Congratulations Abound!!

In spectacular fashion, The Mookist Regime has proven itself victorious yet again. After attempting a peaceful resolution with entities wishing to encroach upon the sovereignty and air space of the Mookified Compound failed, we were left with no choice but to respond militarily.

The Feline Brigade, led by the brilliant Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell, responded successfully to a dual threat posed by both a squirrel infantry faction and an aerial attack by birds.


Having been nicer weather, General Mook had decided to allow freedom of movement between the interior compound and the area known as The Deck. The first assault came at 0930 hours this morning with a squirrel sapper attack, harassing the Colonel's good sensibilities. The Colonel swiftly moved into action from a distance of 6 feet within the compound towards the squirrel, who immediately shifted gears to get away. A bird attempted to strafe the Colonel as he entered the Deck area. In a blindingly fast moment, the Colonel took to the air, knocking the aerial intruder out of the airspace. There was a moment of confusion as the Colonel left the marked boundaries of the Mookified Compound, as he took the enemy over the railing of the deck out into the Occupied Territory that most people know as "The Yard." An amazing leap, and a death defying drop to the lower level. It was an intense moment, but quickly we saw that The Colonel had not only taken the enemy out of our airspace, but out of his ill-willed existence.

Even at the risk of life and paw, The Colonel showed the military might of the Mookified Regime, and the effectiveness of its training regimen to turn out super soldiers. A hero's welcome followed, including some kitty treats for The Colonel, as they are his favorite. After a brief medical checkup, the Colonel was found to be in good health despite the non-parachute assisted jump. Squirrels run off, Bird flying has retreated to a safe distance that no longer threatens the Mookified Compound. April 7th has already been officially declared a holiday within the Mookified Compound and shall be henceforth celebrated heartily, with milk flowing and kitty treats being downed in amounts to surely lead to long catnaps everywhere!

10 Years Later....

Really Beautiful Wife, Or 12th Russian Spy Confirmed

Ten years ago today was the day my status went up in this world. I married my wife, which infinitely improved my life. On a facebook post I made earlier today to the same effect, she commented that it was the second semi-public sweet thing I've done/said within the last week. To be honest I'm not sure I remember what the first one was, but I wasn't about to ask her right then. She'll read this and then inform me of whatever it was, maybe. In the same breath/typing she wondered if I had been dropped on my head or something recently. I've informed her that she has the rest of her life to be confused about when I've fallen on my cranium and when I'm just being her usual suspect.

While she was preparing for work, our youngest was messing with her hat on the couch. The same hat on her head in this picture, and the same hat I blogged about previously in which I have identified it as her "commie hat". She told me to quit calling it that, when I identified it as such to Corwyn. I stated as matter-of-factly as usual that I call it that because that's what it is. I mean c'mon! Look at it! Standard Communist Revolutionary Headgear! I've seen footage from Cuba, and other central and South American communist revolutionary periods in which this very kind of hat was quite prominently worn by those who felt oppression of the masses, in the name of the masses was far better than a more possibly freedom-inducing environment. I also mentioned that I may have found an undiscovered 12th member of the Russian spy ring, recently uncovered by the FBI.

Her Response? "Why do you say that? Am I THAT hot?" Now to the untrained eye, this merely seems like a woman baiting a guy for a compliment. But for a professional Rent-A-Cop like myself, this was a veiled confession. I responded with some random psychobabble to avoid her catching on that I knew about her secret identity. And then I took this picture. She asked why. I said I might need it for a blog. She was rightly suspicious of me and my blogging intentions. However, she had to go to work, and didn't have time to delete the picture hastily, in order to keep from having her cover blown. Well, it's too late, and right here, in front of the world (or at least my 8 or 9 readers), I am shedding the light on more undercover spy agents in our midst! The media made light of the attractiveness of one of the Russian spies, but my wife is likely to make that one look like a big pile of dog mess in comparison.

I find myself confused at this moment. I am feeling inordinately patriotic having uncovered this plot against not only my country, but the Mookified compound itself. At the same time, I don't know how I missed it. She has no accent and speaks absolutely zero Russian as far as I can tell. She clearly was deep undercover. She convinced her mother that she came from her, and has blended in with family very nicely. Almost as if, she had been one of them since birth. Brainwashing must have occurred at a highly secret Soviet-era facility to unknowingly bring her whole family into the fold. Then in a move that could only be conjured up by remnants of the KGB, she infiltrated my life, made me fall in love with her, marry her and have two sons with her. She speaks as though down home conservative hate mongering is her native language, yet she pretends to detest talk radio.

However, her espionatic (I'm pretty sure I made that word up, but please feel free to use it openly and spread it around) ways were not enough to keep her subconscious need for comrade wear buried away forever. And she doesn't mind vodka on occasion. Maybe that was the giveaway. In my America-loving opinion, only hard core alcoholics (which my wife is not) and commies (I'm beginning to question things here)can really and truly enjoy a nasty concoction made from potatoes such as Vodka! BLECH!

Now I have read reports that the other 11 haven't been charged or suspected of any real espionage. However, the possible finding of the 12th Commie (not to be confused with the 12th Imam), squarely embedded within the Mookist Compound? Clearly the idea that high-level espionage has been occurring has to be considered. After all, with all the wealth of knowledge and power that resides with the Mook and his trusty sidekick, Colonel B.S. Lovell, mining the information that lies within these walls and turning it over to Russia could be detrimental not only to the General and his people, but to the world at large! You think the worldwide economic meltdown was horrendous, or the BP gulf oil spill insanely dangerous? Just wait and see what happens if my wife gets away with this.

I just remembered something vitally important. She'll read this before coming home. By the time you read this I may be dead, from her dispatching a secret assassination squad, or be transported to a secret gulag somewhere in the remote regions of Siberia. Not only then will Russia keep her secret safe, but the anti-Mookist forces out there will gain an even stronger foothold, which is equally bad, if not worse.

Of course, despite all that, I'll still technically be able to lay claim to having a really hot wife!

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!

I Am The Last Stand

"If we lose freedom here, there is no place to escape to. This is the last stand on Earth." --Ronald Reagan

Okay, full disclosure here, I am not talking political and economical ideologies here. What I am talking about is the freedom to avoid people and the encroachment upon my life made by advancing technology in the communication industry.

Everyone around me has a cell phone these days. I remember when I first saw cell phones. One kid, Tim, had a bag phone for his car, which we all rode in to go to work. Cell phones those days looked more like the kind of phone the Army used to call in air strikes. Today they come in all manners of shape and size. They also have more functions than ever. You can talk, take photos, video, or you can text people. With the standard phone buttons or a fold out complete keyboard. You can type out your texts with individual characters or use the T9 technology that will predict your words and help you get through a message even faster. That is unless you're me, I am hopelessly useless with the T9 functions when I borrowed my wife's cell phone once to go to a niece's 6th grade basketball tourney. And the only reason I borrowed it was so that I could check in that I made it there, and for when I was coming back, depending on how the tourney went.

I am constantly asked to text someone, or just give them a call when I get to where ever it is we are hanging out, or when I get to their house to let them know I'm there to pick them up. I have to inform them that sorry, I don't have a cell phone!

I get some pretty weird looks. They are incredulous that I don't own the new iPhone or Blackberry cell phones. They ask how I can possibly live without a cell phone. I tell them essentially to quit projecting their way of life onto me. I was born before cell phones, I never had one attached to me surgically once they did come out, and I will probably most likely NEVER own one. I can live without one, because I lived half my life without them even existing. I put a caveat on that never, because I'm sure at some point someone will get it in their head to ban landlines altogether through government pressure. In which case I suppose I will then own a cell phone. However, I can guarantee that if this happens, my cellphone will stay in the same spot my current home phone's base is located.

I carry a cell phone for work. It is part of the equipment that goes with my little rentacop route. I pass it on to the guy who relieves me, who passes it on to the next guy, who will pass it back to me when I come back on duty. Other than that, I am generally at home. I have a home phone to be reached by, so I have no need for a cell phone. If I am not at work or at home, chances are likely that I am doing something I enjoy, and wish not to be contacted by anyone that isn't physically present with me. Some people just can't understand this. People I hang out with will keep checking their phone in the midst of conversations for new texts, missed calls, etc. Now I don't mind that they do this. After all, ask my wife, I'm not the best conversationalist in the world, so its not like I feel slighted that they are not interested in an already not-so-deep conversation to begin with. Writing is my better form of communication. Although with some people I may have to learn how to write in a texting form of language in order to hold their attention long enough for them to get the point I may be trying to make. But at the same time they have become slaves to this technology, and that I abhor. The whole point of the things were to be a tool of convenience, not a ruler of your life. You use the phone to dictate and communicate. Instead, it seems the phone and other gadgets now dictate their lives for them. Even by their own admission to be feel the need to be left alone, or that they are addicted, cellphone users just can't shut the thing off or leave it at home. They even have SCIENTIFIC STUDIES that show the addictive capabilities of these devices. And the people wonder why they can't get a private moment in their lives without worry that so-and-so is going to call or text them at any moment.

Now I know you're probably wondering what the hell my point is with all this rambling. Well it is this. I TRULY am the last stand when it comes to not having a cellphone to interfere with my life. Especially in my family. My sister has one, her hubby does too. My wife and all her siblings and parents have cell phones. The only reason my kids don't have cell phones is that I'm not paying for them, and they aren't old enough to have a job to support their own cell phone ownership.

Then there is me without a cell phone, along with my parents. But that all ended this last weekend. I received a call from my mom, who informed me that she had accompanied the Evil Duane (of the Branch Duanians of Sac City) downtown and bought themselves a phone for each of them, ad to give me their new cell numbers. I thought I had allies in my anti-technology fight. Yes I realize I'm saying I'm anti-technology while maintaining a blog site on a computer, an old Myspace account, and a Facebook page. The latter two things I once said I'd never do, and I broke down and added myself to the millions of mind numbing activities provided by a social networking site. In my defense, this was the only way to keep track of some friends. A cell phone is still not necessary to this mission, and if they provide me with an ultimatum that they will only communicate by texting from here on out, then I shall issue them my resignation from the relationship on a grounds of irreconcilable differences of conditional relationship status.

Things may not be going commie around here, but I see everyone throwing their hat in the ring in order to get the newest gadget, make themselves more trackable and susceptible to identity theft and surveillance by those who fly the silent black helicopters. Don't deny the conspiracy, we all know they do it. Ultimately its all part of a much larger conspiracy to use the world's population to get to me. Luckily I am hiding out in my super-ultra-secret underground bunker located at...oh wait, never mind. No one can find me here. The Mookified State is in full control.

My parents getting cell phones only reinforces my position that I was key to the strength of the Branch Duanian organization. However, having branched out on my own and running the Mookified Compound along with my trusty executive officer, Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell, the power and ultimate autonomy of the Branch Duanians faded, leaving me as the last stand. The Rebel Alliance is no more, as it is just I now, and no others to help in the fight against all that is evil, such as Big Cell Phone, and other technology demons like Apple!

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.