ConstantCommentary® Vol. XII, No. 191, December 21, 2011

So Sue Me . . .

by Mike Jasper

Back to basics in 2012

First things first: Happy New Year.

Second things next—lately, I’ve tried to expand your horizons, but you just won't have it.

I write about Rick Perry being gay, and even confess that he was gay with me, but do ConstantCommentary readers respond? Nooooooo. God knows we don’t want anything political to ruin our buzz.

The worst part? I didn't even get the reward money from Larry Flynt for taking it up the yactaba. I guess he wants proof or something. Here's hoping the next time I'm bleeding from my ass I have the presence of mind to take photos.

What else? Oh, right. I also wrote about the continuing crisis at Penn State aka the great 21st Century pedophile cover-up, and that turned out...

Okay, it really wasn't very funny at all, but like the Rick Perry story it did have some purpose behind it, even though I swear I never really aim for that.

But brilliance happens, as genius has no off switch, although whiskey can put it on hold indefinitely.

Whatever. I've learned my lesson. I really don’t know what I was thinking, given that I’ve met several of you personally in bars from Austin to LA to Seattle, then back down to Florida, then up again to Canada (you know, we really need a better tour schedule next time out) and I’ve come to know the limitations of your attention span. Those limitations are not unlike mine, frankly.

With whatever-the-hell-I-just-wrote in mind, this column will be getting back to basics, or as I like to call it, the Three Ps—pussy, puns and profanity.

So let me tell you about my fucking pussycat. (I told you I could get all three Ps into one sentence, Steve—you owe me 50 bucks.)

Her name is Murphy. (Yes, yes, I'm actually going to write about my cat. That's just what you people deserve.Yes, yes, I just said you people.)

I found her on the front lawn of my house, where she just walked right up and started snuggling my arms. She’s a cute furry ball of a green-eyed Siamese, crossed eyes and all.

She must have been abandoned, I guess, because besides being friendly to humans, she's also turned out to be fully house broken. That means she pees in the kitty litter box and nowhere else, just like I do most Friday nights.

Murphy also chases balls, plans attacks on stuffed toy mice, meows at the top of her lungs, reads the Sunday paper cover to cover, and I'm teaching her to do my taxes. In other words, unlike your cat, she's special.

So why do I bring her up? Because now that we've reached the end of 2011, I look back and realize that finding my cat was the best thing that happened all year. She's sitting on my lap as I write this. Now she jumped on my desk. Now she jumped on the speaker on my desk. Now she's tap dancing.

Yep, Murphy the cat is the best thing to happen all year long. The rest of 2011, however, can suck my fucking balls.

Bring on 2012. Even if the Mayans were right and the world comes to a fiery end, it’s still bound to be better than 2011.

Can I get an amen?

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STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This column aims to be funny. If you can read anything else into it, you're on your own.