I PAID FOR THAT WATER YOU PRICKIf you couldn't tell by looking at him, Bat-Bat is a Maine Coon. In order words, he's a fucking jumbled mess of nature and an abomination in the face of whatever beast decided to spawn him (possibly another Maine Coon, I haven't checked). Maine Coons were named so because our idiot ancestors who discovered these animals assumed that cats could breed with raccoons. There's also a theory that Maine Coons were given that name because everyone was really racist until about 40 years ago, and they thought it would be a hoot to work the word "coon" into an animal name -- sort of like what they did with the KKKangaroo (now extinct).
Whatever the case, Maine Coons are no different than your average felines, except they are shaped like regular cats baked into meatloaves and they somehow have the energy of puppy dogs for their entire lives. I assume that many of you find this an interesting prospect; who doesn't want an eternal puppy dog by their side? Well, my friends, the only thing that stings more than your ignorance are the various wounds I have on my body for thinking that I could treat Bat-Bat like any other entity with a such a low center of gravity. If you shove a fat man, by the laws of our society he should laugh and take your abuse as part of our national contract of ridicule; sadly, these rules do not apply to the animal kingdom.
I PAID FOR THAT LAUNDRY YOU COCKLet me explain an interesting contradiction. If a dog bites you, well then that's a big fucking deal. Sometimes they're put to sleep, sometimes they "go to live on a farm" (shot behind your garage) or "go to live with grandma" (shot behind your garage by your grandma). The concept of a dog biting someone is so shocking that entire movies have been made about the social ramifications of this act, and the subsequent shooting of the animal behind a garage. As you can see, getting bitten by a dog is headline-caliber material for any average, Midwestern town.
If a cat bites you, well, welcome to the status fucking quo. And people will even tell you to "calm down" or "please leave" if you question the absence of outrage with your own outrage. I don't know who made these backwards rules, but I the see the invisible, shaggy paw of Bat-Bat and his contemporaries guiding this fiend's pen. Why else would the animal in question choose to strike out at me for an act as criminal as "walking by him" or "trying to remove my valuable possessions from his iron grip?"
Oh, no, Bat-Bat, I didn't want that collectible plush cow I got from pre-ordering a Harvest Moon game from GameStop seven years ago. See, now my blood's all over it. You have it now. It can't possibly be worth the thousands of dollars it was once valued at. I guess I'll just have to take solace in the fact that my wallscrolls are still ok--OH SHI
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
Ignore the hype. Find out how these games will likely go right or wrong.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.