Where hab all my caddle garn?
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Guest Post by the Smoothman
Having been officially designated Personal Interim Manager of Don Estorbo's Estate and Assets, I regret to inform you all that I am not at liberty to disclose confidential factors, including but not limited to, the nature of these assets, their value, investment strategy or rate of return, nor can I reveal the identity of key partners without a signed agreement and waiver of feline and human liability.
I can and will say that Estorbo and I have been meeting twice daily to discuss his practical and economic goals, establish a budget, design a safety net, set aside a treat-and-goodies spending bucket, investigate specific market portfolios, verify his health insurance coverage, map out his retirement plan, draft a will and review his nap time and litter box results.
It is not always easy. The kitty, I mean, He, comes from a ghetto bodega. He grew up with nothing. His recent status and success are only the consequence of relentless hard work, dedication to blogging and the occasional bribe. But there are many complex concepts he still struggles to grasp.
He is driven, however, and insists on studying the lives of his greatest idols, the late Steve Jobs, early President Obama, Señor Coconut and Bagheera the Panther to name a few. "Success leaves clues," he says. "I will be the Sherlock cat of my generation and you can be my Dr. Watson." He is hoping to be selected for a talk on TED. He already has a topic. "How I survived the unattractive grey box and created a Paypal account in 15 minutes."
So he grows more and more concerned about finances. For instance this morning, he was asking about investing. I tried to explain things in simple terms and street-smart pictures.
"Money in your pocket," I said, "is always the quickest to go. Think of it as the pellets already in your bowl. A great sight, a good feeling but the next thing you know they are gone and you are still chewing."
He nodded and purred a bit.
"Then," I continued, "there is your bank account. Money there is safer, as the effort to reach it is greater. It will last longer and allows you to plan ahead."
He was listening carefully, having perked up at the mention of something lasting longer.
"So the bank is like your bag of Wellness-Indoor Health pellets under the kitchen sink," I added.
I stroked him under the chin for a while. No, this is not me sucking up to the big boss, it's part of symbiotic business relationship.
"Finally, there are investments. These are the tricky kind. They are volatile, subject to market moods and they can turn against you like a raccoon backed up in a corner."
Estorbo's both ears were now standing straight. He once had a violent encounter with a raccoon and to this day, the outcome remains unclear.
"Investments would be the pellets you spit out when you eat too fast and which roll out of sight under a ledge or the carpet, and are left there to prosper or rot. You forget about them for a while and might some day have a wonderful surprise, or a big disappointment."
"So what happens when I get sick or throw up a fur ball?" he asked to conclude the briefing.
"That," I said, "is a Stock Market crash. You thought you were wise, secretly liquidating your furry assets, and then bang, something goes wrong, the whole thing blows up in your face and all your pellets shoot out!"
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Photo: the Smoothman
My blord tes' came bag goo'! My typhus lebels are where they should be, afthair I taghe higher dose drorgs...****!
I mos' carnteenue to taghe the forgheen' peells dayeen, dayoud. Was THREE veds loogheen' ad me. My gard.
Y guess whad: I was keess' THREE time arn the head, by Dr. Slade. He ees audacious. I howl, I growl, I seeng, bod I deed nard bide. (I theenk.)
Eben though the Smoothman taghe my personal pee een my personal bee bartle afthair he eenterfere weeth me een my leedhair tray (I moss steel call 311 por thees eenbasion), the bed, I mean ved, eenseest arn "sterile" sample. Por favor. Does he nard know the Smoothman ees Canadian? How sterile can a person ged?
Eep. I hade the urine sample (smallboice).
An' eed was cole' een Nuevo York today, man, freezeen'. My onnatracteeb grey barx ees bentiladed!
Gracias to my ved ad VERG por treadeen' me weeth respeghd. You rarck. I nebber say thad abou' no bed, I mean, bed (sheet), ved, before. Ebber. Yos neghs' time maybe doan' squeeze me so moch, OK?
Wheech remine' me:
***! OK: WHO knew the peells wor een my forgheen' YOGUR'????? WHO?
Friday, January 13, 2012
Manana I go the ved.* Een the onnatracteeb grey barx.
They taghe my blord pressure. They taghe my blord. They taghe my pee eef
Meanwhile. Where the forgh ees weenthair? Las' time thees year I was een igloo.
*Hombre. My ved wrode to me arn Fazeboogh (ees my Frien'!) - I yam een trouble:
"Dear Estorbo -
As much as I enjoy reading your blog posts, please try to find some time to pull yourself away from typing (pawing?) to have a recheck. I don't like that you are always thirsty and we need to check your typhus and your keedney levels to make sure that you are on your right dose of medications. Make the Smoothman take you in if the Wooman is still away.
I'm sorry to nag. It's because I love."
Beeg question: weell Dr.Slade KEESS ME, lighe he deed las' time (he tell me ees nard PR, ees because he lorb aneemals)??? You can bode arn sidebar'.
Friday, January 6, 2012
My segretary ees workeen' arn my thank you car's por donations. She ees slow. Now she has ron oud ob the cars an' needs to by new worns. Bod they are made by worn lady een Cape Town who does nard lighe to peeck orp the phone. Y no email. Ees har', ees berber har'. Bod the fors car's are mail' today. We try, we try.
Photos: the Smoothman
I yam so esstateec I pass oud.
Arribe een enbelope frarm South Afreeca sormtheen' deleecious. Call Beell Tarngue. I doan' know who Beell ees (was, I theenk) or why they do thees to hees tarngue bod eed ees berberberberber' deleecious. I go crazee. I ead y I porr ad the same time. I grab the empty bag oud ob the trash. Dios mio nebber een my libe hab I tasted sometheen' lighe thees.
Happy happy joy joy.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Peecture: The Smoothman
The Smooothman has been defeaded! I now refuse to ead the peell een a tread or een pate, so he as' the Wooman to essplain how she geeb me peell ole' fashion' way. So she essplain:
"Bag the cad orp so his bag is agains' your legs so he cannar' reberse.
Weeth lef' hand frarm below gently pry cad's mouth open weeth thormb y meedle feenger.
Weeth right han' parp the peell een.
Weeth lef' han' queeckly close' the cad's mouth.
Stroghe cad teell he swallow."
No. Way. Jo. Se.
The Smoothman wride bag:
"I yam afraid to breagh the cad. He woan' open hees mouth."
Estorbo 1, Smoothman Zero.
I ged no more peells. Eenstead, I ged nice helpeen's ob peach yogur', twice a day, 12 hours apar'. The recipe mos' be a leedle deefferen' because eed tasdes a beed more asserteeb. Bod ad las' I yab trained the Yooman.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
I yab started the Nuevo Year as I mean to carnteenue - I washed. Thees ees porque my forr ees lookeen' floffy.
The Smoothman ees now my official portraid artees' y I yab made eed muy clear to heem thad eef he wan' me to pose' he need to geeb eencenteeb. Lighe treads. OK - the Wooman as' por peeeeeeectures ob me? She blame lag ob peectures arn you y she maghe you loogh bad? You wan' to eempress hor y maghe hor lorb you more? Yes? OK. How moch ees eed worth to you? One tread? I doan' theenk so, bordee! Show me the bag. Thad's bedhair. OK - shoot. No, thad ees nard my goo' side. Thees way. Are you sure the ligh' ees righ'? Doan' maghe me loogh fad. OK -
...shoul' we do sorm nudes to show to my ved Dr Slade neghs' weegh? I yam feelleen' arteesteec:
Pour me sorm meelk.