Bats Attack!!!!

Well, as the single digit temps descended over Iowa, the bat problem is striking again. And again, it is the terrorists' favorite target, the Hoyt Sherman Place. This old mansion seems to be a clearinghouse of nooks and crannies for bats to hide out. And every now and then, they take a few flights in front of the motion detectors, which means I get called to go see what the hell is going on. As usual, I call up my supervisor and make him go there with me. The place is too creepy at night to not have someone there to hold your hand.

This time, we get there, I turn off the alarm system, and no sooner than I hit the lights in the lobby area, the winged terrorist comes flying at us, unleashing the possibility of a rabies-laden attack upon the Mookist general, and his compadre. It's time to go to work eliminating these terrorist sumbitches. Last night,, we were armed with the most primitive of weaponry, the dreaded orange cones (think traffic cones). We finally convinced this monstrous and EFFING HUGE bat to roost in his normal terrorist-trained upside down position at the top of a door across the room. I wheeled around to the left with my cone and my GI Joe-like ninja skills avoiding the bats detection, while my supervisor Casey held the middle ground to the entry vestibule in check. A quick toss, and BAT DOWN, BAT DOWN!!! We placed the cone over him, and I moved to go write up the alarm response sheet at a nearby desk. The bat was sliding underneath the cone towards the door he had previously hung from, trying to escape underneath the locked door that I did not possess a key for. WE stopped him as he was 3/4 of the way through in his backstroke maneuver to freedom. The next step was to fully retrieve the little rat faced bastard from underneath the door. Ever cautious of possible rabies infections from bites or scratches, we searched for something to get a grip on the terrorist and bring him back into the light and under our guard. (The next moment gets a bit gruesome, so weak stomached people stop reading here, and go to your happy place.)

Casey did NOT hand me his pocketknife, and I did NOT use it to stab the winged terrorist in a pinning hold to drag him out. Right after we did NOT do those things, I hear Casey yell out some unsavory words, and mentioned something about another bat. Apparently our NOT piercing the first terrorists skin did NOT release pheromones and a rescue signal to his terrorist partner, who then began to dive bomb us all over the lobby. We placed a nicely weighted bucket over Bat #1, grabbed our cones, and proceeded to go after the 2nd insurgent. After a few strafing runs, the 2nd bat went up the stairwell to the main theater entry hall, strafed us a couple more times, then went up another level, where we lost him in the dark.

We were both disappointed in that result. 1- We enjoy the bat calls, as they are one of the most exciting, and scary moments on the job. 2- We don't necessarily want to be called back if another bat sets off the alarm system, which takes time away from our other duties. And 3- Losing a live terrorist only serves to degradate our reputation as elite rentacops turned combat commandos.

Surely we will be back again, as these winged marauders will start trouble again, trying to dissuade us of our nightly missions, and cause us to give up and go home, allowing the terrorists to claim victory over rentacops and more notably, the Mookist forces. WE will never EVER give in to these terrorists if it takes our entire lifetime to rid our alarm response accounts of these rabies-harboring little (and sometimes not so little) rat-faced bastards. WE intend to NOT kill them all, because killing them would be considered illegal, depending on the species anyways, and I'm no bat-ologist (yes this is a technical term meaning studier of bats), so I can't tell which ones are fair game or not. All I'm saying is if they just happen to have sudden cardiac arrest at the exact moment they tangle with us, well, that's either God or Darwin speaking.

Thanksgiving Message From The Colonel

From the Desk Of Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell:


So today we all gather together and give thanks for all that is good in our lives. Well, most of us. The majority of those living in the Mookified Compound have set out, meanwhile I'm stuck here guarding the compound with the General. That stupid idiot put out self pity messages complaining about only getting to eat a turkey pot pie for the holiday. Meanwhile, I get dry cat food...just like every other damn day of the year. The General may well find himself the victim of my combatives training later on today after he heats that pot pie up, then I can enjoy some delicious turkey meat. I'll let him try the cat food and tehn he can realize just how thankful he can be.

Personally, I'd be more thankful if I was President Obama. He pardoned that turkey, Courage, so that he can live out his days in Disney World. If I were El Presidente, that turkey would be dead, and I'd be burping feathers right about now. Who has time for cooking the bird when you can take him down right away and enjoy a nice meal without the wait?

But overall I'm thankful for my home. Its nice and warm here. And unlike my previous assignment guarding a garage with all my brothers and sisters where its cold, I can lounge about all I want. And, after making the general escort me to my mess hall, I can eat. With a belly full of food, I can return to napping, or shred everything in this apartment. It's great, because the General gets all mad, and yet, can't do a damn thing about it. I'm grateful that his rank doesn't come with any real power over me. Hell, that punk used to be a major. Once I made Colonel, he promoted himself to General just to not be outranked by me. How sad is that. Yeah, way to go Mr Top of the Food Chain!

So today, as you all give thanks for your food and football games, and begrudging your family your time, I shall be staking out the deck, looking for some fresh flying food, and maybe a nice squirrel or two. Little bastards run rampant around here, but I'm gonna get them one of these days.

So, you be sure and thank me for serving my duties here and suffering through dry cat food, while you're all safe and secure this holiday. As a cat and a colonel both, I DESERVE your damn appreciation for all I do for you. My mere existence should please you to no end. But if any one of you sonsabitches tries to pet me...I'll kill you.

Enjoy your day.

Sincerely,
Colonel B.S. Lovell
Mookified Feline Division, Commanding

Colonel Plans a Coup!

From the Desk of the Enlightened and Immortal General Mook, Supreme Commander of All He Surveys:

It's a new official title. Those who fear their own death through conspiracy often act irrationally. However, since it is me talking, my irrationality becomes rational. Most leaders who fear their being overthrown will act in one of two ways. They will either enhance their powers and eliminate threats through executive orders (up to an including the assassination of key figures), or they will recess into their own world of denial and reclusiveness. I however, being unique (the world is thankful for this) and special (think propeller beanie special) have chosen neither route. I have decided to document the conspiracy in case of an untimely demise, and of course use the occasion to bolster my already unnecessarily large ego. For yes, if I am to be the victim of a whacking, it only signifies just how important I must be.

Thus far, the Colonel has been somewhat passive in his undermining my authority. Forced marches to the food dish, sticking a claw into my lip to wake me up so that I let him out of the bedroom, and occasional attack training with my hands and arms. his "training exercises" have become much more frequent as of late. I'm sure he'll pounce any day now, once he feels he knows all my moves.

Lately however, he has become a bit more irritating. Standing watch from the east observation post (kids' bedroom window), everytime I come home from working out I sense he is taking notes on my activities. Not to be a better executive officer, but merely to gauge how it will all go down in the end. Whenever I come home from work, and just before I leave for work, he is exceptionally squirrelly. He runs back and forth erratically, with a mixture of some sort of low growl, yowl and meowing. It's a rather unnerving sound.

He has also engaged in random, but more frequent, intimate behavior. He will climb onto my lap as I sit here at the computer, and multiple times while I sprawl on the couch watching a game or a movie. He maneuvers his head in a way to encourage more petting. And sometimes now, he has even taken to laying on my bed with me. He seems to be irritated should I make any movement that might disturb his very particular feline decision on how to lay about.

Other times, I awake to see him on my dresser in front of the window. Not looking out the window, but staring me down. As if to say to my barely awake eyes, "I could've killed you in your sleep, but that would be too easy."

The Colonel uses my boots as a place to rub his face against from time to time. I suspect at some point he will just sidle up to them and pee in them just prior to me leaving for work.

Someone once said, "Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer."

I suspect the Colonel has taken this to heart and is attempting to buddy up to me, in hopes that I let my guard down. I'm not falling for it. Not even for a minute. But I won't let on that I know what he's up to.

The Colonel may be under some sort of Feline Derangement Syndrome if he even thinks he'll have my seat of power around here. He may have my wife fooled, but sooner or later, once she realizes that the cat really is going to try to kill me she will be an ally of mine that he won't want to reckon with. He can take my skin, but he ain't getting my girl. He may attempt to counter an attack against her flank, but that isn't the wisest move in the world. She'll boot his fat cat butt to the moon in a heartbeat.

I'm sure he'll try to be slicker than that though. He's currently posted up looking out over the deck. A terrrorist squirrel is flaunting his mobility outside, which only taunts the Colonel into a foul mood. I'm fine with this of course. Whenever he is in one of those moods, he can't concentrate on his plans for me.

Which is all the better. No need to enable his portraying Brutus to my Julius Caesar! "Et tu, Kittykat?"

Update From The Colonel- July2009

Early on 03July2009, General Mook and his support staff (aka "the family") left the Mookified Compound for a period of nearly two weeks. I suspect it was political in nature, as the General is secretly petrified of dealing with the hard issues. As the only senior officer left, I was charged with providing security for the entire compound. With only periodic and minimal resupply from Captain Stew's Mobile Support Platoon during this time, my training would be put to the test. Lacking the General's presence, surely the enemy would come full charge.

Daytime incursions proved few and far between, allowing for some rest between combat patrols and operations. Nighttime however was a different story altogether. Unmanned aerial drones (the military jingo for "flies") had strafed and reconnoitered the compound on multiple occasions, keeping my forces unnerved and on edge. Rules of engagement were strict in that we were not allowed to counter anything other than direct attacks. The night of the "friendly fire incident" occurring was only an inevitable matter of time.

An unidentified personnel entered The Compound without prior notfication coming into our comm station. As he breached the perimeter, in the dark I only made out the silhouette of an intruder. I was the only one on guard duty at the time as our current threat level was listed as low. I had made the approach to the breach point too quickly, and the intruder stumbled over me, injuring my front paw. Not thinking of the Purple Heart that I would be rewarded, my true valor and combat soldier instincts came to the surface. With my cat-like reflexes, I used a jiu-jitsu leg sweep to take down our invader. My standard weapons not on hand I was forced to resort to hand to hand combat. I quickly pounced on my enemy assailant, climbing my way up the length of his body to finish him off. I began to apply the judo ear bite, but before I cinched in the finishing death blow, my good paw felt a slight difference in his ear. Recognizing this telltale sign of identification, I released the intruder.

Captain Stew, like most rear echelon brass, thought he was doing me a favor by showing up unnanounced with intentions of fresh chow. I had to explain to him (also read: chew his ass) the reason for protocol deeming forwarding communication prior to arrival. He was visibly shaken from his brush with certain death at my hands, but a good dressing down was definitely in order. Next time he'll know that he better arrive AFTER letting me know, or he may not be so lucky...

You've Got To Be Kidding Me

I just finished reading an article in NewsMax, concerning Al Franken's run for Senate in Minnesota. Apparently, including amongst democrats and according to Representative Betty McCollum, a huge number of constituents have shown very grave concern over an interview Franken did with Playboy 8 years ago, over the internet and porn. While I do not politically agree with Al Franken, and I find some of his humor to be crude, I also find him funny. (mostly as a comedian and satirist, but sometimes politically as well)

"Al understands, and the people of Minnesota understand, the difference between what a satirist does and what a senator does," Franken campaign spokesman Andy Barr said. "It's unfortunate that she's trying to create divisions in our party rather than working with other DFLers (Minnesota Democrats) to take on the special-interest senator."

I have to agree with Mr. Barr on this issue. Was Jack Kennedy's supposed lovelife brought up as the issue of the day when he ran for office? Was Eisenhower excoriated for his involvement in the persuading then President Truman over the issue of using Atomic weapons against Japan? Was Ronald Reagan vetted over some lines he used in a movie?

The Democrats of the 90s wished to make little issue of Clinton's in-office rendevouz, AS IT HAPPENED! But now they want to make issue of something a COMEDIAN said 8 years ago, for his job and livelihood, when it has nothing to do with his current occupational aspirations?

I just can't wrap my head around this. It's okay to condone a very real act, plaster it all over tv, radio, the INTERNET, where any kid could access all the information on it at any time of day, but apparently it is off limits for a guy to joke about it:

At one point in the Playboy piece titled "Porn-O-Rama!" Franken called the Internet a "terrific learning tool," writing that his 12-year-old son was able to use it for a sixth-grade report on bestiality.

Sure it's crude and lacks a bit in taste depending on your personal preference, but to be akin to ruining your political career for life....I just don't understand these democrats who are suddenly taking issue with it. And to be fair, I don't really get why NewsMax, a conservative corporation, is bothering to publish this useless news. I mean I DO get it, 24/7 opportunities to find anything to help the conservative political cause, but the entire basis is ludicrous from the get go.

When I was a teenager, I listened to hardcore Rap music, pretended to live teh lifestyle I knew nothing about, glorifying it to boot. I guess I'd better not ever try to seek office of any kind...this might all come back to bite me, via concerned current members of public office and all of their VERY concerned constituents who just can't believe it. Oh, and I stole Graham Crackers after not eating my supper on more than one occasion. Label me a homegrown terrorist, and use my deeds to discredit anyone who ever knew me while you're at it.....give me a break.

If that's all they have on Al Franken, as a party I say drop it and move on to the truly important issues.

To read the entire article: http://www.newsmax.com/insidecover/franken_playboy/2008/05/29/100040.html?s=al&promo_code=635B-1