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25 November, 2008

If only I was a cat...

...I would not know that the proper grammatical expression is "If only I were a cat"

And therein lies the rub. White kitty at my feet. Blissfully unaware of the nuances of nothingness. He had his food. He had his insulin. And in a few short minutes he will have his snuggly time with a cousin species (me), and that will be basically all it takes for him to achieve enlightenment.

But I need to sit here and wonder about the meaning of life. Is evolution the governing force that dictates all? Are genes the currency of existence? Or are they merely one way of counting the beans? Is everything about everything? Or is everything about me? Or is everything about nothing? And is it drunkenness that is causing me to repeatedly put my g's before my n's in every word that ends in -ing? Or is it fatigue? Or is it magical pixies that are restraining my pinkies from striking the keyboard properly? I had to think about it to realize that the pinky is never involved in a g or an n, unless you are a seriously horrible typist.

All these things I need to worry about. And I am still self-conscious (I almost typed self-couscous, which is another story altogether) about the fact that I occasionally end a sentence with a preposition. Apparently that's no longer inappropriate. I guess that marks another notch in the deterioration of Western Civilization. Nobody cares where we put our prepositions at. How sad is that?

Whatever.

I have a kitty to snuggle.

So fuck all y'all.

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