Cato's Republic

Greater than Google: Cato's guide to nine lives -- Part 3

2010-02-23T15:10:08-08:00

"God has a plan for me," I twittered my followers. "The plan is to win election as Governor of the State of California." I hit send.

To solve the State's budget crisis, I would implement a serious incentive for state legislators to find a solution. I would use the La Parrilla (popularly used in Chile during the reign of Pinochet) on the backside of every elected official that balked.

I would also abolish the educational system. California had no business in education if could not bring itself to fund education. Instead I would focus the state where it did place its funds --- prisons. I would make California the Incarceration State.

California's expertise in criminality was famous.GITMO terrorists? Half of the country's nutcases already lived in California. We were experts in crazies. We would let our gangs re-educate them for the drug trade. We would take the Iraqistan out of them and introduce them 21st Century criminality.Underwear bombing? One of our tech companies wrote the how-to book and published it online.

I checked my Paypal account. My followers had already forked over $400,000 for my campaign. I would get the rest from California Employment Development Department (EDD), which owed me at least another million in unemployment. I had been fighting them for months, six to be exact, and still they could not bring themselves to write out the check. They did not believe a professional lap dancer and presidential candidate should get unemployment. I did. I had plans for the California EDD. It was take-down time.

I was just getting ready to tweet the news when the earth began to shake. I shot up the big maple tree in the backyard.

I pulled out my Android. "Major earthquake hits Northern California," I typed into it and sent it off.

Fortunately, my Android had a seismometer app. The needle was rattling so loud, I couldn't hear the birds twittering.

"This is a magnitude 9 earthquake, at a shallow depth, the ground is opening up below me."

"F%$#&k, I'm falling." I pressed send.

I knew that time stopped during catastrophes, but this was exceptional. I fell slowly. Time passed and I dozed. I checked my twitter update. Looked at my Facebook page. No mention of the quake.

I must have fallen asleep because I woke to find myself floating in a steaming pool of milk. The atmosphere was warm and fragrant with an after-storm tang. My Android lay as still as death beside me. It did make a sound. It was better this way. If I was dead, it would do no good to tweet about it.

I dipped my paws in the milk and licked them. I had found the wish-fulfilling cow.

And while I supped on milk, I thought about my life.

I thought about the ghastly cost of campaigning. The fact that I was broke and unemployed. The very real fact that I was alone in the world. Where in the world was I?

I thought about my favorite quotes from the the Catitudes in the hopes they would inspire me.

"O Cato, though The Great Cat's eyes seem small and blue, by opening them and closing them he brings about the creation and destruction of the world.

"When The Great Cat moves one ear, a breeze blows fragrant with the moisture emanating from his brow. Bees dance around as though his thoughts are flowers full of nectar.

"When he moves his other ear, the world spins in the universe and the stars shine on his followers. When he licks his paws his devotees rest in the knowledge that his claws will protect them and bring them the bounty of the supreme hunter.

"O Cato, rest in the knowledge that The Great Cat is, was and will always be."

I stopped and listened. I could hear the sucking sound of a vacuum rushing towards me with unbelievable speed. Was it The Great Cat?

The sea of milk bubbled and stirred into a misty spray. My Android phone came to life. I picked it up. The Great Cat spoke to me:

"O Cato, blessed are you among cats. No matter how the world appears. No matter how dark you mind may become. Do not lose hope! I am with you always. I am all things to all cats. I am the birdie you eat. Your tongue lapping at the milk. I am in your campaign AND I am your political opponent.

O Cato, your devotion to me has provided you will all the tools you will need in the coming moments," he nodded to the coming storm that agitated the milk and was now blowing me about. I have created an Android app for you. If you are in dire need, press it and help will come.

"O, Cato," his voice was lost in the rising storm and I wondered what it was that I was facing. I held my breath.

He was faceless, shapeless, formless.

"Who are you?" His voice boomed. His whole being reverberated like the spray of mud from beneath the wheels of a skidding car.

"You are spoiling my pristine pool." Again, the booming voice."You are not suppose to be here. Get out!," he was jacked up on something. I could see it in his eyes.

"You are thinking my pool into a tempest." I was actually feeling very mellow. I could not figure out where he got the idea that my thoughts were agitated.

"Who are you?" I asked quietly.

He paused. "I am the Lord of the Universe and you are standing in my pool. MY POOL!" He was getting worked up again."This is my domain. It has my name on it. I registered it. You have no business being here."

If this was the Lord of the Universe, we were in trouble.

"I am the creator of this world. I create all living beings. I do not remember creating you. How did you originate?"

As he said these things he moved closer. I could smell his breath before I could feel it. It conjured up images of damp basements and bloody carcasses... it has the disturbing smell of sexual excitement and fear......

It was then that my phone vibrated. I looked at the green glowing app marked "In Case of Trouble." I touched it.

"I am The Great Cat!" I thundered like I'd brought my own Creator of the Universe Sound System (TM) with me into the depths of the earth. I was on fire. I had no thoughts. I opened my mouth and the words formed themselves.

"Just as the sweetness of the milky pool is not greater at the center and less near the shore, so The Great Cat is the same everywhere. He is on the printed page and part of the digital realm. He writes in long-hand and sends his unedited tweets into the Twittersphere directly from his brain. He is a persona. He has clout."

"The Great Cat is the activity in all minds. Through him the eyes see, the nose perceives scent and the tongue utters speech. He alone pervades the whole of creation and is the sole cause of the universe. He is greater than Google. More innovative than Apple. He is the one cause and dissolution of all.

The Creator of the Universe looked confused.

"Are you a God? If so, you do not belong here!" He said.

Again, I opened my mouth and the response flowed through me.

"Who is it that stores the water in the rain clouds? Who holds the stars in the heavens?

"Who has spread out the wide canopy of the sky? Who is it that makes the wind blow?

"Who filled this pool and keeps it's milky waters fed? Who is the greatest creature in the universe?"

He opened his mouth to respond and faded into nothing. froze. I found myself standing in a court room facing Judge Judy in nothing but my underwear.

I gasped and the Judge turned to me and spoke angrily:

"Does the defendant deny that he tried to blow up the California Employment Development Department?"

"He does not your honor." The Great Cat stood next to me; an orange tabby with psychedelic swirls. His blue eyes glowed. His briefcase was attached to his wrist with a handcuff. I was dazzled.

"Does he deny that he walked into their office in Sacrament with a bomb in his underwear?"

"He does not your honor," he coughed and winked at me.

"Well then he is facing a sentence of life imprisonment for terrorist acts," the Judge seemed to get satisfaction out of pronouncing the word. "What is his defense?"

"Professional lap dancer and politician." He chucked.

"Excuse me?" She raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"He is a professional lap dancer and politician and is entitled to unemployment. He was denied a hearing by the EDD and was on the verge of starving to death. He thought either way the publicity would get him benefits or a new gig on the champagne court." He roared with laughter.

As he laughed his voice echoed out over the State of California drowning out the voices of my opponents in the gubernatorial race.

Then my phone rang.......

I plugged my bluetooth in my ear and listened.

"Cato, this is the Ayatollah Khatmeni," I held my breath. What did that old fart want?

"Cato, as you know your numbers were growing until you pulled this stunt at the EDD."

"Your Grace, how is this possible. I just discovered myself in this situation. I really don't think this is anything more than a figment of my imagination."

"Don't interrupt me boy!" He shouted down the airwaves. "Our poll numbers have dropped. If we are going to pick up most of the votes of the Ivy League-educated, Chablis-drinking, Brie-eating elite from San Francisco, we're going to have to pick it up a bit. Why, I ask you, why did you not detonate the bomb?"

The Great Cat started laughing and his voice echoed over the State of California once again.

I suddenly awoke and found myself laying in a pile of bills. A flyer for the Feline Party God of Fund-Raising Disco Night rested on my chest. How or what I experienced, I do not know. All I know is when I arrived at the Parties' disco night, my name was on the will-call list and I got in for free.

In the catnip pot

2009-11-21T13:33:53-08:00

He just had to get into the pot. When he was done there wasn't much left!

Cato sees the light [Flickr]

2009-08-21T19:19:04-07:00

creatures of the earth posted a photo:

Ascetic Cato [Flickr]

2009-08-18T19:18:59-07:00

creatures of the earth posted a photo:

Learn about The Great Cat from a master!
tinyurl.com/pk83lm

Cato unadorned [Flickr]

2009-08-15T15:59:35-07:00

creatures of the earth posted a photo:

The real fellow!

Forget the death panels

2009-08-15T15:31:38-07:00

Cato supports vivisection for teabaggers as part of health reform. In addition to neutering for politicians, he advocates lobotomies for Republicans like Chuck Grassley (unfortunately he appears to already have had one).

Health care reform? [Flickr]

2009-08-15T15:17:28-07:00

creatures of the earth posted a photo:

Health care reform death panels? Cato supports vivisection for teabaggers as part of the reform. He's got his own scalpel.

The Great Cat [Flickr]

2009-08-11T15:49:24-07:00

creatures of the earth posted a photo:

No country for old cats: the practical guide to nine lives - Part 2

2009-08-10T16:48:50-07:00

For part 1 of the Practical Guide.

"Never drink a wine older than the 1800s, particularly if the wine level is at mid-shoulder. Chances are you will leave with a lot less money in your pocket." Lesson # 53 from The Practical Guide to Nine Lives, by Cato

"Ah here it is, the Lafite 1787." The accent was German. I was grabbed by the neck and hoisted underneath an armpit. My sediment stirred. My anticipation rose. Was I going to be drunk?

The German carried me through the light and dark of the cavern and up stone stairs through a wooden door into a great hall. I was set on a huge wooden table where a group of people broke into "oohs" and "ahhhs" as I was contemplated.

I was special. I was rare. The anticipation of drinking me made the air ripe with bliss. I could see it in every face who gazed at me. Every taste bud in the room stood at attention.

"Let's open it!" The voice blasted against my glass sides and made them quiver. I was settled in a ceramic bowl and the wax covering my cork was slowly peeled away. There was popping in my chest and them my cork fell inwards.

"Oops!" Again the voice jarred me and I felt a piece of glass fall away from its spot on my side and my liquid innards began to seep into the bowl.

The man who had opened me, stuck his nose over the brown liquid that spilled from my side.

"Ah," he said with rapture, "excellent. It is still very much alive."

He quickly upended the rest of me in a decanter. He poured me into six glasses. I was in the hands of six individuals who stuck their noses next to my liquid self and inhaled.

The room was quiet for a while.

"Extraordinaire!" Said a man in a tan suit with carnation tuck into the buttonhole. The hairs of his nose tickled me. I giggled.

"It looks like a 1900," said another fellow reverently.

Then I saw him. Dressed in a bespoke suit with blue pinstripes. His whiskers twitched. He inhale and his limp blue eyes closed slightly. When they opened again, they remained half-closed as if he was in deep meditation.

"The most extraordinary thing about this wine," he said to the room, "is its weight and intensity. It smells of dirt, dead birds and cedar." He smacked his lips.

The other connoisseurs gagged.

"But you know," he continued, "this is not the taste of a 1787 vintage. It's intensity speaks of something new, as new as an April Fool. My guess is it is an April 1, 2003. It has great potential to soften into a truly great wine reminiscent of the 1954 vintage."

"You're right, it is remarkably light and modern, but I disagree on the age. I am sure it is a 1787," the Frenchman said dipping his nose hairs once again into my liquid. I sneezed.

The Great Cat looked deeply into my liquid form and whispered: "Smells like blood on the garage floor. Smells like hair caught in barbed wire and lightly crunched lizard tails. Smells like you could use a little help, Cato." Then he drank the last of me down.

"Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of The Great Cat and drink his blood, you have no life in you; he who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life." Lesson # 1787 from The Practical Guide to Nine Lives, by Cato

When I woke, The Great Cat was holding me weeping. He was shoving food in his mouth with the same intensity as his sorrow. As he chewed, he clutched me to his breast and wailed out his sorrow, spewing bread, spaghetti and tomato sauce across the table.

He sang (oh yes, he sang):

Cato, Cato, when will those clouds all disappear?
Cato, Cato, where will it lead us from here?
With no loving in our souls and no money in our coats
You can't say we're satisfied
But Cato, Cato, you can't say we never tried
Cato, you're beautiful, but ain't it time we said good-bye?
Cato, I still love you, remember all those nights we cried?
All the dreams we held so close seemed to all go up in smoke
Let me whisper in your ear:
Cato, Cato, where will it lead us from here? (Sung to Angie, by The Rolling Stones)

He was about to pick up a microphone and stand up and belt out the most heartfelt tune of his career, but I knew if he did, he would be embarrassed in the morning.I cleared my throat.

"Oh, there you are," he shifted his weight slightly forcing me to sit up in his lap.

"A bit over the top, don't you think?" I asked him, trying to feel whether I was still bleeding.

"But you're my boy, and I can cry if I wanta cry," he said with a smile.

"Have you recovered? I asked.

He shook his head yes and said: "But you haven't, look here," he showed me his paws. They were wet and pink-tinged with my blood.

Something struck me funny about this and I laughed. The laugh shuddered into a cough and my guts hurt.

"Your nine lives are almost gone," he said. "I could give you more, but you need to learn what it means to have life after life after lifetime. The responsibilities that you hold because you have nine lives, your obligations......to the rest of the felidae....." he paused. "Death is playing a game with you. It is a long game, but in the end the outcome is certain. This is your only chance to overcome pain and suffering...." He trailed off again.

I could see that he was going to go off on one of his philosophical ramblings and I just knew I would yawn at an inappropriate moment. Something stirred in me. I put my nose in the air and pricked my ears.

I smelled a rat. A real rat.......and I was hungry........

The practical guide to nine lives

2009-04-19T19:10:19-07:00

"Armed robbery can be fatal." Lesson #62 in The Practical Guide by Cato

How did I get there on that fateful night?

A month before, I took the elevator to the top of Tokyo Tower and looked out toward Hawaii wondering what the winner of the fall presidential election would be thinking about in the coming months. I envied him the advantage of knowing what he would be doing for the next four years....I did not have this luxury. I had no idea what I would be doing.

I was in Japan hiding from my creditors.

Well that's not entirely true.

I had come to Japan to set up a psychiatric practice treating "Paris Syndrome,"a type of cultural shock that affects Japanese tourists visiting Paris when they discover that the city does not meet their expectations. I had begun to realize that my patients would be better served if I moved to Paris to begin treatment at the very beginning of their malaise.

I knew only too well about disillusionment --after all I had been a presidential candidate. Reality is sometimes hard to take after that. People look at you as a has-been. There is a debilitating withdrawal from rubber chicken dinners. The knowledge that you no longer have a driver --not even a car-- is painful.

While running from this painful reality, I discovered sushi, in particular ikura. It was my secret escape. I would eat those delicate, little pink pearls of fish roe...one after another, after another until I could not move. Illusions die hard, but one bite of ikura and the disillusioned can face reality with a smile.

One day I realized I was cured. I took six pounds of ikura, caught a taxi to Narita and headed to Charles De Gaulle.

That is how I found myself dressed in blond wig and flowered dress in Harry Winston jewelers robbing the proprietor, surrounded by nutters speaking the ugliest Serbian-accented French I have ever heard. The wig kept falling over my eyes. My paws were jammed cruelly into high-heeled shoes. I was holding a gun.

At that moment, I just knew I had found my niche. Armed robbery was so much more fun than running for president. It was exciting, exhilarating........ and very lucrative.

It was exactly what I needed to rouse me from my ennui. In the end, I walked away with a Louis Vuitton full of emeralds, rubies and chunky diamonds the size of tiny bird eggs valued at more than 80 million euros. But I'm getting ahead of the story......

During the campaign, my brother became the lap cat of Boban Stojkovic a former member of the Pink Panther gang. The Pink Panthers were a group of 200 men and women who originated in the Balkan states and who carried out high-profile theft worldwide. My brother would text me about their activities where ever they traveled -- Tokyo, Mayfair and Dubai. I felt like I knew them.

He'd text'd me about the Henry Winston heist, so when I arrived in Paris, I stepped off the plane and took a taxi and to the jewelry shop without thinking. Then I pulled my gun out of my bag and shouted "hands up!" Everyone turned around and looked. A shot rang out. It didn't hurt at first. I just stared down at my dress and watched the red blotch grow. The blood warmed my feet. I remember staggering backwards and thinking how warm I felt.....

Then anxiety gripped me.

I could see the headlines, "Former Presidential Candidate Nabbed in Jewel Heist!" I supposed that I could write a book about the caper while doing time in jail, but I didn't really want to take that much time out of my life. How much time did one get for armed robbery? My thoughts began to scatter and I tried to get up............

"When you have a chest wound it is imperative that you seek medical care."Lesson #41 from The Practical Guide by Cato.

I lost consciousness. When I woke, I was standing at a roulette table, martini glass in hand. I watched the wheel spin for several seconds. There was no one else at the table but the croupier. "No more bets," he called out. I realized he looked familiar. He was pure white, with pink ears and sky blue eyes. The air around him glowed with energy and he smelled of earth and roses.

"We meet again Cato," The Great Cat said in that self-satisfied tone he takes when he wants to teach me something.

Couldn't he see how fragile I was? I was bleeding.....couldn't he see the state I was in? I needed medical care. His blue eyes flashed and lit up with an internal fire that burnt everything away. If I had been worried or frightened of dying, it was all gone and done in that instant.

"Please, if you would, concentrate on the wheel," The Great cat said. I nodded and allowed my focus to soften.

"Yes, that's good," he said. "Now, place your bet.

I took a stack of chips and set them on the number 7.

"Yes, that's good," he said again. He spun the wheel and after the little ball bounced several times, the number 7 came up.

For several seconds I basked in that phenomena called winning. I felt better, stronger, almost healthy.

"Place your bets please," he said again.

I took a stack of chips and set them on the number 7.

Again the wheel spun and the ball stuck on the number 7.

The stack of chips was growing in front of me.

"Cato," he said. "As long you are with me, you will never lose."

"The Great Cat wants me to be rich," I thought to myself. He said the words like every televangelist I've ever heard -- smooth, silky and with just enough smiling encouragement that I would be turning all my earthly goods over to him....shortly. And yet, I felt good, better than good. I felt on the top of my game.

"The Practical Guide to Nine Lives is the highest authority in all matters pertaining to the physical life and death of cats. It is meant to be read at the birth of all kittens and whispered in the ears of all cats dead, dying or long passed. Felines regard the book as the history of their race. One hesitates to enter into discussion of accurately dating The Guide (sometimes called the Catitudes). The author, Cato, is reputed to have been alive during the time of the Battle of the Bulge, a time when every cat had plenty to eat and they fought the great war to maintain a healthy weight. Some European Catologists assign The Guide to the 12th Century B.C., others to earlier ages. Max Muller, for example, estimated the date to be about 1200 B.C., but Haug thought it closer to 2400. Neither believed, of course, in the divine origin of the book.The eminent Indian scholar, Sikkim Felitak, calculated from astronomical data contained in the Catitudes (and suggested in the mantras or meowas) that The Guide was brought together five thousand years before the Christian era. According to the orthodox tradition, the texts, even before their compilation, had been known to the catishis for unnumbered ages. In short, the dates of The Guide, its hymns and collections are far from clear......." From the Introduction to The Practical Guide by Cato.

"There once was a beggar," said The Great Cat, "a holy beggar that was devoted to meditation. His mind, having been purified by meditation, came to possess the ability to materialize his thoughts. One day, after nearly continuous meditation, and yet having his mind fully concentrated, he decided to be reborn as a cat. Instantly he became a cat. The holy beggar who was a cat entered into the dream life of a cat; killing tiny creatures and rubbing the leg of his owner until he lay down in a sunbeam and went to sleep....and dreamed he was the creator of the universe...."

As he spoke, I felt tired and looked down at front of my suit. I could see the blood spreading across the fabric. I could see beneath the roulette table a great pool of my own blood. I felt oddly divorced from the idea that I was bleeding, profusely. When I looked back at him in puzzlement, he smiled.

"Here, Cato, sit," I climbed into his lap and he wrapped his arms around me and held me close. "My dear Cato," he whispered in my ear, "What do you long for?"

My mouth was parched and all I could think of was a drink. "Wine, " I whispered.

"A Bordeaux perhaps?" he said. "A 1787 bottle of Chateau Lafite?"

I nodded, feeling warm and cozy. I could almost see the bottle. I could feel it resting in my hands. I brought it to my cheek to feel how cool it might be. I could smell the mustiness.

"Cato?" His voice was sharp. "You will become what you now concentrate upon." He blew across the top of my head and I felt a stirring in my fur. I felt myself lift slightly out of my body. It hurt. I was frightened. Was I going to leave my body through the top of my head? And the, I found I was strangely confined and that my body was liquid and shaped by a glass bottle that contained it. I flowed and splashed. I lay on my side in a dusty cellar. It was so quiet for so long, I think I fell asleep.........and then my bottle tilted and I sloshed a bit.

"At the moment of death your mind, in fact your whole life will be clear to you. Enjoy this as it is fleeting and you will face tests yet undreamed of afterwords."Lesson #132, from The Practical Guide, by Cato.

To be continued.

Cato's post-presidential video

2009-03-02T17:37:26-08:00

This video was created by Ruth Lake.

Relaxing at home

2009-02-23T07:54:32-08:00

Cato gets out into the back yard and relaxes after a grueling all-day session writing his next story. Photo by Ruth Lake.

Cato looks at the light

2009-02-06T10:51:46-08:00

Cato stands in a shaft of light contemplating his next move. Photo by Ruth Lake.

Merrry Christmas: Sent from my iThrone

2008-12-21T19:10:12-08:00

I know that most of you are eager to know what it is that I've gotten you for Christmas. As you know, my candidacy has kept me very busy, so busy, in fact, I have had very little time to sit down in the lab to create something special for the holidays......but I have come up with a little app that should make your lives easier.

It occurred to me on one of my long campaign treks that there wasn't much ground to sink my claws into. So much of the United States is paved that I was unable to find the proper material to perform my "business."

So I created a portable cat box just big enough to stick in my jacket pocket.

I call it the iThrone.

You can take it out anywhere. Press the button -- it's ready to go when you are. AND because the iThone is so cool, most folks never really notice that you are taking a dump while talking to them on the phone.

The best thing? You can customize the program for things like dirt type and aroma (so you can dial up potting soil with a fishy smell), and set texture from gritty to fluffy.

It also automatically buries your business every three minutes so you never have to get your paws dirty. Or if you prefer, you can give the iThrone a good shake and clean up your mess instantly!

It combines four products in one — a revolutionary phone, a widescreen iPod, a breakthrough Internet device, and a portapotty -- the ultimate in convenience.

For those that are worried about sanitation, the iThrone uses the latest in bacteria-busting nanotechnology by depositing silver particles averaging about 10 nanometers - less than a thousandth the diameter of a human hair - on the seat. Silver is an ancient infection fighter and in this age of antibiotic resistant bacteria, silver is still effective.

Options include iBird (particularly appropriate for outdoor kitties). If used while sitting on your iThrone, you can easily identify birds while preprogrammed birdcalls attract them to your waiting claws. In addition, each bird is rated in terms of succulence, sweetness and amount of protein availability. This feature will allow you to point, click and eat!

I can also engrave it to make it a special gift. I gave one to my campaign manager that said: "Don't just sit there, feed me!"

I sent another to George W inscribed with this quote: "I've abandoned free market principles to save the free market system." I got a nice card back from him thanking me for my thoughtfulness.

Cato......solving life's dilemma's one app at a time. Merry Christmas....Sent from my iThrone!

The view from Sarah Palin's Lap

2008-10-29T19:50:14-07:00

"Ground down by the war and driven back by Fate,

the Felidae captains had watched the years slip by

until, helped by Minerva's superhuman skill,

they built that Great Cat, immense as a mountain,

lining its whiskers with ships timbers hewn from pine.

An offering to secure safe passage home, or so

Alaska they pretended, and the story spreads through .

But they pick by lot the best, most able-bodied feline

and stealthily locked him into the cat's tummy

'till the vast hold of the monster's chest is placed

the Trojan Kitty bearing only his wit, his audacity.

"And so it appears that the cats have sped home -- gone!

So all Wasilla breathes free, relieved of her endless sorrow, locked in war with the Felidae the gates of the small city were flung open, the citizens streamed out elated to see that their enemy had abandoned camp

And the Wasillians gazed wonderstruck at The Great Cat

transfixed by the feline, its looming mass, their doom.

Sarah Palin led the way. "Drag it inside the walls," she urged.

"Plant it high on the city heights."

"An opponent of dragging The Great Cat within the gates shouted: "Poor doomed fools have you gone mad? You really believe the enemy's sailed away?

Or any gift of the Felidae is free from guile?

Trust me, either the cats are hiding shut inside those beams

or the cat is a battle-engine geared to breach our walls,

spy on our homes, come down on our city, overwhelm us --

or some other deception's lurking deep inside it.

Wasillians, never trust that cat. Whatever it is,

I fear the Felidae, especially bearing gifts!" The Feneid

It wasn't hard to see where this was going...I flipped open the trapdoor and fell out between the two massive front legs of the faux cat. My disguise as Hello Cato would help me look foolish rather than fearsome.

I had agreed to the plan The Great Cat had laid out the day before. "Sarah Palin is living in a dream and that dream will bring doom to all.” He insisted that the Hello Kitty disguise would easily gain me access to the vice presidential candidate.

When he pulled out the actual costume, I balked.

"So you really expect me to wear that? It has a red bow. I am neutered, not.....redish!"

He smiled. "I knew you’d say that. But look, I've made it to look like a Siamese!" He laughed.

"Is the best you can do?" I sneered. "I agree she must be stopped. Anyone who hates cats should be neutralized, especially if they aspire to high office, but...." My paws fell to my sides. How will this get me inside the walls of the governor’s mansion and how will it get me onto the lap of Sarah Palin?"

“Your Hello Cato outfit will be familiar to her. She will recognize it as a cultural symbol of sweetness, while it masks your absolute deadliness.”

And thus I entered the Palin residence as a gift from the lower 48:

"Dreams haunt my quaking heart, Bristol!

Who is this stranger just arrived to lodge in our house -- our guest?

How noble his face, his courage, and what a cat!

Behold the bold red bow!

I'm sure -- I know it's true -- this cat is born of gods.

Fear exposes the lowborn cat at once. But, oh, how tossed

he's been by blows of fate. What tales he's told

what bitter bowls of life he's drunk…and to the dregs.

If my heart had not been fixed, dead set against

embracing yet another cat...," she broke off, voice choking with the tears

that brimmed and wet her heaving breast.

Then Cato, overwhelmed by this strange vision, felt his hackles bristling with fear—and something else—envy for her glasses, fogged by tears.

As the vision ended, I found myself nestled in her lap and breathed deeply of her scent. I smelled baby poop, breast milk, laundry soap and something else, something hideous…my bowels suddenly felt loose.

"It's the smell of the shadow, Cato," The Great Cat whispered in my ear. I listened to him intently, "By appealing to fear and resentment, hostility to change, suspicion of “the other”, religious intolerance and hatred of cats, the Republicans have been the shadow party for many, many years. Sarah Palin has put a smiling face on feelings we normally feel ashamed to admit. This is a classic battle between good and evil."

"I thought you were above all that!" I was beginning to feel real disappointment in The Great Cat, first the red bow and now this.

"I am. I am speaking from the human point of view: those who believe good and evil exist. Sitting in Sarah Palin's lap is the greatest test of your life. In order to lead people back to their humanity, you must have deepen your understanding: you must see what she sees, feel what she feels…and come to terms with it."

"The feline mind-meld? I said in horror.

"Yes, I think you are ready to experience it, and you have acquired the skills."

"But I thought it was forbidden?" I felt queasy. The smell of the shadow was sickening me.

"You are permitted because you our best chance to set the world aright.”

I gasped.

"Go within…touch her mind," he whispered.

And with trepidation, I sunk my claws into her thighs.

“Born of the blood of gods, Cato of the red bow, descended to the underworld of the Republicans within her mind."

Night and day the gates of the conservative underworld stand open, ready to swallow those who are dim-witted and misguided and swallow them whole. There on the steps of folly, I met my guide, Phyllis Schlafly. She smelled of the dead—the juice, which once animated her body, now dry.

"I understand you’re neutered?" she scoffed.

I nodded.

"That is unnatural," she said baldly. “How, being unnatural, did you gain entrance to the Right and Holy Underground?”

I sighed. "Madame, how could I be otherwise? I am a cat: territorial, unorthodox, unbound by the niceties of humans. Hell, woman, I spray therefore I’m neutered!"

"Hello Cato,” she warned, “You are unwelcome here. You have gained entrance, but you may never return to your previous life."

I felt a chill… then beat back the fear and regained my courage. "Yes, but what is the magic antidote, the enchanted device, that will bring me back to the Feline domain?"

"You must steal the heart of Dick Cheney,” she mocked. “Deep in his chest beats a mechanical heart of gold. That is the holy heart of the party. Pluck it from his chest, turn it off, and your return is certain."

I gagged. "I'll pass," I said. I was sure the Great Cat could help me return.

Moving deeper into Palin’s shadow realm, I stepped across the dying body of the Economy: repellant and oozing slime, the result of Republican politics. It reached up, putrid with greed, to suck the life from me. I dug my claws deeper into Palin's thigh and hung on for dear life.

I was now entering the realms of the monster known as “Wall Street”. I stepped carefully to avoid the crash. Monstrous howling and braying erupted as the financial world fell. I tossed $700 billion into its gaping maw, where it disappeared without a trace.

Suddenly a specter of Palin appeared, coming towards me. "Resistance is futile," she crowed, “You’ll never leave my realm.” She had plugged directly into the Republican hive mind. As she reached out to touch me, I could sense her desire to add feline knowledge to their party. I jumped out of her reach.

"You will join me and my friends shortly," she hissed. "Resistance is futile," and she reached for me again.

I struggled to stay out of her reach, feeling that I might—somehow--be able to teach her a different point of view.

"Wait,” I suggested, “Listen to this story…There once was a king of

Syria

He was a very bad, a very nasty king, and he lusted after the kingdom of Egypt, just as you lust after the lower 48. So he invaded, and the royalty of Egypt begged Rome to intervene, just as the American people cry out to the Felidae for help. And Rome, being the greatest of all nations, sent Gaius Popillius Laenas, Consul of Rome, to intervene…and Gaius took just 14 wise men with him to meet with the king of Syria.

“You are offending the Senate and the People of Rome," said Gaius after staring at the king. "I order you to return to Syria."

The king laughed in his face. "And how are you going to make me do that? He asked. "Where is your army?"

"I have no need of an army," said Gaius. "Everything that Rome is, has been, and will be, is standing before you here and now. I am Rome, no less than Rome's largest army. And in the name of Rome, I say to you a further time…go home!"

"The king said nothing. Gaius Popillius Laenas said nothing. They stared at one another for a long, long time. And then the king turned, gathering his armies, and returned to Syria."

I ended my story and said to Palin: "By the red bow of Hello Cato, I order you to return home. By order of the family Felidae, I order you to pack it up and get out of the campaign…now, while you have your life. Go back to Wasilla.”

"Make me," she spat.

" Very well. Since you desire to add feline knowledge to your party, I will give you a glimpse into the wild mind of the Felidae."

“Oh, I’m so afraid," she said mocking me.

And then I opened my mind to her. She froze, registered pain, and then collapsed in shock. Blood trickled from her lips and nostrils. I sighed. It couldn't be helped, she needed to know what she was up against: no Republican can stand against the wild mind of Felidae…

I picked her up from where she had collapsed and walked out of the Land of the Dead...

Editors note: Sources for much of the copy for this story came from The Aeneid (Fagles translation) and Colleen McCullough's book "The First Man of Rome." This story was edited by A2.