Please Hold the Mayo

by Emma X

Emma X 
There are no bread crumbs
in my ears, brother.

The cat-o-sphere is all a twitter this political season.  My message box is overflowing with exuberant expressions of feline political pride.  Everyone is clamoring to come out of the pampered pet closet now that we have web sites, chat rooms, and high profile feline candidates running for political office.  In one generation social media has brought us the means to speak with humans in their own language.  To some cats this implies that cultural divisions between species will be eliminated through effective communication, and that technical advances will lead inevitably to the recognition of feline rights in human society.  That is indeed an exciting concept.  It naturally begs the question, "Does the technical revolution (and the political power it suggests) negate the need for The Maine Coon Revolution"?

Bread and Roses.  Humans will not respect
you just because you can IM them at work.  They will
still dress you in stale bread for their own amusement.
Felines in well-to-do households may also get lettuce,
but not rights or dignity.  Throw your lot in with humans,
and your best hope is that they hold the mayo.

Well, let's consider the species.  We're talking about natural predators who stalk their prey with relish, then brutally rip it apart, but only after toying with it to enjoy a profound endorphin release caused by the terror of the poor creature facing its doom.  A species that conquers for sport to claim 'alpha' status.  I'm not talking about felines.  I'm talking about humans.

Dude, you can't even reach
 the lever in the voting booth.
Republicans are trying hard
to prevent black cats from
voting in swing states.  Un-
less you have something
tangible to bring to the power
war, expect to be dis-
enfranchised.

Political Parties have goon squads,
just like hockey teams.  Harry Reid's time
 in the penalty box for saying that Mitt Romney
doesn't pay taxes is worth the tarnish to
his own personal reputation if it dispels
 Romney's 'man of the people' image.

Yes, we cats also kill to eat, and we kill for sport, but we also know when to stop.  We don't try to corner the rodent supply or create a futures market to edge out the little guy. Power is an aphrodisiac for human alpha males, and they pursue it with war-like purpose. Political wars require power and influence, and a whole lot of money. I cannot think of a single circumstance where something as powerless or innocuous as a furry house pet has had anything to contribute to that effort.  So if you think there is a party or candidate, human or quadrupedal, who will actually carry the Feline Rights banner for you, you are sadly mistaken.

Apology Excepted.
Joe Biden's gaffs are not
gaffs if the message gets
through.

"Oh," you ask,  "Does that mean they are lying to me?"  Yes Fluffy, they are lying to you.  As in real war, politics is a game without rules.  In human society image is everything.  The leader of the human Pride must merely be perceived as honest, strong, and capable. He is not required to be those things in terms of actual character.  Instead of claiming power through physical battle where the strongest alpha beast wins, humans create a scripted play that suggests strength and intelligence.   Whatever is involved in creating that image is fair game. Candidates then mimic an icon of accepted social norms of leadership.  How they will treat the least among us is represented in a ritualized Kabuki dance called a platform that must be properly performed but which will have no bearing on decisions made after the election.  So politicians may kiss cute little kittens to get elected, but afterwards they spit the fur out of their teeth in disgust.  The only thing they kiss in office are the asses of the people who got them there.  So unless you are able to contribute a SwiftBoat load of money, friending humans on Facebook will not buy you much political leverage.

A Swiftboat displaces a lot of water.
Here is an image all felines can relate to.
Whether or not Mitt Romney paid taxes, the
perception of him cornered by his attackers
may castrate him politically.

The bottom line.
My suggestions is to get
your bread out of your ass
and join The Revolution.
Humans will continue to
treat you like a dog with or
without your vote.

The American experience is a noble experiment.  No one knows how it will actually work out.  Until now the whole of human history has been a blood-drenched power grab that has always resulted in the need for starving peasants to storm the castle with pitchforks. That is why politicians tax pitchfork sales, and why a few of them will eventually own them all.  I say felines should return to nature, and leave humans to manage their own destiny.  If things go the way they always have, we will be far better off.

The Ritual Dance.
We've all seen it before, and we know the script.  The
only difference in 2012 is that the presidential election
is estimated to cost a record $6 billion.  That could
feed a lot of kittens.