Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Dear Sullivan, 5

"I'm Sullivan!"

Matt said something about "blog called on account of snow and work." This is because Matt does not love you readers. I do. I think he likes snow more than you. I don't. You should revolt against him, for he is The Man. I am The Cat. Not The Cat in The Hat, just The Cat. I don't wear hats because my ears go up and they are uncomfortable. Besides, I have fur to keep me warm. I don't need hats.


Our first letter is from a reader in Transylvania. Well, I think that is the case, because they are dealing with blood suckers.

Sullivan, I am currently being sued by an employee for an unsafe work environment. My lawyer thinks I have a strong case and should continue with to trial, but I think I should settle. How do I know what I should do?

Human laws cannot constrain us. Do they think it is easy to balance precariously on bookshelves and hide on stairs while they walk down them? Humans have it easy; if you're making his life more dangerous, kudos. Danger is excitement; humans love excitement. Why do you think they watch scary movies about explosions and outrunning fireballs? They crave excitement; a dangerous workplace makes their heart beat faster and makes them feel alive. The others involved in your case are after your money. You, however, have no use for money, employees or lawyers. Tell them that you are going to meet to talk about your options, then, instead of showing up at the cafe or wherever their human interests take them, go to the park and become an outside cat. Outside cats have fun, exciting lives filled with not having to deal with humans or their loud, nap-interrupting televisions. If I were not a stuffed cat, I'd be an outside cat because outside cats never get chided for not doing their filing or sitting with their paws in the way of the TV screen when all we wanted was to be loved. WHY WON'T YOU LOVE US!?

Sullivan, Do you realize that these letters are from people? Cats can't write, and none of these problems seem like they would come from a cat. Your advice is terrible for people and will only leave them unhappy.

My advice is amazing and has left people satisfied, much like my tuba playing. Tuba playing is not being used euphemistically either. I am first chair in the Orcatstra. Now, let's analyze some of our reader's complaints because I aim to deliver high customer satisfaction. First, let's ask: Why would people write to a stuffed cat? That's silly. I don't ask dogs, may they rot forever, for advice. Species seek out their own kind. Now, some may say these alleged not-cats  aren't writing to me. But, all the letters start with Sullivan, don't they? Now, you might say I scratch out Matt's name and put down my own. You would be right, but the spirit of the thing is still there. Next, cats have complex problems that need assistance. Why do you think we have a whisperer? Humans don't have whisperers. Horses? Dogs? Also complicated creatures with delicate hearts and precious souls. Well not so much dogs; burn in hell canis familiaris. As to the last point: I write. I'm a cat. Ipso Cato, you are big stupid head. My advice to you is to not write such stupid things. Cats don't write such stupid things, so maybe this is a letter from a people. A people who doesn't realize that they just wrote a letter to a stuffed cat. Point: Sullivan.

That's all the time I have for today. I need to go; Mrs. Sullivan the Cat needs to take me to tuba practice today. She said: "Young man, if you are late I will tan your hide so much it matches some of your fur." I said: "Aw, mom." That's really all I said. Point: Mrs. Sullivan the Cat.

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