Internet Voice

Listen to the ocelot woman

The internet is a great place to get your voice heard. It evens the playing field. In real life no one would listen to you because you’re a walleyed coupon-cutting bitch who smells like hay, or an evil dandruffy nerd who’s not even smart wearing a church shirt. But because of the anonymity of the internet nobody can visually ID the cloak of invalidity that covers you like ditch maggots on a possum corpse. You’ve concealed your shittiness. Now people read what you have to say and they judge it based on your words only. The reader has to assume that you’re a reasonable person, and not a bad permed bi-polar ex-stepmom who loves internet pseudoscience or a teen WWE loving dog jacker-offer or a self-righteous new vegan with an unrelenting coalmine-fire of rage and an ITunes full of reggae, socially conscious hip-hop, and Barenaked Ladies. I hate your stupid opinion. You’re wrong. You’re not smart. You’re not funny. Whoever gave you the idea that you were smart? Whoever gave you the idea you were funny? You deserve nothing. You pollute society with your half-baked ideas. You don’t ever ponder anything. You know where a person like you would do great? Prison. Stupidity rules in prison. You’d never have to read and there’s always gossip & bullshit fables that everyone believes. I hate you. I honestly hate you. I HATE you. But I am like you. I…I am you.

Bobcats

Not this kind of bobcat dummy.

Bobcats are like petite post-menopausal women. It’s a fact. If a bobcat gets ahold of your remote control you will be watching J.A.G. or The Mentalist or Judging Amy some other hour-long drama that you didn’t know was still on. A bobcat’s refrigerator contains foods that most folks take pride in finding inedible: bottles of different raspberry vinaigrettes, skim milk, mango salsa. The bobcat’s pantry is no better: an open box of Rosemary ‘n Tuscan Red Pepper flavored Triscuit triangles (stale), Folgers decaffeinated crystals, dates. A bobcat knows little about its compact car, but is still proud about getting a cd player installed in it nine years ago. Bobcats go to reggae festivals and drink wine there. Bobcats go to art openings wearing big kooky earrings and matching goofy necklaces. Bobcats are either really for or are really against gay cat marriage. Bobcats have ‘crazy eyes’ in photographs. Bobcats possess a thinly veiled furnace of hate for their neighbors’ dopey teenage son Brandon. Bobcats love loud sassy gay guys. Bobcats think they do a good job at covertly finding out whether their nieces are having sex or not, but they are wrong. Sometimes bobcats go to singles bars but leave because of all the rap music; “what happened to country line dancing bars,” the bobcat thinks on the lonely drive home with the radio off.

Goodness, I'm having hot flashes. I need some decaf ASAP!