No, I am never going to approve a comment that uses the words McSame/Failin’ or any other comment that contains no insights, no actual commentary, no intelligence, and is nothing but an illiterate, uneducated Rethuglicans are eeeeeeeevil! sentiment.

And for the record, schmucks, I’m not a Republican. I’m an independent.

Go read Treacher.

Just scroll down and keep on scrolling.

Jim, you should be wearing a short skirt and carrying pom-poms. You’re making me think that the election isn’t over yet.

I meant to do this yesterday, but I was rather busy.

First, we have Miss Gracie, in a very revealing pose, proving that cats know everything, and they just pretend they don’t understand what we want them to do.

Really, you want to know what she’s laughing at.

Next, Mr. Tig has a chew toy. That’s because he’s teething. In fact, all of my male cats have liked to chew hard substances. My first Tig liked to chew on wire hangers. My second Tig chewed on those as well, or on any hard plastic he could find. This Tig will chew on everything. And I discovered that pet stores now acknowledge that cats need chew toys, too: This is marketed as an actual cat chew toy, though it’s just a smaller version of a dog chew toy that I may get him if he gets through this. (He destroyed his beanie bunny, leaving thousands of plastic beads all over my office, which is why he now has a proper chew toy.)

Tig turned eight months old yesterday. He’s over ten pounds now, and stands more than two feet high on his hind legs when he stretches out. He’s going to be a very big boy.