stupid with his naming privileges. This is clearly a forward observation point and launch post to combat aerial recon missions being flown in by those dastardly birds. It is also where I launch my own recon missions of the upstairs tenets in this compound. They have one sweet mama of a kitty! YOWZA
Currently, I am trying to figure a way to infiltrate this new defense screen, so that my prior activities may again run on schedule unencumbered. I keep getting chased away by the General. One of these days, he and I are going to have a little hand to hand training, and he's going to suffer an accident if you know what I mean.

Nutrient Rich imports are flowing steadily. I am currently in a race with the 10-yr old to see who can deplete the food supply, and the General's money consequently, the fastest. I am still in the recycling business as well, doing my best soldierly duty of maintaining a Green household. I have chewed up the last three days newspapers, so far managing to digest at least 1 1/2 days worth, along with a few random pieces of cardboard. I prefer corrugated over that cereal box business.

Which leads us to our main industrial output sector: Fecal Production. I am pleased to say that we are up 28% over the projections for this month, and 34% over last month, SO FAR (with 17 days left...I'm really excited about this). Must be all that fiber intake fuel used to run this smooth operation. We would put forth press photos, however, due to national security reasons, my advisors have chosen to keep them classified for the time being. My office realizes this only fuels the speculation among conspiracy theorists that there may be a second pooper behind the fuzzy blanket, but rest assured, this is a singular effort.

We will not be taking questions right now, as I have a busy schedule ahead of me today. Lots of napping, kid terrorizing, eating, oh and napping, that needs to be attended to. Thank you, that will be all.

With Regards,
Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell
Feline War Division, Commanding

Okay, So I've Not Blogged In Awhile

Sue me! It's the American Way, afterall! No seriously, though....

So yah, it's been awhile since I've blogged. A few people have wondered where I've been, if I died, been sick, or what?
Well, to answer these...I've been here, no, no, and who knows.

As I told Godfather here not that long ago, my motivation has been somewhat lacking. I hadn't found anything inspiring or entertaining to write about as of late. And while I've kept up reading everyone's blog, I've contented myself to sit back and watch other reader's commentary than provide much of my own. Maybe it's this wintertime crap. Subzero temperatures, even lower windchill variants, too much snow and ice, lots of cloudy days, and many of them I've been stuck working. I guess my creative mind has shut down a bit for a little hibernation of its own, as well as trying to squeeze in a little extra sleep (my coworkers and alarm companies havent been very cooperative in giving me my naps during worktime).

And I also suffer from some serious pseudo-medical maladies. The first and foremost is known as Laziness. I think about doing some things...but my body refuses to cooperate. Another thing that has taken its toll on me is called Old-Age. Now, some of you are probably reading this with incredulity, knowing I wont even be 30 years old until April. Well let me tell you...when you treat your body like I do...crap diet, little physical activity, smoking, little sleep.....you age yourself a lot quicker than just the time spent doing it. So while I may only be just shy of 30, I sometimes feel like I'm closer to getting my full-fledged AARP membership benefits.

This weekend didnt help any at all. Apparently my diet and eating habits in general decided to send me a message. While I wasn't sick, my infrastructure had some issues resulting in a LOT of pain. The last time I felt that kind of pain was a little over 9 years ago. And back then, I went to the doctor to spend hundreds of dollars to find out I could've fixed myself without their expertise. So this time, while I was in such excruciating pain, sleep was a luxury to achieve, I decided to be my own diagnosing doctor....and then made my wife take care of me a bit...or rather she took pity on me, and to keep me from being a useless and maximum pain in the ass, she made me do things I didnt care for to make sure I was going to return back to normal...in other words, my usual level of a pain in the ass, but somewhat useful on occasion. While the worst has passed, and (not to get into too much detail)I have retained the services of the Raisin Bran Regulatory Commission, I am still a bit of a flip flopper in my gut.

Getting old sucks.....to think that I probably have to use a fiber supplement to make sure I dont get into a position where I'd rather kill myself than put up with the temporary pain, pains me deeply. I pride myself on having a near perfect immune system, and while slightly more gelatinous than solidly muscular, having an optimum physique (slightly round so as to remain structurally intact in the event of a powerful midwestern earthquake), and a (mostly) sound mind. Admitting any sense of weakness, or need for help, is hard for me to do. But I suppose, in order to overcome the gradual aging process, I will have to first defeat the Lazy Disorder. Maybe I'll make that a New Year's Resolution in 2010! But so as not to be hasty in our decisions, we'll re-evaluate that as the time nears. WE may have to shop around for a consultant to do a few studies over the next few years to find the proper response to this all.

And as that which also comes with the aging male, the mini-midlife crisis has hit my mentality. Years ago, as a child, I saw myself pretty much ruling the world. Now before you get any ideas, I do rule a good portion of it....no mob hits happen to this day without my approval (of course, my approval comes after consulting with the Godfather....I don't need to get whacked yet, I'm not so stupid as to cut him out of the loop of credit here). Where was I? Oh yeah..midlife crisis..blah blah blah....mob hits, yada yada yada...So, here I am, not quite ruling the world as I had envisioned in my early years. And unlike my early years, I also have no dog. I have my cat, and the Colonel is great, but I grew up with BIG dogs, and like the idea of a dog. But, our landlords don't allow dogs. The few in the area that allow dogs, are either too expensive for my taste (if I'm gonna pay out the big dough, I'd beter own the damn place), or have restrictions on the size of dog....and I'm not a lover of small dogs. They're fine for other people to own, but not for me. So I started looking at the local area housing market. With the so-called "housing bubble", you'd think a house might be affordable for someone who makes less than $100,000 a year. Apparently the only thing the housing bubble caused was foreclosures, some bankruptcies, and some financial issues. But the housing prices overall have remained the same. Multiple houses are still being offered at multiple hundreds of thousands of dollars. Crap house still are close to $100k. Anything less will require massive cash amounts to fix up to code. It's a strange idea that noone can buy houses, and yet no concessions on prices are made to actually help these houses mvoe through the market to keep the system going. So anyways, I set a limit on houses I would consider, and even found a few decent looking ones (that even included ALL the appliances! Imagine, laundry getting done without having to procure rolls upon rolls of quarters!) nearby that would be big enough. Afterall this apartment is quite expensive for being a small space in a property that is poorly constructed and maintained, especially for a family of four, and the eventuality of a 3rd child. but the mortgage payments for anything decent....well let's just say, I'd need to work twice as much to make it feasible. I'm not looking for the 10,000 sq foot mansions in the elite neighborhoods...I'm talking simple $150,000 split levels, two sotry, and ranch style homes. Neverminding any of the utilities, and property taxes, plus costs for any repairs needed...the monthly payments are WAY above what I'm paying for this craphole of an apartment. And Apparently I was raised with some common sense and looked into the creative financing options, like those gambles of interest only loans....yuck. So for now, until we create a bigger cashflow stream, I guess we'll have to settle for what we have. But I still REALLY want a dog.....(hey, at least I'm not the guy with the midlife crisis who boes out and buys a corvette, a speedboat, takes up skiing and motorcycling, leaves his wife for a girl half his age [wow..a teenage girl...yuck}) I just want space for all of us and our stuff (mostly books and pictures)....and a dog!

An Update From The Colonel

From The Desk Of:

Col. Beauregard Sterling Lovell, Mookified Army, Feline Brigade, Commanding

Well, it has been awhile since we last updated all you humans on the state of affairs within the feline world. We have, as most of you know, completely and totally eradicated the terrorist fleas in our protracted War On Pests ('07-'08)

With the weather getting colder by the minute, our other small enemy forces have died off. Besides that, catching flies and eating them became a rather dull activity to pass the time.

Christmas is coming up and the General's wife put up the annual Christmas tree, complete with their stupid decorations. I like to call this thing, The Curiosity That Almost Killed The Cat. I have successfully attacked candy canes and random artificial tree branches, and managed to escape prior to a swift death blow from the wife.

Fecal matter manufacturing production rates have gone down for unknown reasons. We have engaged ourselves in a fiber intake exercise by eating cardboard boxes, random pieces of paper, and other such items in order to keep the General from getting into a slower relaxed routine when it comes to cleaning my catbox out. Recently, the General's youngest son, Private Bug The Terrible had out a Santa Clause Coloring Book. I ate part of it, right along the spine, essentially dissembling the books structural integrity. Served the little punk right. He's always harassing me anyways.

After many instances of psychosis from the child factors running rampantly about the place, I have taken to luring the general and his wife into a false sense of security. I cuddle up on their lap and act all loving with them. This lets down their guard for when I choose to sneak attack them and bite their toes, or attack loose pieces of their clothing. It really is entertaining. And since they wont let me outside to wage preemptive war against other undesirables such as the rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks and birds, this is really my only option.

They have banned me from my practice of patrolling the perimeter of the upstairs neighbors' deck, and running rampantly through the hallways awaiting some poor unsuspecting child to let me sneak out the door when they come in. It really is a shame, and they will pay for this eventually. I do know where they sleep, afterall.

I have learned how to manipulate the General as it is, for my own amusement. It seems one of his previous cats used to make him escort the cat to the food dish and pet him in order to coax eating. I could eat on my own, but it sure is funny making the General cater to my wants, and walk me to an obviously full food dish. It really irritates him, which pleases me of course.

Nothing else to report at this time.

Sincerely,

Col. B.S. Lovell

"War Over!" Colonel B.S. Lovell Proclaims

A MESSAGE FROM OUR COLONEL
This past weekend, our forces responded to the recent inflammation of insurgent terrorist pests. Our initial offensive failed the week before. This time, we responded with absolute reckless abandon, exercising our "nuclear option" wreaking havoc throughout the entire Mookist domain.

Subjecting terrorists to a soapy waterboarding session proved to be the initial step towards eradicating the pestilent forces. I, Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell, under the guidance of General Mookie, subjected myself to this treatment. High stress levels, and loss of much hair resulted from the chemical bath. However, this was necessary in our fight to maintain our freedom from filthy bugs. We had to send a message that no measure is too costly; that we would not be deterred by weakness of any sort. After an evacuation from the interior Mookist headquarters, I nearly suffered hypothermia, but rest assured, I have recovered fully. Hair loss is still there, but has reduced itself to almost pre-treatment levels of natural shedding.
While in recovery, The General, and my other pet humans he calls the family, took out the laundry for a four hour species-cleansing event, while unleashing 3 fully powered flea bombs designed to fully eradicate the Mookist territory of all pests. With a total combined "saturation capability" of 15,000 cubic feet, the 5680 cubic feet zone of occupation was more than fully affected with our state of the art weaponry.

Upon arrival from the laundry zone, General Mookie oversaw a sweep and destroy mission to completely flush out any possible hidden surviving terrorists, culminating in the balcony drop of the tv/sleep facilitating "big brown couch". As luxurious as this piece of furniture was, it was identified as a possible stronghold for more terrorist cells to flourish. The General's wife demanded its removal from the Mookified State, and thusly, it met a nice 12 foot freefall to death, and eventually to the dumpster. More spraying, more vaccuuming, blah blah blah....the threat assessment has been dropped from full alert to normal peacetime levels.

Outfitted with my Collar of Valor, I have volunteered to be reimmersed within the week to ensure the end of surviving cells once and for all.
And to you, fellow felines, and your lesser human counterparts, it is with great pride that I, Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell announce that by staying the course, we have achieved victory. We will try to schedule a victory parade sometime int he near future. For those unable to attend, we will try to attain Jay Burns video making services to put it on YouTube for you all to see. Thank you again for your patience and support throughout this conflict. It truly made the difference knowing that you all shared our desire for liberty and freedom.

Feline War On Pests Continues

From the Desk of the Colonel
From: Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell

Fellow Felines And Our Pet Humans:

I come today with grave news. After taking a policy of containment in our War on Pests, things have once again taken a turn for the worse. We have already waged a great offensive over the last year, having eliminated the majority of the enemy flea insurgents, we felt confident in the containment of other likely terrorist entities.

Unfortunately, last week saw a resurgence of this terrorist group. Intelligence has concluded that radical teachings of the "reproduction against repression" variety have been taught to young underlings who found themselves subservient to the messages of the terrorist flea masters, hidden deep within hidden realms of the Feline Territory. With mass proliferation of these insurgents to all sectors, Mookist Brigades were taken by surprise while out on holiday leave. No casualties were reported on our side, but all leaves have been cancelled, and battlestations manned on full alert until further notice.

On Wednesday 23JUN2008 at 2130HRS, I, Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell, have submitted myself to alternate self-waterboarding, complete with full submersion and chemical bathing. While harsh on my system and psyche, I have committed myself to this harsh anti-terrorist tactic in an effort to flush out the extreme radical leadership. A second mission has been tentatively scheduled for a time TBA this upcoming weekend. We will also be looking to follow up with a Hartz UltraGuard Collar system with organophosphates (an anti-scouting internalized bio-weapons agent), along with potential use of high tech Advantage chemical weapons ordinances.

We know you all are looking to my leadership and the efforts of my army, to see if reinstituionalized tactics will be successful in quickly subduing terrorist activities entirely. We promise, upon success of our mission, we will quickly disseminate our plans for anti-insurgency throughout the feline world, to rapidly deploy forces and eradicate our world of the evil which infests our everyday lives.

Please keep us in your prayers, as we take the fight to the enemy. Upon success, our forces will be drawn down to the most minimal numbers, as we are a peaceful species, content in our lives of luxury supported by our pet humans in peace and tranquility.

A Little Friday Fun With VERY Localized News

Terrorist Flight Taken Down Over Domestic Shores


This report just in, and will probably never be aired or printed by the mainstream media.

Recent flights over sovereign territory by terrorists have escalated as of late. To date no terrorist has been found to have conducted further acts of terrorism, other than the blatant harrasment of our border defenses coupled into aerial intel probes.

Today we can proudly say that our military arm reacted to a clear and present terrorist threat within our airspace, and downed the enemy with precise targeting measures that eliminated the possibility of any collateral damage.

A source within the administration speaking on condition of anonymity, as he was not cleared to make public comment, confirmed the altercation, the military's response, and subsequent recovery of the now deceased terrorists body.

Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell, Supreme Commander of the Mookified Armed Services was personally responsible for overseeing the operation and was credited with singlepawedly eliminating the threat.

At approximately 0945HRS, An enemy Wren was spotted making incursions back and forth over the coastal base known simply as "The Deck", making touch and go landings on the "cooling zone", which is known to most civilians as a wall mounted AC unit. Also known as a localized seasonal global warming combatant, this unit was feared to be endangered by terrorists.

The low flying Wren fighting bird, who had previously made deliberate passes at the Colonel's head, once again harassed Colonel Lovell. This time with much different results than previous incidents. With fine bones, stealth like movements and cat-like reflexes (pun intended), the Colonel leapt to action, bringing the enemy bird down, and quickly killed the terrorist. Reports are that the body was personally delivered to the kitchen of General and President Mike "Mookie" Lovell. It was quickly dismissed as a poor specimen for lunch and discarded in the way that the administration deals with the deceased enemy combatants: Unrespectfully dumped off the shores of the Democratic Republic of Mike Lovell.

No further comments could be obtained, and the Administration has yet to issue a direct official statement.