Epilogues: May 2025
There is only one month of the year that makes a philosophical statement simply by existing: “May.” Fortunately, one hundred percent of cats make philosophical statements simply by existing.
There is only one month of the year that makes a philosophical statement simply by existing: “May.” Fortunately, one hundred percent of cats make philosophical statements simply by existing.
Hang around Tabby’s Place, and you’ll hear peculiar things. “I need to squeeze six bladders before lunch.” “Half a salamander was found in Solarium B.” “We have a hostage situation in the back hallway. Hazey has the entire Junior Honor Society cornered. Negotiations have failed.” But there are three words you will never hear at […]
February was not fully perfect. Cases in point: Something has gone horribly wrong with all the butter in Canada. Elvira is no longer ours for the hugging. Daft Punk has broken up. Additional case in point, pointedly true every month: our collective sanity has broken up (HA HA HA I MADE A FUNNY! “COLLECTIVE SANITY” […]
Is it any wonder that every culture has a flood story? Of course not! Every aeon or so, there are these SUPER MASSIVE, LANDSCAPE CHANGING FLOODS OF EPIC PROPORTIONS. On a smaller scale, tsunamis and storm surges overwhelm coastal regions, bringing map-update-worthy changes of their own.
There are different kinds of tired and myriad ways to describe all of those kinds of tired. Whole body shaking, exhausted to the point of dropping, bone weary, flat out, done in, worn out, fatigued.
Oh August, sweet little August, you are young yet, and tender. Yet as you grow, we have a request for you. On behalf of every individual of every species on every continent, subcontinent and islet: please be kind.
We try to keep it real on this blog. That said, if you ever hear me utter the words “I’m keepin’ it real,” please take me gently by the hand and take me to a quiet room where you can apply duct tape to my mouth (preferably glitter duct tape).