CATS DON'T FETCH

Why is it that cats don't take any nonsense from anybody?

You could pick a dog up by his tail. And when you put him down (unless he's a pit bull) he'll wag his tail and lick your face. Cats have no tolerance for such idiocy. It seems they were born with disdain for humans and other creatures that might be seeking favors.

You may have noticed there are no bomb-sniffing or drug-sniffing cats.

Screw that shit! Cats will not herd sheep or any other shaggy animals. And no cat will ever help blind people find their way in the world. As for learning tricks around the house, get serious.

"Roll over, Tabby."

"Sure, buddy. Whenever I'm obsessed with the urge to please and make you proud, I'll give it a shot."

So far as we know, cats can't talk. But they speak volumes with a regal look or a withering glance. It's all in the attitude. I can hear some house cat laying down the rules for his new owner.

"Let's get one thing straight, Buster. I sleep, I purr, I dig my claws into your lap, I rub against your leg when I want something. And occasionally, I'll drop a dead bird on your foot."

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ASKING FOR HER HAND

When a man proposes to a woman, why does he ask for her hand in marriage? Certainly there are more interesting body parts. And indeed more essential ones if you plan to go on a honeymoon.

How did this custom get started? Did some proper behavior maven decide that it would be gauche to ask for the whole person?

Did some dippy focus group, with no expertise and few credentials, run through a list of other areas and arbitrarily rule them out?

Let's see … one could ask for her shoulder in marriage. How about her back, her wrist, her elbow, leg, ankle, nose, heel, toe, neck, thigh, breast.

"Sir, I've fallen deeply in love with your daughter and I'm asking for her ass in marriage."

Suddenly the hand is making a lot of sense.

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IF YOU HAVE ANY FRIENDS AT ALL, SHARE THIS WITH THEM.

LASSIE, MY ASS

I hate to bust your bubble, my friend, but Lassie was a male collie.

I don't know why the Hollywood picture people didn't cast a female dog or change the name to Laddie. But they didn't, and chose instead to bamboozle us with their gender spin.

While doing some research, I found that the original Lassie was named Pal. And that a shrewd dog trainer had bought him for ten bucks. Which would make it one of the best deals Hollywood ever made.

As you know, it spawned a mess of sequels, a radio program, and a TV show that lasted so long you could barely stand it.

"Lassie, here girl … come on, girl!"

I wonder if they told little Timmy the truth.

Or was little Timmy old enough to figure out that Lassie-- no matter how maternal he seemed or how many people he rescued from wells, caves, and other dangerous locations—WAS NEVER GOING TO HAVE PUPPIES!

And where was Liz Taylor when the original Lassie movie was being foisted on the public? I always liked Liz and saw her as a stand-up gal. Yet she knew she was involved in a national hoax, and did nothing to expose it.

Come to think of it, one thing does make perfect sense. I now realize why nobody ever asked Lassie to roll over.

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SUITS THAT DON"T FIT

I'm sick of greedy pricks that sue for moronic reasons and get away with it. Apparently ethics and common sense are on the way out. Victim status is a hot button and oily lawyers are cashing in on it.

A New York man was mutilated when he jumped in front of a subway train. He sued and got $650,000 because the train that he jumped in front of couldn't stop in time.

And why do juries hand out millions of dollars to litigious creeps who smoke 4 packs of cigarettes a day for 30 years, get lung cancer, and then sue the tobacco company?

Now I hate tobacco companies just as much as the next guy. But whatever happened to personal responsibility for committing stupid acts on a daily basis? Wait, I'm just getting started.

Two burly gentlemen (read two boobs) strapped refrigerators to their backs and then lumbered along in an ungainly manner to see who was the fastest. One of the boobs, who injured his lower back, sued the refrigerator maker.

His lawyer argued that the warranty said nothing about racing down the street with a refrigerator.

An enterprising young thief from Los Angeles sued the driver of a Honda Accord for running over his hand. He received $74,000 and medical expenses. The young man claimed he never noticed there was someone sitting in the driver's seat when he was attempting to remove the hubcaps.

A woman from Texas sued a furniture store after breaking her ankle. It seems she tripped over a bratty youngster running around wildly inside the store. Even though the child was her son, she was awarded $780,000 for her pain and suffering.

Any decent instincts to remain responsible for our own deeds are being trampled by those who accept no responsibility whatsoever. Where are those crazy villagers with torches when you need them?

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FED UP

Women are always asking men if they've eaten.

It doesn't matter if they've known the guy for a month or a decade. They're going to ask. Do they think we forget if we're not reminded?

"Come to think of it, I haven't had a bite in a week. Good thing you said something, honey."

Men will never ask a woman if she's eaten. Either we don't give a crap, or we assume she's bright enough to figure it out for herself.

And a woman's curiosity about a man's eating patterns knows no limits.

After she learns whether you've eaten, what you ate, where you ate, whom you ate with, and exactly what you discussed while you were eating-- she may inquire how your food was prepared. It wasn't fried, was it?

Some will even ask if you took all your vitamins. Or pills, if you happen to fall into the senior category.

You could be 90 years old, and your wife or girlfriend will still want a complete dossier on your ridiculous eating habits.

And if she doesn't think your meals were balanced or organic, or don't contain enough fiber, fish oils, antioxidants, leafy greens, or whatever the hell else the current health trends are -- you could be scolded and sent to your room.

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COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT

"No one else has complained about that, sir." Let's say you've just lost a goddamn quarter in a goddamn phone in the lobby of a goddamn movie theatre. You complain to the manager. He says you're the first one to mention it.

What's that supposed to mean? That the phone really does work, but I'm not using it properly? He may even ask if I put in a quarter and waited for the dial tone.

"No, actually I just shouted into the phone and nobody shouted back."

Another scenario puts you at the counter of a coffee shop where, along with your hash and eggs, you've ordered a glass of skim milk to offset your unhealthy choice of hash and eggs.

Your skim milk is severely sour and you attempt to return it. Only to learn that everyone else drank the skim milk without a fuss.

Or maybe you phone a store to remind them that the fan you ordered 2 months ago, when it was still hot and muggy, never arrived. And the clerk says, "Who did you speak to?" like that's going to solve the problem.

I told him I spoke to Ernie. "Oh, you should have spoken to Ed or Steve. Ernie isn't very reliable, likes to leave early, and has some issues with taking orders."

You waste your breath by saying, "Well then, just fire his ass and let the reliable ones answer the phone."

Apparently in the "Employees vs. Customers" handbook—there is no mention of the customer always being right. Based on my experience, it probably reads more like this.

The customer is always wrong about everything. So don't take him seriously. He's an idiot. Even if he gets upset and yells, he'll be back. No matter where else he goes, he won't be treated any better for one simple reason.

Everybody who deals with the public is reading from this same handbook.

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