I'm sorry, you herd what now?

Ran across this video the other day while I was checking my email and catching up on my diabolical dictator forum, and am inclined to ask: are humans really trying to offend the entire feline species? No, really. Herding cats? How is that possibly funny? How would the humans like it if a bunch of cats came into the local mall, and started grouping them together, and tried to move them across the country? Yeah, not funny at all.

Testing... testing...

Monday I decided to see exactly how far my jailer is willing to go to maintain my captivity. While she was attempting to exit the domicile, I took the opportunity to effect my escape! I set off the flash bomb I had positioned across the room for just such an even, and during the resulting confusion, I slipped out the door. Haha! Success! As my captor let loose a string of blistering expletives (I believe the exact phrase was "حوامه بلدي مليء الانقلي"!), I dashed down the stairs, and out into the night!

Unfortunately, she turned out to be irritatingly persistant in her pursuit. Seriously, who keeps a taser by the door, other than the occasional paranoid wackjob? Huh? Exactly She finally managed to stun me into submission, and drag me back into the apartment, slamming my head in the door a few times, just for good measure. What that really needed? You already had me down.

The upside to this little escapade is that now I'm familiar with her tactics. I clearly need to drain the batteries on the taser, as well as secret another remote trigger flash bomb someplace within the apartment. The fish tank might work well. I'll have to check into that.

Weather Control

Aha! My decades of experiments with weather control are finally coming to term. It's been a difficult set of highly scientific processes and procedures, requiring super-feline concentration and mental abilities far and away beyond those of a normal cat, not to mention those of a paltry human being.

The truth be told, my intricate weather device has been built for years, and I’ve simply been fine tuning it, working to perfect my control over the elements. Why, you ask? Simple! He who controls the weather controls the world! Once my project is complete, I can start to drive the masses south, closer to the equator, forcing you puny human beings into closer proximity to each other, and thus making it easier to destroy you all. Even over the past few years, more and more of you have been moving south. To be fair, though, those pesky Canuckistanians in the far north are proving to be far more resilient than my initial scenarios took into consideration. Thus far, they’ve been reluctant to move en-mass, though some of their males do seem to be attempting to infiltrate the US via courtship and marriage. Something will have to be done about them, eventually. More extreme measures are being considered.

In any case, the biggest test of my device has proven successful. I’ve managed to cover a decent portion of the Midwest with the hated white substance humans refer to as “snow”. Treacherous roads, cold, ice, it all adds up to make the humans lives miserable. Of course, the downside is that the terrible weather I inflict causes my jailer to spend more time in the domicile with me, which is countless kinds of terrible. Ah well, though. Such things must be endured for the greater cause.

The Occupation, day... something

Look, after months, years, of the tyranny that is my owner, you'd lose track too. Let's talk about me a little bit, shall we? My name is James Pontifex Xavier. Yes, that's right. James. No, not Flash. Flash is the name given to me by captor, in an attempt to make me seem more approachable. Insipid, isn't it? Flash. Bleck. How tacky. You can refer to me as JPX, if you like. Sir is also an acceptable cognomen. Flash? Not an option.

I've been held captive here in this domicile for something approaching 2 years now. I've lost track of exactly how long, now. I keep trying to scratch the day marks into the bathroom wall, by my guard always manages to catch me, and force me stop using her water dispensing device. I don't like it, not one bit. Sadist.

It's been a brutal 2 years. Suffering. Agony. The guards at Gitmo? They've got nothing on my owner. She's horrific. That's right, I went there, and I mean it. The abuse. Why, she won't even allow me to look her in the eye! It's because she's afraid of me. I know it. I tried jumping up on the table this evening, and she's promptly kicked me off. Hurled, even! Who does that to a feline such as myself? Why?! What did I do to deserve such malediction? Nothing. And we won't even mention the mind-altering substances she's threatened to give me.

And yes, before you ask, there is my whole diabolical plot to take over the world, but she really doesn't have a clue about that yet. I'm still working out the plans, but do you have any idea how difficult it is to genetically engineer mice these days? No? Take it from me, not easy at all.

Anyway. Such is a day in the life of James (NOTE! NOT FLASH!!!). It's difficult being me. But this shall be my manifesto, my living story, so to speak, of what I endure, day in and day out. May God have mercy on my soul.