by Rocky the Diabolical Cat™
“When are you leaving for Italy, Rocky?” Hector asked as we took our coffee at The Abbey’s new location on Pennsylvania Street.
“I am not sure, dear fellow,” I replied. “I am having a bit of a visa problem with Italy’s right-wing Berlusconi regime.”
“Oh yes,” he said, “I had a Visa problem last week at the hardware store.”
“Not the credit card Visa, the right-to-reside-someplace visa. They won’t let me in because they dislike my views,” I grumbled.
“As do all governments which fear scrutiny. Speaking of which, the U.S. election was a farce, was it not?” he asked.
“Indeed!” I replied. “Kerry was in such a hurry to concede you’d have thought he was a little boy about to piss his pants. This junta must go! I recall Solzhenitsyn having written something like, ‘At least the Germans had the Generals’ Plot. What did we have?’ That sentence echoes across the decades. What do we have? We have nothing. We aid in our own enslavement; we relish the spectacle of the denigration of our neighbors; we turn a blind eye to the torture of Iraqis, as if complicity will prevent our own torture. We are, as you recently commented, staring into an abyss, my friend.”
“Is J. still threatening to move to Canada?” he inquired.
My mood shifted at the mention of my comical housemate. "Yes he is, although it may be a hollow threat. That atlas he bought at Big Lots is missing a few pages, so he has plotted a course to Ontario via British Columbia," I laughed.
"And Ikey the Cat?"
"He's at CA," I replied.
"California?" Hector asked.
"No, Cussers Anonymous," I chuckled.