17 January 2009

REVIEW: Kittens

Behold: the mystery, the majesty, the kissability of kittens.

Since the beginning of time, mankind has enjoyed the occasional company of tiny, miniature cats that somehow find a way to piss inside the microwave during the fifteen minutes that you're at Shaw's picking up some stuff to make a sandwich with. And you don't realize it until after you microwave the goddamn sandwich and it smells like a piss sandwich. So you raise your metatarsal boot high into the air to teach that goddamn cat a lesson... but you can't do it.

Because it's soooo cute.

Why? Why do we forgive them? What has led man to love kittens in consistently more authentic ways than he loves, say, his children or his money? Why do people fall head over heels for the kitten? I'll fucking tell you why.

They love us unconditionally.

No, that's not it.

It's because they remind us of Fiona Apple. Think about it: kittens are furry and cute, they've recorded with indie pioneer Jon Brion, they play together, they puke a lot, they're good at hiding, they have razor-sharp retractable claws, they were traumatically abused as a young girl, they love tuna and milk, they performed a joint tour with Nickel Creek in 2007, they claw the shit out of your furniture until you're literally screaming at them: "Goddamnit it, Fiona, stop fucking clawing my furniture! That love seat cost me a fortune in Marlboro points!", and when they can't understand what you're screaming at them they cock their heads to one side and meow in a little high-pitched tone, then maybe lick their paw, perform an ear-catching falsetto trill and climb inside a tissue box. Why does no one notice these things?

I've gotta fucking try harder tomorrow.