An early take on blogging among those with an acceptable level of intelligence, was that it italicized a great schism present within society. On one side stood people, and on the other, mere characters. The former enjoyed full command of social skills, successfully copulated at least once in a while, and generally lived a life that would make trench coat mafia types cry. The latter on the other hand, were a rather pallid caste who used the Internet as a means of compensating for their various social deficiencies and decided uncoolness.
This was certainly true in my own circles. The blogger types were laughed off. Enlightened discourse, intelligent debate, even marginally interesting thoughts, these were not to be found in the daily timelines of stay at home moms.
motherof4kidz162 had her first cup of coffee at 6:23. Her morning ended with a shaved turkey breast sandwich just prior to 12:00, and I don't give a fuck. Nor do I care about the army of newly empowered teenagers hurling their misspelled philosophical musings into the digital ether, dispensing their "poetry", having the answers, boring me to death.
Us kings and queens of the mailing lists, the forums, we had no desire for the domestically mundane. We actively shunned the unfledged cheapness inherent in the self-absorbed scribblings of the bleeding teenage heart.
Then the Interwebs grew up. And what had once been a locus of the inconsequential, the world of blogs, well it filled out nicely with curves in many of the right places.
Today there are many excellent writers and interesting thinkers blogging the shit out of themselves. The good stuff is no longer confined to the usual arenas. Yet there is still a perception among some (which I have only recently gotten over myself) that blogging is institutionalized mediocrity at its finest, with only a few exceptions. And so to eagerly extend a couple of trigger happy middle fingers toward the holders of that notion, I shall blog about my sister's cat. And in subsequent posts, thoughts on the merits of blogging will be rather conspicuously missing.
The cat has been placed in my care for a period of several weeks. I have one, maybe two more to go. This is fine. She's cute, cuddly. Docile when you need her to be, wild when you want her to be. But she's in heat right now, and as far as I can tell, horny as a nun. Her incessant purring has taken on an overtly carnal tone. It sounds the way that human eyes look when they belong to people about to get it on.
It actually makes me uncomfortable. And when she rolls and undulates her slinky body around my feet I find myself wishing that her gonads were not intact. This rings especially true every time she plants the front of her body into the floor but keeps her back legs standing, sticking her arse up in the air and assuming the position.
Then again, if she wasn't going through oestrus I wouldn't be so proud of myself for coming up with a "catty style" witticism that continues to make me smile.
Gonads win. For now.
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