Disaster Kitty Showcase: Sinkhole Kitty

Sinkhole Kitty

Like a weasel with a taste for juicy, slow-moving grubs, its appetite for buried cable is never satiated. Is quite bitter about the overwhelming amount of press given to Gulf of Woe Disaster Kitty.

America is a Fancy Feast for Chaos

Are you surprised? I’m not. The signs have been there for a long time. FEMA can’t solve this problem. The president and his advisors? Completely ineffectual. And if you think this kind of thing can be solved at the state level—whom are you kidding? You're as helpless as a baby mesmerized by a dangling shiny object. Or a dangling baby.
Face facts. The tsunamis, earthquakes, floods, and other “acts of God” are not caused by God, or “Mother Earth,” “global warming,” or any other origins your pseudo-scientific-Judeo-Hippie mumbo jumbo belief systems can come up with. Disaster kitty is dried up? A media distraction. It's time that we acknowledge our helplessness against these unvanquishable forces that are threatening to destroy Earth, our only home.

Molten, Face-Melting Rock Disaster Kitty
“Volcanic chain hot spots” my ass. See how the lava is beckoned from the caldera with a simple gesture!



Down with America Disaster Kitty
This one loves to destroy Montessori schools, frozen hand-held luncheon pie manufacturing plants, flat-state shopping malls, and other institutions that make our country great.



Shocking Losses Disaster Kitty
Pitting shareholders and environmentalists against each other and watching them claw each other’s eyes out is one of its greatest joys.



Gulf of Woe Disaster Kitty
Swimming in circles at lightning speed, it whips up a furious, frothy whirl of deadly ocean like a tiger wearing pants.



Think this is a new phenomenon? Records in the Los Angeles historical archives will prove you wrong. It’s no coincidence that the last century’s California floods happened around the same time that the Midwest ran out of sand.



The best way to spend our last days would be to eat lots and lots of pie.

Pigeon morning

Look little mossy deathbed, the pinebox sycamore soul does not quit. I had a temporary appointment, I kept it, I took a left, and then. And then.

Electricians shut off power. Rain goes straight down, and sometimes sideways. Night makes it dark, and dark makes it dark. So sometimes you sleep, and sometimes you wake, and in between you walk, and sit, and stand, and push out your chest and, your head down, you crave that good lovin’.

From dirty gray branches the spring pushed a thousand green heads, and the hummingbird every morning this week has finely chopped the air like grinding coffee. You’re a dinosaur. No, you’re the dinosaur.

Nothing sticks out into the courtyard. What was it? Maybe a zippity flash from a frayed wire, zippity. Oh, my neck hurts. I hurt all over.

Yesterday I found a half a chicken sandwich. Chicken and I, we are good friends. Some days you’ll see us sitting on grass. Sometimes rain goes straight down, and sometimes sideways. Now, just let me rest here a moment. Just let me rest here.