Cats are fucking assholes. Yeah, I said it. Throughout history, cats have had an uncanny ability to lull people into their graces with the innocence of kittenhood, only to turn them in to Stepford Wife Shit Cleaning Sextoys with no immunity against the insidious plots that boil within the feline brain. I know you’re not supposed to talk about someone behind their back, but to be quite honest, there could be 15 cats behind me right now, but with their ninja reflexes and cunning of a chick trying to blow me off cordially, I’d fucking never know. There are 5 main reasons why cats, under no circumstance, should ever be left alone with children, your wallet, or uranium.
1. Cats are sexual deviants.
“Oh, look at that cute little kitten” says the unknowingly harassed victim. As humans, we have a natural propensity to pay attention to animals. Because of our evolutionary past as hunters, as well as our less distant agrarian history and present as we utilize animals for labor and food, we are genetically hardwired to pay attention to animals. That, coupled with our vulnerability to anthropomorphize other species, renders us defenseless against the charms of anything warm and fuzzy that won’t eat us (don’t fuck with bears, man).
This may appear harmless enough, a little lap sitting and some heavy petting, but the next thing you know you’ve got that sick son of a bitch outstretched on your lap, rolling around like Madonna in a wedding dress--I’ve seen it a thousand times. Once you’re enveloped by the sexual dominance of these furry, malevolent fuckhounds, you’re defenseless against the sick sexual gratification of which felines apparently have no limits. They are obvious sadists, as they sporadically gnaw on your fingers. They often intertwine your manual stimulation with self-fellatio. For the love of Cheshire, in a desperate act of masochism, they even vibrate, tempting you to violate everything that’s sacred to Rick Santorum.
And even if you could forgive all that, do you know what else was furry and made weird noises? Furbies. And fuck Furbies. Which in no way leads to my next point:
|Left millions of children wishing you got them a fucking puppy.|
2. All cats are Russian spies.
Yes, that’s right. This whole time you thought little Buttercup was out chasing mice (who actually have an extremely well-structured capitalistic society) or filling the air with playful dandelion seeds, she was actually out activating sleeper cell agents to radically overthrow capitalism, Jesus, the Bee Gees, missionary sex with servants and everything else our forefathers stood for.
Where did I get this intelligence do you ask? Well, although I can admit I’ve been fooled once or twice in the past, I met a Russian once. The accent was a dead giveaway. If you’ve ever heard a Russian speak, they are most certainly purring. It is obvious Russia was the only place cats could have picked up this thick, cryptic language. Also, such as in Egypt, historically cats been held in high position as lords of the underworld. Everyone knows Lenin played a lot of Dungeons and Dragons, so he’d totally be into that shit. Not to mention, Aristocats was undoubtedly a propaganda technique to criticize American wealth inequality. So hide ya kids, hide ya wife, cause cats be snatchin’ yo excess up.
|Masters of the Mustachio|
3. Cats are full of shit.
When I say cats are full of shit, I don’t mean that as metaphor for being asshole-showing liars (even though they are). I also don’t mean they’re literally packed full of a shit like a late John Wayne (ew). What I do mean, is cats are full of bad shit, that’s not actually shit, but is shit that can be transmitted to you, through their shit.
Cat shit is possibly the only thing more disgusting than cat piss. However, the thing about cat piss is that it is easily detected through human olfaction, while cat shit is another issue entirely. Let me preface this by saying, I don’t trust anything that doesn’t stand by its shit. When a dog takes a shit, he stands by it, sniffs it, gives it a good lick or two, and lets the whole world know, “Hey man, that’s my shit!” When a man takes a shit, well strike me dead if he doesn’t perfuse the next room with his stench and tell everyone he knows of the glorious becoming on his porcelain throne.
However, when a cat shits, he hides his shit. Not only is he without pride in what nature has accomplished through his being, but he knows it is a tool of wrath. Sandboxes everywhere are riddled with cat shit, easily mistaken as mud, threatening our children with parasites and disease, as well as we adults who enjoy a good mudpie or two when we pass out naked in a playground on St. Patrick’s Day. Which brings me to my next point.
4. Cats are are capable of mind-control.
That’s right, that shit in that cats’ shit we were talking about. Well, that’s some fucked up shit. Cat shit can contain Toxoplasma gondii, or parasitic protozoa that have some pretty crazy effects. While Conservatives are flying the fetal flag to protect our embryos against the succubae of science and the perils of progression, Toxoplasma gondii are flying under the radar and drop-kicking the fetuses of immunocompromised women.
As if all that wasn’t enough, Toxoplasma gondii can also infect adult human hosts as well. Your immune system is unguarded against the powers of Toxoplasma gondii, as the eggs infiltrate your brain and hijack your neurochemistry. A short life cycle of the Toxoplasma gondii will clear all of this up.
Toxoplasma gondii want to get into cat shit. It’s weird, but that’s their thing. They infect mice and rats, and their ninja mind-control abilities make these rodents less fearful of cats. So little Ratatouille puts some bad bologna in his spaghetti and “POOF!” He’s running headfirst into a herd of stray cats like William Wallace charging the English. After the Toxoplasma gondii make their way into the cat, they are then excreted into the world in cat shit. Fuckin’ cats. So if we are in contact with cat shit, or the animals we consume that can be infected with the Toxoplasma gondii from the fields, we, in turn are also infected. Some studies report that as many as 60% of Americans are infected with Toxoplasma gondii. Toxoplasma gondii is capable of manipulating some dopaminergic pathways in the human brain, which some statistics suggest lead to reckless behavior, hypersexuality, and thrill-seeking (so does cocaine). But all of this is only possible because:
5. Cats are pussies.
In no way am I trying to undermine the ferocity and sinister nature of cats. I learned from Hoosiers, Rudy, and watching retarded kids try to pop bubbles that you should never underestimate your enemy. Cats are cute, fuzzy, and seemingly benign, but that’s not why they so easily penetrate our society like a sneaky chemical across the blood-brain barrier.
Somewhere, in our lingual origins, there was a man. That man may have had good intentions, trying to make the obligation of extensive vocabulary unnecessary, but he committed the most fatal mistake in the history of our species. He connected the term “pussy” to both vaginas (good) and cats (bad). Now, when we men encounter pussy cats, there is a misattribution of arousal, a hormonal stew boils in our blood, reinforcing a connection with the object we encounter. This inevitably leads us back to number 1. And so, we will forever perk our ears whenever a cat is mentioned, rendering us dangerously vulnerable to wanting to touch it, setting in motion the wheels of our mortality.
There is no holy water for cats and the chances of both catching one and finding a wooden stake to impale it with in the same lifetime is minimal at best. This is why we stay in our houses on Friday the 13th, we’ve developed a common allergy to the dander of the little beasts, and it’s never safe in a back alley at dusk. So please, don’t feed your cat after midnight. I’d tell you not to feed it at all, but I know the consequence would only be your own demise. Stay off the street, hide your milk, and if you do nothing else, get a fucking dog.