Turkey Help Line

I've been researching the label "blonde," which you humans slap onto various and sundry people, and have come to the conclusion that this must be the term used when the I.Q. rates so low it's marked as a negative number on the chart.

In my studies, I came across a record of last year's Turkey Help Line, aired on a local radio station. A woman actually called in to report that her chihuaha had jumped inside the cavity of her bird and lodged itself so tightly that she could not remove it. Need I say more?

The intelligence of your race astounds me!

Regarding Death

A woman recently said, "I can watch the movies and TV all the time and see people dying and getting shot and stuff and it doesn't bother me, but if I see an animal die, I cry!"

I never realized how similar people can be to creatures of the Superior Race. Go sista! Knock your fellow humans' heads off and parrrrtay! I'll don my black veil and join you at your feline's funeral. Together, we'll close the ivory lid of her non biodegradable self-vaulting casket, enshrining her in pink satiny peace; sprinkle the first fistfuls of soil onto her eternal resting place; and kiss her quartz memorial with roses of sweet remembrance while Emil Thorpe croons "On Eagle's Wings" in vibratous tenor tones. 

I'll walk you to your limo and help serve cookies and cocktails when we arrive at the house, where guests await in doleful numbers. Beside you all the way, I'll hand out Kleenex by the dozens as melancholy mourners offer sorry condolances and overwhelmingly bountiful cases of Ludiomil. Finally, when the last relative has walked out the door and the memory books have been closed, I'll pat your back with soothing "Now, now"s until you drift into somber slumber.  

You may want to build your kitty's insurance now, so you'll be fully prepared to give honorable tribute when the ominous day is at hand. If you need help making...*gulp*...I struggle to say it...burial arrangements, don't hesitate to make use of the following online parlours: http://www.petrest.com/caskets.html; http://www.qualitypetcaskets.com/Page2.html. I'm sure they'll be most sympathetic to your needs in your time of tragic loss.

Oh, and don't worry about repaying my favor by attending my mother's funeral. She only got smashed, squashed, and dismembered by a malicious teenager taking his souped up Lamborghini Murcielago for a spin. I'm not too concerned about it. I hardly shed a tear.

Saving Face with Ulterior Motives

So. There are a million people in this world who don't know a thing about me. Not that I want them to know anything about me. But it seems that whoever ends up discovering my measly existence does so through unreliable means, which are blinded to my virtues and ill-equipped to accurately depict my exceptional being.

Therefore, I have created this blog. 

Not only will this reveal my finer qualities, it will also supply me with useful research for a study I'm compiling. Once I've gathered enough information, I hope to turn the results into a heavy resource book, which will be forbidden out of libraries and which people will be required to wear soft white gloves in order to handle. It will be respectfully titled: Humans: What Does go on in Their Feeble Little Brains? An Intellectual Analysis of What We Thought to be a Baser Intelligence but are Perhaps Mistaken. I'm sure you all will be more than happy to oblige me in supplying the data necessary for such a complex and extensive volume.

I will be blunt in stating that I have mixed feelings about beginning this endeavor--blogging and all that. But, alas, we must take pains for research and repute.