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Service interruption on account of: kitten

Not pictured: tiny needle-sharp fangs sunk in my flesh.

Mad Jack and I have been exiled upstairs, on account of Uncle B is doing data backups and the cat is having a little episode of bugfuck insanity, so I’m afraid this is it for tonight. Talk amongst yourself.

I understand the Obamacare website is having some problems, maybe you can find something in there worthy of conversation.

Oh, hey. Our clocks change this weekend and we’re supposed to have a hell of a storm Sunday night. The weather service is a buncha pansy drama queens, but maybe it will be something after all. Wish us well, and if you don’t hear from me Monday, don’t panic. Good weekend!


Comment from East Asia
Time: October 25, 2013, 11:02 pm

I can tell he’s crazy by those big eyes. Dead eyes, like a doll’s eyes.

stay warm! and unpunctured.

Comment from Uncle Badger
Time: October 25, 2013, 11:10 pm

I should explain – Mr Paranoid here gets antsy if he doesn’t back-up to an external drive a lot . The trouble is the connector on the back of my drive is… sensitive. And Mad Jack regards all cables as snakes. One day I may be glad of this (badgers hate snakes) but for now it means Jack and the external drive need to be kept on separate planets.

Still, he’s a good lad. Earlier I had a snooze, to be woken by one of his whiskers tickling my nose, He’d been asleep for ages within inches of my face and I hadn’t even realised.

All together now.. ‘Awwwwww’… ๐Ÿ™‚

Comment from Mrs Compton
Time: October 25, 2013, 11:12 pm

Unca B, since you have control of the innnertubes and you might be surfing Ms Weasels site for naughty people, maybe you could ask her if she knows of an album of Big Band music done on a kick ass big huge church organ, not some pansy evangelical organ but a great big possibly St Paul’s sort of thing. Thanks!!

Comment from Mrs Compton
Time: October 25, 2013, 11:15 pm

It wasn’t cuteness, he was slowly sneaking up you a mm at a time so he could suffocate you. You woke in the nick of time!

Comment from Some Vegetable
Time: October 25, 2013, 11:45 pm

Uncle B,
Your story of sleeping kitty whiskers reminds me of my ever-favorite cat Georgio (known to his friends as Jo) whom I always called my ‘gentleman cat’. He never bit or hissed at anyone nor would he scratch them. Jo dearly loved his breakfast and would get on the bed next to my face and wait for me to wake up, for then it was breakfast time! However he never deliberately woke me (as certain cats whom politeness prevents me from cursing naming) by slapping me or pulling my hair with his teeth. Still, he did take great interest in finding out if I was really sleeping. Therefore he would creep closer and closer to my face until his cold, wet, cat nose touched my warm sleeping one. If I opened my eyes he would stare deep into them and then start to dance around in little circles of delight. Yet, if I managed to keep them closed, he would just….wait….and try again in a few minutes. I loved that cat.

Comment from Deborah
Time: October 26, 2013, 12:39 am

Wait … wait! Did I black out? I thought his name was Buster? I must have missed a post.

Comment from Deborah
Time: October 26, 2013, 3:13 am

Dang. I just looked at the weather forecast for your neighborhood. Reckon Mad Jack’s internal barometer is reacting to the falling pressure? You’ve good reason to be paranoid about backing up your data. I’m glad y’all have a little time secure Badger’s Ark before the storm hits. Hope the chickens get to come inside. I’ll be watching the weather news and praying until we hear from you again.

Comment from Nina
Time: October 26, 2013, 3:14 am


/obliging Unk B. ๐Ÿ™‚

Comment from Man Mountain Molehill
Time: October 26, 2013, 3:16 am

I had a kitten who used to climb
my back and bite my neck.
Oh so cute! My little kitten is trying to kill me!

Comment from mojo
Time: October 26, 2013, 4:14 am

Think of momma cat, with 4-5 of those little monsters stalking her tail…

Comment from Oceania
Time: October 26, 2013, 10:03 am

I had Dr Goats New Zealand ‘cousin It’ for dinner tonight.

Very tasty.
Cousin it was lovingly prepared, and turned into a gamey meatloaf in a cast iron cook pot.

I’m sorry Dr Goat … burp.


Comment from S. Weasel
Time: October 26, 2013, 11:10 am

We were calling him Buster, Deborah, when he was little and did nothing but snooze and purr. When he woke up and became a wild man, my own preferred moniker — Mad Jack — seemed more appropriate.

To be honest, though, we call him Burt when he makes that little brrrt sound (which is often), Buster, Budge, Buddy and BooBoo. Also, Monkeyface.

I’m afraid all of my animals have to endure this. I call them by their proper names when it’s important — like when there’s a particularly nice treat, or they’re about to step on something hot — and they do seem to learn their names okay.

Comment from Mrs Compton
Time: October 26, 2013, 4:28 pm

I like Mad Jack!

Comment from Uncle Badger
Time: October 26, 2013, 5:06 pm

The above are the names Her Stoatliness calls him. I have… other names. Especially when he is swinging from my trouser legs with his claws ripping at my flesh.

But right now, as I type, he is curled up on my back paws, fast asleep. Jack. Mad, sometimes.

Comment from Mojo
Time: October 26, 2013, 5:45 pm

“Kitties Rip My Flesh”…

Comment from Nina
Time: October 26, 2013, 6:29 pm

I’ve always dreaded the day when the cats figure out that we are all made of meat, and lots of it, hidden behind a flimsy, also edible, wrapper.

Comment from iamfelix
Time: October 26, 2013, 9:18 pm

“A loved child has many names.” – Finnish proverb

My mother used to say that a lot.

Comment from Pupster
Time: October 27, 2013, 1:02 pm

Hey Stoaty, I saw this on Imgur and thought you might enjoy it.


Comment from S. Weasel
Time: October 28, 2013, 12:32 am

Fair enough. We had English food in the ethnic section in RI.

Ah, but did you see THIS on Imgur?

Comment from dissent555
Time: October 28, 2013, 3:19 am

What the heck, Pupster. Where’s the light beer?

Comment from AliceH
Time: October 28, 2013, 4:15 am

I had no idea there was such a thing as Reese’s Puff cereal.

Comment from Pupster
Time: October 28, 2013, 5:31 pm

OMG AliceH it is a wondrous thing, and the milk tastes like a peanut butter shake at the end.

Also – http://tinyurl.com/kq884kz

Comment from AltBBrown
Time: October 28, 2013, 7:47 pm

Didja get a little rain and wind over there, Sweas?

Comment from Scubafreak
Time: October 28, 2013, 9:35 pm

Ah yes, the joys of therapeutic Kitteh-Puncture….

Comment from Wolfus Aurelius
Time: October 29, 2013, 3:45 pm

Many of my cats have had nicknames. Arizona, the big red Maine Coon mix, was known as Plumus Tailius Arizonicus; Marie-Antoinette, as Twanette. Chekov the Siberian is known as Lampkiller (for his hobby) and Tubbo (for his barrel-shaped form). And Wolf, the big black thug, is known as — well, see my screen name.

All of them, of course, were and are known from time to time as “Dammit.”

Comment from Oh Hell
Time: October 30, 2013, 4:08 am

My neighbor’s name is Mad Jack…..
I, too, have been a victim of Kitteh-Puncture…..Mine are named Thing 1 and Thing 2.

Comment from Nina
Time: October 30, 2013, 4:33 am

Kitteh puncture and the raspy sandpaper that is a kitteh tongue scouring every bit of imagined dirt from your nose. Or eye. Or ear. Or whatever the cat can reach.

We do not own them. ๐Ÿ™‚

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