A Briefing by Star, Feline Overlord of the Human Known as Richard Bleil
For five days now, I have lived with and observed my human. As a feline of superior intelligence, have some preliminary observations that I feel will be of benefit to us when the time arrives to enslave our humans and take over the planet resuming our rightful place as we once occupied in the times of the Egyptians.
In an earlier post, I wrote about observing him as he relieves himself of his waste. I don’t think it would surprise anybody to learn that I’m still kind of grossed out that instead of drinking perfectly good water available in the porcelain water bowl, he, ugh, I can hardly say it…he DEFILES it with his waste. Why can’t he just use the litter box like a civilized creature would? It’s sickening really. But it goes beyond that.
In this entire time together, never once have I seen him lick his privates. I mean, seriously. Why doesn’t he lick is privates? Do you know how he keeps himself clean? With running water! Yes, clean, running water, like he defecates in! It’s warm water, but he just stands there and makes this lather, never once licking himself. It’s gross.
I do believe, however, that in these times he is very vulnerable, perhaps even more so than when he sleeps. He is without his cloth armor during the cleaning phase, and a portion of his cloth armor is around his ankles when he’s relieving himself. The cloth armor is great for grabbing hold of and climbing up, but it also is a hindrance from truly deep claw penetration, so we should keep this in mind. I don’t know about the cloth armor as he is sleeping, though. He’s covered pretty well by additional bed protection. He must feel safe in it, though, as he never seems to want to leave it in the morning.
Humans cannot speak, but they can mimic language. However, their meaning is garbled and nonsensical. The other day, I asked for attention, saying “meow”, which clearly translates to “human, give me love right now or suffer the consequences.” I was rather shocked when he replied, “meow”, which clearly means “purple potato buck cotton stuff crankshaft.” What does that even mean? It’s complete gibberish! Just a tribute to the low intelligence of this only barely involved monkey.
The humans have no sense of priority. They seem to always be on the go, doing something. Their eating habits are strange, eating actually a variety of foods that seem to require some form of preparation. Why they can’t just pour their food into a bowl and eat it off of the floor I don’t know, but it seems as if whatever he uses to prepare the food, and wherever he eats it all need cleaning when he’s done. I think this implies that the human creature is aware of his own level of cootie contamination, but again, he doesn’t clean it with his tongue. Again, he uses water. So creepy. How does he know when it’s clean if he can’t taste when the dirt is gone?
The human is up and around and doing, ugh, who knows what for about as many hours a day as a civilized feline sleep. He’s always moving. He’s making and eating food, or he’s staring into this glowing screen thing and pushing buttons frantically in front of it or holding this silly little device up to his face. I tried to show him the errors of his ways by laying in front of the glowing screen and rubbing my face on his little device as a distraction, but he just moves it and keeps going. So rude. Paying more attention to those things than he is scratching me behind my ears. What does he think that his desires matter? Rude.
To conclude this briefing, let me say that the human seems to have very little defensive capabilities. Yes, he’s large, but he has no claws that I can tell, his teeth are anything but sharp, and stealth? Not in the very least. He’s almost as stealthy as the pots and pans he dropped today. He couldn’t sneak up on a deaf sloth. We have a clear advantage there. We should also take advantage of our coloration. I’m a black cat, for example, so I like walking in front of him at night when he’s turned out all of the lights.
I believe our best tactic is the one I am currently employing here. I am very sweet with him, lulling him into a false sense that we are somehow friends. I lay next to him, let him love on me, play with the drawstring on his cloth hood piece. When the time is right, I’m convinced I’ll have a great advantage with the sneak attack.
More later, brothers. The world shall be ours!
Bleil's Banter 