On this blog, we regularly discuss ways in which we aspire to be more like the cats. They are our swamis, our sherpas, our saints and our scholars. Except when they most decidedly are not.
If I were to hold public office, my first act would be to end war and redirect every battle-dollar to feeding everyone of every species, preferably at the same table, whilst we all sing ballads and talk tenderly about our edifying differences. My second act would be to mandate that we all use the word […]
We’ve come to the end. We’ve come to the beginning. We’ve come to the moment that sends us backward and forward like spiritual seesaws.
Each New Year, the only resolution I resolve myself to is to never make a resolution. Resolutions suck. Harsh, I know, and I’m sorry for that. But, it has to be said.
I am aware of at least four definitions of “hurdy gurdy.” (Perhaps you are aware of more. Let’s talk.) A hand-cranked medieval string instrument Madness, chaos, and/or generalized cattywampus, topsy-turvy, hurly-burly bedlam Tabby’s Place (see #2) Life as a mortal being Obviously, all four of these meanings pertain to one Verde Rosenberg.*
Tabby’s Place maintains a variety of “behavior logs.” If you are a cat, these are not the place you want to be. No, that’s not right. If you are a cat, these are exactly where you aspire to be.
Henry Louis Gates, Jr. is a marvel of historical proportions. In each episode of his PBS series Finding Your Roots, Gates opens windows of insight into missing stories in his guests’ family trees. Sometimes, what remains undiscovered is the most compelling aspect of the program. A fun throw in to the show, whenever luck or […]
I don’t believe in luck. Or coincidences. Or the existence of bad cats, bad people, bad Mumford and Sons songs, or good vegan cheese.
Be it known that November 2020 has come, November 2020 has gone, November 2020 will not be back again. You and me and the cats, though? We’re still here.