Let the record show that 120 cats and one Development Director have a violent loathing for the song “At Seventeen.” Love is most definitely not reserved for beauty queens, or cartoon princesses, or anyone other than everyone. Including one generous gent. Actually, two.
The world is weeping. Our brothers and sisters are shuddering in subways, crawling across borders, bearing their children and their grandparents and their ragged animals on their backs. Are we supposed to bask in jolly cat happenings at such a time as this?
January hath given, and January hath taken away. January hath given us Zebra Cake ice cream, and January hath taken away all remaining laughable attempts by our species to appear dignified. January hath taken away our queen Betty White (and our gentle jester Louie Anderson, and our soaring bard Meat Loaf), and January hath given […]