So back in like the sixteen hundreds, back when the world was still floating around in a vast pot of primordial chicken noodle soup, there was this big important guy who was named after my brother John Locke. He thought up this thing called contracted socialism (Lily-edit: social contract theory) where the idea was that the people of a place gave up powers to a government for protection and self-preservation and that when the government fails to do what it's supposed to, the people can revoke the rights of those powers to the government.
When Lily took me in, she gave up powers to the government of me for protection and self-preservation. This means it is my job to find out who hijacked Cocoa's Blogger account and put the hurt down on them, not only as practice for when the world realizes the power of my intellect and appoints me unquestioned ruler but because when the staff (Lily) gets upset, things don't run as smoothly. And I'm all about smooth. Just look at my fur.
When I find you, hijacker, I promise I will sit on you until you tell me the truth and nothing but the truth! Okay, I won't sit on you. My heavy brothers will, but still! And you will not be faced with Locke's socially contracted theory, but with the modern-day interpretations of Marx's views - a.k.a. communistic control courtesy Li'l Bus! Remember, at one point I was a mean street cat and I can put the hurt down when I want to!
Lastly, just a word about coming in from the cold: I still remember and do not appreciate the little bottle of special-formula cat milk you tried to feed me when I wouldn't eat that first day. Everyone loved it but me, you say? It was only D'Artagnan, Locket, and me that drank it. Locky didn't want to upset you because he was afraid you'd banish him into the cold and D'Artagnan was willing to give up all socially contracted powers to you the moment you wrapped his cold body in that dryer-warm towel. Thank goodness D'Ar bit the rubber part off and swallowed it when you were trying to feed him so you could make a big mondo fuss over him and not make a second rotation over to me.
-Buster Theodora
(To put all rumors to rest, I am a girlcat. My bean stupidly thought I was a boycat when I was outside and named me Buster but when I got inside the name had already stuck, so she just added the Theodora because Theodora was the name of a Byzantine empress.)
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Buster, you keep after that nasty old high jacker!
ReplyDeleteWe'll help you sit on the hijacker when you find him, Buster!
ReplyDeleteHah, Zippy sez she'll bite der face off when yoo find dem. Um, yoor brofur bit a chunk off da nipple and swallowed it? Did his poops come out wrapped up?
ReplyDeletewe hopes you find that highjacker!!!!
ReplyDeleteKeep putting one paw in front of the other and sooner or later you'll reach your goal!
ReplyDelete