Saturday, July 01, 2006

Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em.

Did you ever hear somebody say "A rose by any other name smells the same"??? Jett says it all the time, but I don't have any idea what it means. Then I found out some guy by the name of Shakespeare wrote that. He wrote a whole lot of stuff. Most of it is equally vague. I have therefore taken the liberty of improving upon it. Here's a sample:

To be, or not to be? What kind of asshole would ask that question?
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
Sitting through the movie Outrageous Fortune,
Or to take arms against a bunch of sea turtles.
And with no opposing thumbs, no less. To snack: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say it’s bedtime
The heart-ache of the thousand natural matts
That cat hair is heir to, 'tis like constipation and
you wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy. Trust me on this.
To snack, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
Can you scratch me between the ears please?
For in that sleep or nap what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off to buffalo,
Must give us paws: there's the respect
That makes calamity of nine lives;
For who would bear the pigeons and squirrels of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, whatever the hell that means
The pangs of puppy love, no heavy petting today,
The insolence of otters and those funny little fuzzy sea monkeys too.
That patient merit of the unworthy flakes,
When he himself might us breakfast make
With a bare bottom? who would feed us bare,
To grunt and sweat under a faux fur blanket,
But that the dread of those poor faux after death,
The undiscover'd parmesian islands from whose frompfoof trees
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather raise awareness of their plight
Than use our frequent flier miles to see other places that we know not of?
Thus a good nap does make us all very comfy cozy;
And a nice cheesecake fills the belly. Or some soft baked anchovy cookies now!
Oh fair Uncle Trabis, in thy kitchens Be all my snacks remember'd.

Love,
Figaro

3 Comments:

Blogger Bev Sykes said...

Figaro, you are a brilliant writer.

9:18 AM  
Anonymous Travis said...

Bev,

And he's CUTE too. I always like to refer to the cuteness factor. :)

Travis

4:40 PM  
Blogger ^..^ Figaro & Jett ^..^ said...

Oh, Bev. Bev. Oh, and Uncle Travis too. Tank you. Tank you. Wherefore art thou and when shall we three meet again? Hath not a cat claws? All the world's a stage and I am fortune's fool. My words fly up. Blow, blow thou Winter windbag and be not afraid of greatness. Let every eye negotiate for itself that I am the cutest kind of all.
What more can I say? They don't call me the bard of Oxnard on Fulton for nothing.
Love,
Figaro
P.S. Alas, poor Oreck is a lousy vacuum cleaner.

7:37 AM  

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