The pussy is still dead.

12 Nov

I lied this morning when I said I didn’t have the energy to get passionately angry about anything today. I am still very much snotting all over the place, my nose is redder than Rudolph’s bell-end, and my throat feels as if I’ve swallowed an over zealous cactus. Yet, something has ignited the rage within me. And that “something”, is dead meat. Literally.

Some of you may have read my little rant a few days ago, about the deceased cat that was clogging up my Facebook feed – or rather, the deceased cat’s mentally stunted owner. I thought that, having gotten it all off my chest, and with the cat in question being dead, that this whole sorry state of affairs would clear itself up and I wouldn’t have to read the utter gob shite status updates for much longer.

HOW WRONG I WAS. It is a week later and you may like to know that, whilst the cat is still dead, the owner’s enthusiasm for shitting all over Facebook, unfortunately, is not.

“Let’s all donate to animal charity this month.” Errrr.. let’s NOT.

“Mummy misses you so much.” Sorry – last time I checked, the owner in question still had the remnants of a human brain and wasn’t a FUCKING CAT.

A comment from a friend: “I lost my cat too, I hope they have found each other in heaven and are special friends now.” I kid you not, I couldn’t make this shit up.

Maybe it’s just me and my cold, bitter, unsympathetic negligence for furry beings. Or maybe I haven’t lost my brains just yet and still have a grasp of sanity. Answers on a postcard please, because unless I’ve missed something, and animals have now started having funerals at which there is a wake that I can get pissed at, I’m starting to worry that I may not be normal.

I rest my case: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LhIK8ZW0Gpk

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