Post #32: Guess who?
Geez, another cat. Lame! :(
If you’re like me, you’re wondering, ‘What’s with all the cats? Can’t he do anything other than cats? I’m tired of cats.’ All valid. But, let’s explore.
For starters, I can barely draw cats, however I did concentrate on them for nearly a year solid when I was illustrating my never to be released book. So, it’s a natural go-to for that reason. Second, cats are very expressive, why they can look: annoyed, perturbed, grouchy, sullen, displeased, aggravated, irritated, and vexed. There is such range there, unlike dogs, who are one note—happy. Dogs are guileless and giving, and who wants that in a companion? Whereas, cats are blackguardly, exploitative, and unsentimental—much better suited to the company of people. As a matter of fact, they are a lot like people, only smaller and covered in fur, which is probably why people like them so much.
Well, I’ve worked out a new prose poem about a certain variety of cat, and have two companion drawings. The poem was the byproduct of an initial drawing that I did in a sketch book. Here goes:
Warring and Well-Fed
“An army marches on its stomach”, is a quote attributed to Napoleon, and he should know, cause he was named after a pastry, and made a mean strombolian.
Speaking of culinary and martial matters, there is a cat of no uncertain variety, displaying a lack of virtue and a disregard for piety, whose motto is, “Let’s break bread, and umm, mew, mew, break heads too.”, whose only desires in waking life are stuffing his chubby face with tasty grub, and besting on the field of battle every rival, cretin, nimrod, and scrub.
So, get up you sleepy head, crack open an eye, shake off the night, and crawl out of bed. The world is your litter box—when you’re warring and well-fed.
Its power is clear, but what of the accompanying images?
There’s obviously a lot more going on in the second image, where we see the spoils of war—notably, canned cat food and a can opener; held up in the ecstasy of conquest—and a ‘cat-tower’ village he just raided burning in the background. It’s a gorey scene, and you can almost smell the pressed board and polyester burning.
My cat, Peanut,—who never looks annoyed— wishes you all a Merry Christmas.
