Thoughts . . .
Question: What is the truest definition of Globalisation?
Answer: Princess Diana's death.
Answer: An English princess with an Egyptian boyfriend crashes
in a French tunnel, driving a German car with a Dutch engine,
driven by a Belgian who was drunk on Scottish whiskey, followed
closely by Italian paparazzi on Japanese motorcycles, treated
by an American doctor, using Brazilian medicines!
And this was sent by an Armenian, using Bill Gates' technology,
and was downloaded from one of the IBM clones that use Taiwanese-made
chips and a Korean-made monitor, assembled by Bangladeshi
workers in a Singapore plant, transported by lorries driven
by Indians, hijacked by Indonesians, unloaded by Sicilian
longshoremen, trucked by Mexican illegals and finally sold
That, my friend, is Globalisation!
From A Cat's Diary
DAY 752 -- My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre
little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat,
while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that
keeps me going is the hope of escape and the mild satisfaction
I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow
I may eat another houseplant.
761 -- Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around
their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must
try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust
and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced
myself to vomit on their favourite chair...must try this
on their bed.
762 -- Slept all day so that I could annoy my captors with
sleep depriving, incessant pleas for food at ungodly hours
of the night.
765 -- Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless
body, in attempt to make them aware of what I am capable
of and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only
cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was...Hmmm.
Not working according to plan.
768 -- I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For
no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This
time however it included a burning foamy chemical called
"shampoo". What sick minds could invent such a
liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still
stuck between my teeth.
771 -- There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices.
I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However,
I could hear the noise and smell the foul odour of the glass
tubes they call "beer". More importantly I overheard
that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies".
Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.
774 -- I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and
maybe snitches. The Dog is routinely released and seems
more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The
Bird on the other hand has got to be an informant. He has
mastered their frightful tongue (something akin to mole
speak) and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports
my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal
room his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a
matter of time...