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We all deal with the stress of this political season in different ways. Riley, for instance, copes by taking bong hits off Mary’s running shoes:
“I am so baked right now…”
While Moondoggie passes the time by getting himself into one wacky sitcom predicament after another:
“Oh. Hi. I didn’t see you — what? Your cable’s out? Well now that’s odd…”
kyute kiddeez.
appropos of nothing here, but, in Entertainment News That Really Sucks, I found out that Paul Newman passed away.
I know, Bill. I did a brief post about this amazing man over to my place. Broke my heart. He was a bit before my time in his heartthrob days, but he was still a sharp as a tack, all the way to the end, and those blue eyes never stopped melting hearts.
But the main reason that I admired & respected him is how he dedicated his LIFE to helping others. How many people can really say that? That their lives added up to a major PLUS for the planet? I sure as hell can’t. Paul Newman was an individual, never let them turn him into any “demographic pull” or nail him down to one “audience,” he was no marketer’s tool. He was his own man, and a damned good one at that.
I generally don’t give a flying frog fuck about what celebrity fucks what wannabe, or vice-versa et al., but that man was damned lucky in that department, and he never once forgot that. If he hadn’t shared his life with Joanne Woodward, he probably would still have been a damned good guy, but he wouldn’t have been the SAME guy. I can’t imagine the heartbreak that she is enduring right now; they are one of those very rare couples that make marriage look like a good idea (even if it isn’t), because they were EQUALS, partners in the truest sense of the word, and they really truly valued that, and each other.
If you get the chance, read Newman’s books about the building of Newman’s Own and his charitable foundations. Wry, wit drier than a desert, self-effacing smart-assedness, and general common-sense wisdom that showed how big his heart truly was.
If more people in this world tried to be more like Paul Newman and less like the narcissistic starlet/harlot-of-the-week/man-whore of the week, then the creative arts might actually be worthy of TRUE respect, instead of paparazzi scum.
As always, Scott, your kittehs are gorgeous, hysterically funny, and spoiled-rotten adorable. I thought that MY cats were the only stinky-shoe fetishists… Is that how cats get high, when the catnip runs low? ‘Cause I know that the THC in catnip doesn’t kick-in for them until they’re at least a couple years old, but my two fat spoiled brats have been foot/shoe freaks SINCE BIRTH. When they were just tiny little balls of feral fur, they’d dive-in, head-first into The Boy’s size-14 gunboats, and stay in there until they were UNCONSCIOUS from the fumes.
To this day, when I go to put my Sha-Shaas on, Boy (the cat, not the whore ex) still FIGHTS ME for the damned shoes! I have to wrestle a 20-lb. cat for the right to wear my own fuckin’ shoes. We have passed through the looking-glass, Alice.
Something to say?
Moondoggie is so pwned!
Left by Slywy on September 27th, 2008