"Uh huh, and is that when you lost your arms?"

Welcome Future Minions. I have a cat. I have seen my cat eat, in no particular order and not all at the same time, salsa, snow peas, yogurt, fig newtons, various assorted crawling and flying bugs (including a really big daddy longlegs and a paper wasp), dust bunnies, cinnamon sugar tortilla chips, and her own puke. Anyone who has a cat can tell you that cat food is stinky. Stinky like old socks stuffed with older herring. And yet, I just saw a commercial for Chicken Florentine cat food. With a light sauce and fresh greens that my cat will love. No she won't. She will either ignore it completely or wolf it down and "h...hhh...hhhrk...hhrrrrkkkkk...hhrreeeeekkk" puke it back up. Maybe I'd have more luck with a Wild Salmon and Whipped Egg Souffle. Know what I had for dinner tonight? Frosted Flakes. What's next? Cat silverware? I would like to meet the man who tries that one. "We're here today with Bob "Tic Tac Toe" Jenkins. Bob, what's your story?" "Well, Chip, I got this idea that my cat should use a fork to eat her Chicken Florentine. It has garden greens and a light sauce. But she kept dropping the fork, so I got out the duct tape..." "Uh huh, and is that when you lost your arms?" "Yes. About halfway through the attack." Cats are already pretty well armed. I don't think teaching them to use weapons is a good idea. Before we know it, our future progeny will be living on a planet run by cats. Cats would live a life of absolute leisure, sleeping when and where they like, eating when they want, crapping wherever they want, secure in the knowledge that their smelly naked monkey slaves will prepare their meals, remove their excrement, bow to their every whim and fancy--hey...