Miss Litter's Last Sigh

Sunday afternoons used to be lazy days when I could spread out on my human's Vanity Fair and catch up on the latest Matt Damon gossip. Now there is only one Sunday afternoon left: the afternoon of the big fight. I've been called out by a bully after school, nowhere for me to run. My nine-lives are up. Clock ticking. My days are numbered. Four to be exact. So obviously, this will be my last entry.

No, no one spilled coffee on the server. The site isn't getting hit by stealth DOS attacks. It's more banal than that. Bo is coming this weekend. In a moment of violent chaos I will become dog food.

What saddens me above all else is that I'll never post another boring episode for my fans. I took a little pride and delight in boring you. You are the reason I breath. The reason I stay off drugs. The reason I quit pre-med and watch ER instead.

This is such a Ziggy Stardust moment, I can almost hear you all whimpering out there in the dark theatre of the intertubes mourning my impending loss.

Signing off forever and ever, Moxie

You Mean The Musical Kind Of iPod?

Oh, the OTHER kind of iPod - the music kind. Well, that's even easier to explain. The iPod is the first song people learn on the piano - it's a rudimentary waltz played with two fingers that start together and get further and further apart. Once the song wears on the nerves, it repeats. It's more popular than you'd expect, given how annoying it is.

I suppose people are attracted to the iPod's simplicity and how easy it is to learn.

Another easy-to-learn musical device is the Flea Waltz. But it's like a bad song you can't shake - singing in your ears all day. No amount of scratching can rid you of it.