January 4, 2007, - 12:09 pm

Dumb Website of the Day

By Debbie Schlussel
StuffonMyCat.com. WHY?
Don’t forget: Dogs Rule. Cats are useless and spread disease.
Cats . . . It’s What’s for Dinner in North Korea.

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13 Responses

Dogs drool, cats rule!!!
God created the cat so that man could pet the tiger.

feralcat9 on January 4, 2007 at 1:32 pm

Debbie,
yes indeed I agree, Dogs Rule. A cat is just a rat that meows.

Rocky on January 4, 2007 at 2:46 pm

Famous cat lovers: Ernest “sissy boy” Hemingway, Winston “surrender money” Churchill and Mark “girly-man” Twain.
Famous cat haters: Hitler, Napoleon and Mussolini
THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS TO EVERY RULE, INCLUDING ALL MEN THAT READ AND AGREE WITH THIS SITE. BUT DOGS ARE STILL MAN’S BEST FRIEND.
DEBBIE SCHLUSSEL

LoveAManInAUniform on January 4, 2007 at 2:54 pm

I love dogs. I had German shepherds. Collies are not bad either. Both are smart. Now I tend to have smaller dogs.
Dogs are smarter, useful guardians and have loyalty.
I like to watch cats but from afar only (on TV for example), especially when they sleep or just being playful.

Independent Conservative on January 4, 2007 at 3:17 pm

Now just a minute, young Schlussel!
First of all, I am no wuss.
I am real man.
And if you want to test me on that, let’s step outside.
http://www.educationation.org/early.html
Second, I have a cat.
She is a real-man’s cat.
She weighs over 20 pounds. You could plotz carrying her.
She’s a Norwegian Forest Cat.
http://www.forestcats.net/
She hunts.
Unlike dogs, she doesn’t puke and then gobble it up like Ted Kennedy. [I have no idea what that was supposed to mean.]
Nor does she roll in shit. [See quip about Kennedy.]
Nor does she eat shit.
She doesn’t expect food from me. She takes it.
When she goes outside, she swaggers around the neighborhood. When she hisses, dogs run.
Sure I would like a dog. A large one. But my wife is a sissy. So don’t blame me.
P.S. If my type of cat was good enough for the Vikings, it’s good enough for you.
P.P.S. I don’t need a dog (or a cat) to protect me from home invasion. I have a 12 gauge pump shot gun for that. As I said, I am a real man.

lance de boyle on January 4, 2007 at 6:01 pm

Now just a minute, young Schlussel!
First of all, I am no wuss.
I am real man.
And if you want to test me on that, let’s step outside.
http://www.educationation.org/early.html
Second, I have a cat.
She is a real-man’s cat.
She weighs over 20 pounds. You could plotz carrying her.
She’s a Norwegian Forest Cat.
http://www.forestcats.net/
She hunts.
Unlike dogs, she doesn’t puke and then gobble it up like Ted Kennedy. [I have no idea what that was supposed to mean.]
Nor does she roll in shit. [See quip about Kennedy.]
Nor does she eat shit.
She doesn’t expect food from me. She takes it.
When she goes outside, she swaggers around the neighborhood. When she hisses, dogs run.
Sure I would like a dog. A large one. But my wife is a sissy. So don’t blame me.
P.S. If my type of cat was good enough for the Vikings, it’s good enough for you.
P.P.S. I don’t need a dog (or a cat) to protect me from home invasion. I have a 12 gauge pump shot gun for that. As I said, I am a real man.
YOU SHOULDN’T TAKE THIS PARTICULAR POST SO PERSONALLY (THOUGH I ENJOYED READING THIS COMMENT). BESIDES, YOU MUST BE ONE OF THE EXCEPTIONS TO THE RULE, WHICH INCLUDES MEN WHO READ AND AGREE WITH THIS SITE.
DEBBIE SCHLUSSEL

lance de boyle on January 4, 2007 at 6:02 pm

Never misunderestimate a Cat!

feralcat9 on January 4, 2007 at 6:17 pm

Well I guess this site does not do HTML.
So sad.

feralcat9 on January 4, 2007 at 6:20 pm

“The night before my departure from Canada to New York, which I had never seen, I had a strange dream.” But his dream was not of beautiful forests, warm with the summer sun. It was of a crowded city, frigid with the cold of a northern winter. And although he had never been there, his dream captured the way Manhattan looks and feels after a major snowstorm.
It was a terribly severe winter in New York; the city was completely covered with snow. Inhabitants were well off and warmly dressed and walking slowly along roads because cars, due to mountains of snow, could not be operated. I was happy that I could walk on top of the snow on avenues of white.
All my physical effort was spent on walking. To this day, pictures of huge apartment houses on both sides of the avenue are instilled in my mind and the doormen quickly closing and opening entrance doors as though trying to prevent humanity and warmth from escaping.
On top of the snow, I noticed a brown cat emerge from a side street and walk on the snow. I looked closer and, to my surprise, saw that this big cat was being followed by six small brown-and-white kittens, all of them following the big brown cat in a perfect line. The mother cat looked back from time to time to see if her babies were there, but her main concern was to reach the entrance door. I presumed she was trying to find warmth for herself and her children, but as soon as she reached the door, a man in a well-pressed uniform jumped at her with a broom and chased them away. I followed this procession and prepared to deliver a speech to the doorman. I opened my mouth and tried to complain, Ôø?Where is your proverbial American generosity? Where is your American good heart and fair play? Let them in. Let them in!!Ôø?
I tried to speak, but the words would not come out. Maybe I was afraid of the doorman with the broom. I started searching my cassock pockets for a piece of bread, found some crumbs, and put them on my palms, calling, Ôø?Kitty, kitty, kitty.Ôø? But the words would not come from my supposedly intelligent mouth. Instead, the wind blew the crumbs from my palm, and I said, Ôø?What can I do? I canÔø?t speak to the cats. I canÔø?t speak to the doorman. But there are many hungry birds. They might pick up the crumbs.Ôø?
Again, I walked after the cats, now with a pain in my chest, feeling tremendous cold. On the left, I saw a church building and thought, Ôø?There we will find help.Ôø? I heard singing, and again, the idea occurred to me that it must be a Catholic church. The music grew louder, as though trying to convince God that they were praying to Him.
The mother cat jumped in front of me and climbed the stairs, followed by her kittens. I raised my head and saw a tall Jesuit priest chasing the cats off the steps. But as I was about to shout at the Jesuit, Ôø?I am a cardinal!Ôø? and give an order to accept the cats, the mother cat and her offspring ran behind the church because from there came the appetizing aroma of food. Probably there was a kitchen there. But a second Jesuit appeared at the kitchen door and scared the cats away. They returned to the avenue and started walking north.
They walked on the same side of the avenue as the Jesuit church and I followed. Then they reached an imposing red brick church. An Anglican bishop appeared and said to the cats, Ôø?My dear animal children, please go immediately to the animal shelter. There is food for you there. We Anglican clergy donate lots of money to the animal shelter every year at Christmastime.Ôø?
The mother cat and her kittens didnÔø?t even meow. They knew the authoritative voice of the Anglican bishop. They walked uptown and gradually the luxurious buildings disappeared, together with the doormen, and we saw drab dilapidated apartments.
As they walked and the buildings grew shabbier and dirty, a door was opened, not by a doorman but by an old wrinkled woman in a cotton dress. [She saw the cats] and shouted, Ôø?Oh, little mother,Ôø? and when she opened her mouth, I saw she had few teeth. She gently ushered the mother cat and kittens inside, who jumped happily about because the warmth of the house embraced them.”
Cardinal Wojtyla later became Pope John Paul II.

feralcat9 on January 4, 2007 at 6:36 pm

P.S.
The narrative ended as the cats found a safe haven with the woman who had little enough, herself. When the Pope concluded his dream, the author to whom he related it did not make any comment on what had been said. But he did write that “I had never seen such a sad expression on the face of this man.” Considering that this was the same man who had related the horrors of his young manhood under Nazi occupation, the author’s remark shows the deep impact this dream had on the Pope.
If the Pontiff offered a commentary on his dream, Anton Gronowicz does not share it with the reader. But we are told that John Paul began to recite the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi. “Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love …, where there is darkness, light, and where there is sadness, joy.”

feralcat9 on January 4, 2007 at 7:28 pm

“YOU SHOULDN’T TAKE THIS PARTICULAR POST SO PERSONALLY (THOUGH I ENJOYED READING THIS COMMENT). BESIDES, YOU MUST BE ONE OF THE EXCEPTIONS TO THE RULE, WHICH INCLUDES MEN WHO READ AND AGREE WITH THIS SITE.”
DEBBIE SCHLUSSEL
What rule would that be?
Just curious (like a cat).

feralcat9 on January 4, 2007 at 7:34 pm

Debbie –
This being the internet, I’d be surprised if there *wasn’t* a site devoted to putting things on your cat.
Have you ever seen catsinsinks.com?

Dan on January 4, 2007 at 8:27 pm

Here’s another one: http://catrecipes.com
But I did have one cat, named Sabe (short for Kemosabe) that I loved dearly – he was an exceptional cat…never made messes, followed me around like a dog, and understood plain English.

Jenn on January 5, 2007 at 3:10 pm

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