Satire derives from a heightened awareness of the fall of man, and is a kind of earthly mysticism.–Malcolm Muggeridge
WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER ELEVEN: PART TWENTY-ONE: DAYS OF WRATH
“Did I ever mention to you,”said Count Victor Justin to Cadger Tandy, as they walked along the principal boulevard of Blowtown on an unseasonably warm spring afternoon, “that I would gladly drive every damn housecat from off’n the face of the earth? Now, you might say, well, Sir, what about the rats? And I say that a good terrier dog has been known to kill as many as 2000 rats in a single night.
“What do I have agin’ cats? Plenty. They are arrogant and selfish, and they suck the breath out of babies, and that’s a known fact. They’re mean and they’re evil. Their hearts are full of poison. They won’t hesitate to bite and scratch you for practically no reason–just like a jealous woman as a matter of fact. Or a hillbilly sharecropper out on a toot.
“You can talk to a dog, and the brute almost seems to understand. But try talking to a cat, and as you look into those cold agate eyes you can almost see the creature thinking ‘Fuck you.’ I know that I am not alone in my feelings. As a matter of fact, you will find a great many horse doctors who share my sentiments. What the hell good are cats? They’re lazy, and will gladly sleep all day, and otherwise they will just set there doin’ nothin’, which sets a bad example for the children. They smell like piss. They spread diseases. And everywhere they go they shed their dirty fur and leave a trail of feline filth behind them. Plus, if you’re any kind of halfway intelligent moron, you get the inescapable instinct when you look at their blank stare and their idiotic purring faces that they would be just as happy if you were dead. If all of us were dead. And they also give the distinct impression that they would gladly feast on your still-warm corpse. At least a dog would have the decency to bark, and wake the neighbors, if something were to happen to you in the dead of night. But I’ll bet you ten to one that old Mr. Whiskers will start right in on the arm meat and commence to work his way up.
“Cats are really no good. They are killers who will attack everything that moves. Why we put up with them at all, I’ll never know. They are baby-faced monsters who have no sense of loyalty and a twisted sense of fun. They would rather bat around a half-dead mouse for hours on end than interact with a human being. They are persnickety little fussbudgets, and picky eaters, and you can’t get them to do anything that they don’t want to do. Again, kind of like women. They eat their own vomit. They spray their smelly musk all over everything. They kill innocent birds for no reason other than sheer orneryness. And then they bring the corpses into the front parlor, as though they’re doing you some sort of favor. They deposit their filth on every eating place in the kitchen. They wipe their filthy asses on every cloth surface in the house, including your antimacassar and your sofa and your hassock. They trail a foul aroma after them. They claw your furniture and no doubt would claw your face while you sleep if they could get away with it. The only person who is desperate enough to love a cat is very likely a lonely old spinster with way too much time on her hands.
“Because cats are vindictive and spiteful. they will shit on your shoes and even on your clothing just to get even with you. They puke enormous hairballs over every sanitary surface, and contaminate an entire house with their noxious smell of their excreta. If you ever meet a woman who owns more than one cat–beware. There is probably something uniquely wrong with her. She is very likely to be neurasthenic, at the very least, and probably a bull-goose loony who’s ready to be carted off to the laughing academy at the worst. As far as I’m concerned, a cat is a non-negotiable piece of baggage. When I take a lover, I lay down the law from the get-go: Either the cat goes, or I do. Any woman with any sense will get rid of the feline first thing. Cats are not something you should form an attachment to. They are dangerous ingrates. Any woman who would rather die than get rid of her cat is no woman for me. I won’t go so far as to say that she is infected by the evil cat and would be better off dead–though sometimes I wonder.
“Don’t get me wrong–I am not afraid of cats. I do not resent cats for being independent. I do not despise cats because they won’t follow orders. But I am on to cats. I know they are running an enormous racket. You see, I know them too well to believe otherwise. How, you might ask? Well, me and some of the boys were on our uppers one time, so we started an Angora kitten racket. The ad was geared to schoolmarms and other old biddies with moron intellects. It advertised a genuine purebred at a fire-sale price, delivered right to your door. In big bold letters printed at the bottom were the words ‘Last chance to send in your dollar’. What the racket was, was that we would capture every flea-bitten and mangy alley-cat we could find and corral them into a rented barn. Then one of us would put on heavy cattleman’s gloves and shove the kitty into a feculent crate. Picture the surprise on the face of the old widder-woman when she opened the putrid box, with white-gloved hands trembling in anticipation, and was greeted by a spitting and clawing wild cat, its matted fur smelling of shit and rancid fish, yowling and screaming all around a room after springing out of the box and screaming like a banshee. I imagine that many a fine parlor was wrecked beyond recognition by the howling moggie. I wonder how many old ladies dropped dead simply from the excitement alone.
“Anyway, cats are born grifters. Most people know this without really realizing it. Beware of a prison inmate with a cat tattoo–it either means he is a thief, or that he likes to fight, especially with turnkeys. Not a man to make an enemy of.
“Let me tell you something else–I actually admire big cats. I like to go to the circus to see them perform their tricks. But that doesn’t mean that I would like to own one. Quite frankly, I would rather not have to look every live-long day upon the visage of a duplicitous creature with a brain the size of a dumpling licking its blood-soaked paw with its disgusting pink tongue.Quite frankly, I would rather watch a forty-two round prizefight.
“That’s why I say that we should get rid of cats. Every last one of them. I maintain that the world would be a better place without them—a far, far better place.”
THE HOLY MODAL ROUNDERS
THE WHOLE WORLD OUGHT TO TAKE A VACATION
Playing cards, or suits of the deck in general, usually indicate an inmate who likes to gamble. This applies to gambling games both within prison and without; it can also represent a person who generally views life as a gamble.
This tattoo is very popular in Russian prisons, where each deck has its own meaning. A spade represents a thief; clubs symbolize criminals in general. Diamonds are reserved for stool
pigeons and informants – if the cards have this deck, then it was likely applied with force. Hearts imply that someone is looking for a romantic partner in the prison, which may also be forcibly applied.
42 SIGNS YOU’RE A CORRECTIONS OFFICER
POMERANIAN AFRAID OF NAIL CLIPPERS
DOG AFRAID OF JULIA ROBERTS
ANGRY CAT FIGHTS WITH HIMSELF IN A MIRROR
Whistling Wizards – 1890s to the 1970s
5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
NOVELTY JESUS ART
RAY NELSON AND BILL WRAY
This is the story that the movie “They Live” was based on.
TALES OF US
MY ADVENTURES WITH YOUR MONEY
BY CHARLES GRAHAM RICE
THE BETTER BEATLES
HELLO GOODBYE RINGTONE
THE BEATLES BARKERS
11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
HARK! A VAGRANT!
CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE.
935. LET BLACK PEOPLE GO OR THE DOOM INCREASES
936. POST-PUNK ODDITIES