I know it's no longer November, and therefore, I no longer have to post every single day, but I kinda can't stop. It's addictive, forcing myself to completely shut down any/all self-censorship and just frickin' post.
I also cannot stop looking at Lolcats. I do not know what is worse -- that they make me laugh or that I can go through 20 pages of photos in the space of 15 minutes.
If James Joyce were alive today, his next book would be written in Lolcat. Iz funn to think lik kitteh.
Strangely, the rules of Lolcat are consistent enough that even a minor violation (a caption that says "pwease" instead of "pleez") sticks out like a sore thumb. Cats may have terrible spelling and in their eagerness, they may cut grammatical corners, but they don't lisp and they don't drop consonants.
In a related vein, I am haunted by the Chik-Fil-A commercial with parachuting cows. It's not just that the cows learned to parachute ... I mean, how did they get the parachute rigs on in the first place? Or find rigs that would fit them? And despite the absence of thumbs, they were also able to write the words "Eat Mor Chikin" on the parachutes.
And yet, through all of this, the cows never learned how to spell the words "More" and "Chicken"? Doesn't it seem like either of those things would have come up? You go to all the trouble to parachute into a football game and you don't even bother to spellcheck your parachute?
Maybe that's why your kind ends up in Happy Meals. Ever think of that, Bessie?
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