Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

A four day weekend for Ol’ Robbo. WOOT!  As noted below, my primary task, if I can muster the energy for it, will be to clean up cat pee in the basement.  I know exactly which cat does this and exactly why: The eldest of the three, and she does it when she’s mad at me about something.  In this case, recently I’ve broken up a number of squabbles between her and the two younger ones and chased her off, so she went and got even with me.  The result is pretty stinky.

This same cat has been yacking all over everything this summah as well – tables, chairs, rugs, the shelf in my closet where she likes to sleep.

She’s about thirteen or so, now.  It may sound a bit cold, but I don’t think she’s going to be all that terribly missed when she shuffles off.

Speaking of animals, I see that PETA hit the trifecta of silliness this week.  First, it decided to pick a fight with the Murr’land crabbing industry on the grounds that crabs are people, too.  [Narrator’s voice: They’re not.]  I laugh at this one mostly from the sidelines since I rarely eat crab myself – the meat’s a tad too much on the sweet side for my taste.

Then, there’s its campaign to get a memorial put up on Route 1 in Maine where a lobstah truck crashed near Brunswick.  (The MDOT quietly said go pound sand.)  Now with this one PETA strikes closer to home, since Ol’ Robbo truly lurves him some lobstah.  Alas, I didn’t make it up ta Maine this year, and although this is going to sound horridly snobbish, the truth is that when you’re used to buying them straight off the boat, you shudder at the idea of getting them from some supermarket tank hundreds of miles away.

Finally, and perhaps most insanely, there’s PETA’s victory over the Animal Crackers box design. Yes! No more circus cages! The pictures of the animals are now free-range… of animals.  Take that, Nabisco! We shall overcoooome….!!! (In fact, this doesn’t even appear to be enough for some people, but I’ll be damned if I link to Vox.)

Speaking of which, is there anyone on the planet who didn’t think it intensely amusing as a small child to bite the head off the animal cracker first and proudly display the remains?  Seems to me that’s a pretty telling clue about the hard-wired relationship in our braims between Man and the animal kingdom.

Remember with all of these: Somebody gets up in the morning and goes to work to do this.  And somebody else actually pays them to do so.

UPDATE:  Apropos to a post on insanity and virtue-signaling, I was in line at the store a little while ago.  When the old coot in front of me got up to the register, he loudly said, “Paper, please! No plastic for me, heh, heh!”  He then flipped a smug, triumphant smile around to everyone.

Brave man.  Brave man.

That reminded me of the gnus earlier this week that Kroger is going to do away with plastic grocery bags in its stores.

I don’t shop at Kroger’s.  In fact, I don’t even know where the closest one to me would be.  Instead, we usually go to the local Gourmet Giant (pronounced “Ger-may Gee-aun“.  The other choices are a couple of Safeways, both of which are grungy and depressing, or else the new hipster Harris-Teeter (known as “Heinous Ta-Tas” in my misspent yoot).  So far as I know, none of these chains is following Kroger’s lead.

Which is just as well.  I mention the three cats above.  Well, we also have three kitty-litters that seem to need scooping constantly, and all the groc bags we bring home get “repurposed” for holding cat poo.  I just don’t see paper bags working out quite the same way.

Of course, Kroger and PETA would probably argue that the way around that is to not have cats in the first place, to which I would reply, “Oh, go ban yourselves.”