It’s Caturday!

This Caturday is brought to you by Zoe soaking up some of the final open-window days.

She really knows where the warm spots are. Whether near a window, on the floor near the downstairs neighbors duct work, or draped across her mama under her sweatshirt.

I had a bit of a moment this morning. Since we don’t always get a good dog or cat submission, maybe we change the whole thing to “Caturdog” or “Cat or Dog.”

Anybody out there have a response or opinion?


Where did you get that t-shirt?


Earlier this week, I was running the lake front. I was wearing a t-shirt I bought in Cambodia. It has three elephants on the front and the word, “CAMBODIA” printed on the back in 300 pt font.

I notice most everyone passing me in either direction, and one guy was a brown Asian on a bike. Brown from daily sun, I would guess.

About five or ten minutes later, I look to my left, and there’s the man on the bike riding right next to me. His mouth is moving and he’s smiling. I can’t hear him, because I’ve got earphones in.

I look at him for a long second. What ran through my mind is his asshole was asking for money. I let him sweat it for a moment or two, but he seemed determined.

I pulled out my earphone and left it to dangle.

“How did you find, Cambodia?” the man said.

“Oh, yeah, gosh, it was great,” I said panting. I kept running. It was my 8-mile day. And this guy wasn’t going to change that. “Are you Cambodian?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. The little guy was at a seminar in Indiana, and he took a three-day trip to Chicago.

I asked him how his visit was, and he said, “I don’t know, this is my first day.”

A quick glance around showed that it was a gorgeous day and the city was soaking up beautiful warm sunlight. He obviously didn’t know that visually you can already make a judgement.

We talked for about a quarter of a mile before he finally said, “Okay, thanks for talking to me.” And we parted ways.

Oddly enough, when I wear my Cambodia t-shirt, I often wonder why more people don’t stop me to ask. I mean, who goes to Cambodia?

Not many people, right?

Gosh, I want to travel. Come on guys. Let’s go somewhere where they sell t-shirts with exotic names on the back.



No, little Jimmy, I said the whipped cream on the middle knee …

Nothing says, “I live for Jesus” like licking whipped cream off your priest’s kneecaps.

I love how my Catholic friends on Facebook get all pompous about Obama and his immorality.

And then pictures of priests having children get on their hands and knees to lick whipped cream off his knees.

That’s appropriate, don’t you think?

The morally corrupt people are who?

More of the story here.