Deep Thoughts . . .

Globalisation
Question: What is the truest definition of Globalisation?
Answer: Princess Diana's death.
Question: Why?
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 by Jews.
That, my friend, is Globalisation!

Excerpts 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.

DAY 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.

DAY 762 -- Slept all day so that I could annoy my captors with sleep depriving, incessant pleas for food at ungodly hours of the night.

DAY 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.

DAY 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.

DAY 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.

DAY 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...