Greater Hartford Fat Cat Fat-Off '08

One of the nice things about Twitter is the sense of community that it has created for me. A very small number of the people that I "follow" on Twitter are people that I know personally, in a real-time, three-dimensional (four-dimensional?) flesh-and-blood sort of way. Nonetheless, the majority of the people that I follow on Twitter are within a ten or twenty mile radius of me.

It was with this in mind that I eagerly volunteered to be the judge for the first annual "Greater Hartford Fat Cat Fat-Off." Seven different people have submitted pics of kittehs that are really "pushing maximum density." It's my pleasure to choose the fattest feline of them all, which is a task that was much harder than I anticipated. (It was so hard that I had to make a "cat-centric" playlist to ease the judging.)

Below are my six favorite pics (w/ comments) in no particular order, except that the conquering cat is pulling up the rear, so as to speak.

The first two pics are actually not eligible for the grand prize (because they were taken before the announcement of the competition, and one was submitted a wee bit after the deadline, methinks). Pity that, because these are some fat feckin' kittehs!

Napoleon, striking the classic "monorail-cat" pose, is overlarge. And his girth is no doubt increased be the flattening effect of gravity.

Gravity plays a part in this pic's success, too. Nonetheless, that is a flabbytabby, and the pic gets extra points for composition, but alas is disqualified by strict FCFO official rules.

Heddafeddah had a few cats in contention, but they were, um, largely underweight (though Luigi has some impressive neck fat goin' on). I was impressed by Butter, though. He seems proud of his paunch, even if he is busy concentrating on playing his invisible sitar.

Miles looks massive, but I wonder how massive he is under all that fur.

In that case, all hail the short-hair! Flawlesswalrus' cat is clearly one solid mass of kitteh, and gets extra points for sheer roundness of face. This cat is decidedly big-boned.

But it was this pic that tipped the scales. Dinky is anything but, and she has a certain sense of existential complexity that I found to be endearing (this cat reads Poe!). Iow, she is weighty in more ways than one. I declare her to be the fattest cat in all the land!

Congrats to all cats and their owners. You've really let yourselves go.

(Now I'm going to go pray to the Gods of literary restraint for all of the horrible puns I let loose in this post...)

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"Everbody Knows"

When I got home last night, the parking lot behind my apartment building was completely full. This was a first for my relatively short tenure on Spring Street. I had some things to unload, so I drove back up the hill and parked in the "No Parking Zone"/"Fire Lane" directly in front of my door, while I carried in the book-bag, groceries and harmonium that would have probably required two trips.

Several minutes later my car and I returned to the parking lot, to find a single empty space, directly in front of the stairway that leads to the apartment building's back entrance. I felt a momentary twinge of guilt as I pulled into the fresh new space, anticipating the inconvenience that I would most likely be causing for someone in the near future.

I managed to get over it.

This afternoon, when I walked out to my car, I found a(n) - actually rather legibly written - note under my windshield wiper, penned in block letters, sans punctuation, on the back of a Dunkin' Donuts napkin. The author's intentions were clear, though the logic was unsound:
My reply:
Now I know, too. Thanks.

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Metaphysical Personal Statement Generator
(via BakerDave)

It's like MadlibsTM, but you only get to choose one adjective, and then repeat, and repeat.

I'm ______ about being _____, when I'm _____.

As in:

I'm content about being content, when I'm content.


I'm dissatisfied about being dissatisfied, when I'm dissatisfied.

It has a certain zen-koan-like quality about it, doesn't it?



Where's My Stuff?

So... today is my 30th birthday. It's a milestone, and milestones are good for sitting on, while resting one's tired feet and peering lazily into the distance to see just how far you've come. Bob Dylan said "don't look back" (or was that D.A. Pennebaker? Incidentally, Pennebaker's birthday is tomorrow. Even more incidentally, Cameron Crowe's birthday was yesterday.). At any rate, what the feck does Bob Dylan know? It's not like he's accomplished anything noteworthy.

Speaking of accomplishments, I have to say I'm feeling kind of gypped. Here I am, already thirty years dead, and what do I have to show for myself? Like most of my generation, I grew up watching unprecedented amounts of television, and all of that technologically enhanced cultural indoctrination led me to believe that I could expect some pretty exciting nonsense from life.

I mean, here I am, three quarters of the way to over-the-hill, and I have yet to do any of the following things:
  • I never threw a raging part y while my parents were away for the weekend, and just managed to get things cleaned up before they came home.
  • When I was in high school, I never got partnered with a girl in my health class, whom I couldn't stand, and then had to babysit an egg for a week like it was our progeny.
  • I've never volunteered to take a single mom to lamaze class.
  • I've never pretended to be the fiance of a beautiful foreign acquaintance/co-worker so that she could get her green card.
  • I've never taken care of a neighbor's pet while they were on vacation, accidentally killed it, or let it run away, and then replaced it with a look-alike before they got back.
  • I have never sustained a playfully adversarial and sexually charged long term social relationship with a woman whom I refer to by her last name, and whom everyone knows I will eventually end up with, even though everyone also knows that getting together will mean horrible ratings and canceling the show.
  • I've never even been caught in an implausible scenario where I'm forced to pass the time by reminiscing with my companions in a series of picture perfect flashbacks that play a lot like a demo reel of my best-moments-since-last-season.
Maybe in another ten years, I will have checked some of these off the to-do-before-I-die list. I'm just glad I didn't grow up watching reality TV.


Downtown E Hartford: WTF!?

Saw an African-American gentleman wearing an oversize camouflage t-shirt, superimposed with an airbrushed picture of... Leonard Cohen?


Oh, that’s Scarface.

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Dani California [or] Blood Sugar Sex Pistols?

Who would've thought the Red Hot Chili Peppers still had good ideas? All this time, I thought their latest double-album (Stadium Arcadium) was redundant proof that the Chili Peppers were bloated '90s dinosaurs, stubbornly persisting in the new millennium. My good friend, Monjarmor, set me straight.

Any video that manages to reference Glenn Danzig and Bootsy Collins, while shamelessly mocking the sacrosanctity of that laughably ubiquitous Nirvana Unplugged performance (not to mention indulging in some pretty hilarious self-parody - You go, Anthony Kiedis!), is well worth mentioning. And watching. And watching again.

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About me

  • I'm e
  • From East Hartford, Connecticut, United States
  • "you are what you like"
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