Towels, taunts and targets
Cat, ever the opportunist pounced on the chance for a put-down that I’d given him in this moment of careless candor.
“So, Phoebe, why not try out this variation on a bit of folk wisdom:
If you don’t have anything to say, then don't say it!
“How would you like a roll of paper towels aimed at what passes for a feline brain, (the essence of an oxymoron)?” I said.
“I knew you were going to bring that up,” Cat said. "The Trump Bashers are always sweating the small stuff. You criticize him for ignoring disaster victims; then jump all over him him when he tries to cheer them up."
“Hurling paper towels at Puerto Ricans who've managed to survive a monster hurricane absolutely shows Trump’s concept of “perfect pitch” when it comes to presidential compassion,” I said, hoping Cat would catch the pun.
But Cat was in no mood for wordplay.
“Seems to me that paper towels were just right,” Cat said. “After a storm like that, a good way to start the clean-up. Very utilitarian.”
“People in Puerto Rico STILL don’t have enough drinking water, still don’t have enough food, still don’t have electricity in many places, still aren’t sure how many are sick or injured or dying,” I said. “And here you have the alleged leader of the free world playing ‘Catch the Garter?’ ”
“Like the president told the father of his press secretary, Susan Huckabee Sanders, last weekend on TV, winging some towels at the Puerto Ricans was just what they wanted:
They had these beautiful, soft towels. Very good towels…. I was having fun; they were having fun.
“And Father Mike came right back at Trump with this zinger:
You were a rock star.’ "
“KIND OF OLD NEWS, Phoebe,” said Cat. “I actually thought you were going to say something about the “Moron” thing ….”
“You mean the “Fucking Moron” thing,” I said. “I guess Secretary Rex has learned a thing or two about the language of diplomacy, at least when it comes to describing his boss.”
"Also," I said," 'moron' is kind of unacceptable language."
“So is World War III,” Cat said.
I'VE GOT TO GIVE the Over-the-Hill Furball some credit here.
Cat’s been fixated for a while now on Trump’s planet-ending vision of how to handle the North Korean nuclear threat.
Goading Crazy Kim into considering some tangible targets, rather than just firing off practice rounds - and thereby giving President F. Moron an excuse to do what’s he’s been itching to do - that's what's on Cat's mind these days.
And I get it. I do.
Still, Cat wanted to know why I cannot seem to sort the
“Why are you so fixated on paper towels instead of ICBMs?” Cat demanded.
“Because it’s easier than thinking about what you’re thinking about,” I said.
“Speaking of which, Cat," I said, "in the event of a nuclear holocaust, have you come up with something better to do than wait it out under the chairs on the back deck?”
“Duck-&-Cover still seems to me to be the survival strategy of choice, at least at the civilian level,” Cat said.
“Maybe I could get you a roll or two of paper towels to help mop up afterwards,” I suggested.
“Appreciate that,” Cat said.
"By the way," he said, getting back to our original conversation, "Why do you persist in saying stuff about Trump, when, by your own admission, you don’t have much of anything fresh to say?"
So I told him:
Because, it’s better to say something, rather than just to say nothing.
“That and a roll of paper towels will get you what?” Cat asked.
With that, he jumped onto the living room couch and curled into a ball half his usual size. Both his eyelids slammed shut so hard I thought I could hear an actual thud.