Sunday, January 18, 2009
Send me pictures of feral cats
You may find it hard to believe. Indeed, you may be shocked to learn that the internet only has a finite number of feral cat images. (For the record, that "finite number" is 40,700.)
I'm going to add to that canon here with two screenshots of the "feral barn cat" that launched my interest in starting up this site: a feral barn cat named "Garbage" (who lived in Schrute Farms originally) from Season 4 Episode 2 of The Office (US).
Dwight:
Garbage killed an entire family of raccoons.
But I can't do this all from dubiously legal NBC/Universal screenshots, and Google images will start to run out. So that's why I need your help.
Please go out and find--perhaps even befriend--a feral cat. After you photograph it (please indicate its gender), email it to feralolcats@gmail.com. Then, provide it with food and talk to the authorities at the humane society about bringing it in. (More on that later).
I also anticipate several caption contests--perhaps even weekly! Weekly until I forget about this silly project, that is. And maybe some polls, to vote on the best captions?!
But please, get those pictures coming in.
Allow me, though, to briefly share a terrifying sight I saw most mornings last fall: a nasty, angry, feral black cat crossing my path as I walked out the back door of my house. I was very shocked as to why this cat would be running around out there. Then, I put two and two together: could it be that the compost pile behind my garage that has been cutting down on the garbage so much is attracting feral animals?
It's dead-cold winter, and yet I'm still in the habit of dumping food back there. I think it's a wash environmentally, although my dog Maddy really loves it for two reasons: for instance, last week, when I was taking her outside, she made a bee-line to the back of the garage and starting going crazy trying to lick the partially coagulated, month-old chicken noodle soup I had jiggled out of the bowl where it sat in my fridge since mid-December. Secondly, it brings more bunnies by the house, and dachshunds live to chase them (not that she ever gets to, with these leash laws and everything).
And yet, an even third, better reason: every once in awhile, something happens to her ears and I'm sure there's a nasty meow going on beyond these walls. The cry of:
It's a feral barn cat. I trapped him last night and I'm giving him to you as a replacement cat for the one I destroyed. And his name is Garbage. Mose calls him Garbage because he likes to eat garbage. Don't you, Garbage?! Arh, arh, arh!
Garbage killed an entire family of raccoons.
But I can't do this all from dubiously legal NBC/Universal screenshots, and Google images will start to run out. So that's why I need your help.
Yes, YOU!
Please go out and find--perhaps even befriend--a feral cat. After you photograph it (please indicate its gender), email it to feralolcats@gmail.com. Then, provide it with food and talk to the authorities at the humane society about bringing it in. (More on that later).
I also anticipate several caption contests--perhaps even weekly! Weekly until I forget about this silly project, that is. And maybe some polls, to vote on the best captions?!
But please, get those pictures coming in.
Allow me, though, to briefly share a terrifying sight I saw most mornings last fall: a nasty, angry, feral black cat crossing my path as I walked out the back door of my house. I was very shocked as to why this cat would be running around out there. Then, I put two and two together: could it be that the compost pile behind my garage that has been cutting down on the garbage so much is attracting feral animals?
It's dead-cold winter, and yet I'm still in the habit of dumping food back there. I think it's a wash environmentally, although my dog Maddy really loves it for two reasons: for instance, last week, when I was taking her outside, she made a bee-line to the back of the garage and starting going crazy trying to lick the partially coagulated, month-old chicken noodle soup I had jiggled out of the bowl where it sat in my fridge since mid-December. Secondly, it brings more bunnies by the house, and dachshunds live to chase them (not that she ever gets to, with these leash laws and everything).
And yet, an even third, better reason: every once in awhile, something happens to her ears and I'm sure there's a nasty meow going on beyond these walls. The cry of:
The few, the proud, the brave, the nasty, the feral.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
For the record
I hate LOLcats, and I think they're emblematic of a crumbling society. They became popular for the same reason that the boy-band boom of Y2K happened: middle-aged women and tween-girls found common ground in tastes. That's a dangerous combination, a potent demographic coalition that has undone the promising career of Justin Guarini while promoting MOR chanteusse Kelly Clarkson, re-popularized knitting (which is not a bad thing, actually), and enabled a generation of new-emailers (young and old) to learn and re-learn bad forwarding habits.
It seems that whenever a group of people--be they 12 or be they 45--first become able to email, they play out the entire, awful, horrific evolution of the internet in their probational period of becoming (one hopes) responsible internet users. To that end, the usenet, message-board fad is an unfortunate formative period best left in the dustbin of history with Compuserve and Prodigy modem-set-up 5 1/4" floppy disks.
LOLcats are memorials to this awful time.
It seems that whenever a group of people--be they 12 or be they 45--first become able to email, they play out the entire, awful, horrific evolution of the internet in their probational period of becoming (one hopes) responsible internet users. To that end, the usenet, message-board fad is an unfortunate formative period best left in the dustbin of history with Compuserve and Prodigy modem-set-up 5 1/4" floppy disks.
LOLcats are memorials to this awful time.
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