I was recently placed in the dismal situation of entering in the 2009 Jacksonville University Annual Juried Student Art Show, a lengthy title which parallels the mass amount of crappy work which is entered yearly. As a photo major, I was required to enter work of my style, and I, of course, chose images which utterly kick ass. Unfortunately, the bimbo who judged the show could not wrap her (probably) blond head around the undeniable adorableness that is my cat.
My cat, James, is not like the nasty, annoying child which you consider to be the most adorable being on Earth despite his incessant screaming down the cereal aisle, completely disrupting my pajama-clad recovery from alcoholic bliss. My cat is ACTUALLY the greatest cat on Earth and when he dies, he will be the greatest cat in hell, too.
For my James can single-handedly destroy ALL the blinds in my house in under an hour, rip the corners of my Pottery Barn couch to shreds in mere days, and reposition the litter-from the box to floor-faster than a CCC worker can dig and fill a hole on tax payer's cash. If that's not amazing destruction speed then I don't know what is! Hiroshima has nothing on James' capabilities!
Yes, James has raised my trampy canine inclined self to suave feline aficionado status, if for no other reason then fear of opposition. However, even through the pain, he has taught me much: I did not know the true taste of food until seasoned with cat hair. I could not appreciate Neosporin and Band-Aid, as vital American corporations, until the savage claw beating awakened me. In fact, if the annihilation to flesh continues, I might even come around to socialized health care..
Regardless, I am forever indebted to your kindness in opening my eyes to another realm, James. Despite what ostentatious art swine may think, I know of your true greatness.