Moctopussy

They want revenge. Or national treasury bling. Or weapons. They want to destroy the planet with assorted lasers. Or robots. Or giant sharks. Or giant robot sharks with lasers.

Some of them want a big-ass promotion.

But it occurred to me that very few movie villains, if any, ever want what so many highly obsessive folks teetering on the precipice of sanity seem to want...

An excess of cats.

So I was thinking, just once, I would love to see an action picture where the bad guy gets on the video comm-- which they all seem to have--

(Tech companies must make big bucks setting up satellite communication systems for Evil Overlords)

He picks up his pre-prepared evil guy speech--

(Because so often they toil for decades to achieve revenge and world domination, yet don't seem to have their evil monologues memorized. You'd think they'd be rehearsing in front of the mirror along with brushing their teeth every morning.)

-- And he tells our heroes something like this:


"This is Professor Heinous. My giant robot laser sharks are everywhere, and as you can see, I have you, citizens of Earth, right where I want you. So now that I have your complete and undivided attention, I will issue my demands..."

"By 12 midnight tomorrow, I want the major leaders of Earth to assemble and present me with the world's entire supply of...."

—You can hear a bead of sweat roll—

"...Persians!"

Here the leaders of the major nations, on each of their individual monitor screens, exchange glances with their advisors. Eyebrows are raised. The Secretary of Defense gives a meaningful look to the President and twirls a finger around one ear symbolically.

"Um," the President of the United States turns calmly to the monitor. "I believe they're called 'Iranians' nowadays."

"Not, people, you dimwit!" shouts Professor Heinous. "What am I going to do with people? I hate people. People make me sick. Persians! Persians!"

"Oh!" interjects the British Prime Minister. "Well, that can certainly be arranged. What color scheme are you going for?"

"Color sch--" A vein throbs in Professor Heinous' neck as he sputters. "Are you insulting me with talk of textiles?! This is a concrete stronghold cut into an isolated volcanic island. Do I look like I need rugs here?"

"Well, actually," says the Prime Minister, nodding hesitantly, "I wouldn't recommend the world's supply, but my wife indicates just a few would really tie the—"

"Persians!" shouts Professor Heinous. "Cats. Fluffy ones. That are soft and furry and go by names like Tiddles and Mister Whiskerton, and eat Fancy Feast out of crystal goblets. Persians, you fools! That I can talk to and pet and watch frolic after a feather on a stick. And which will never, ever leave me, largely because I will lock them in the Evil Compound and plus this is an island and they can't swim."

"Ah," said the Prime Minister of Japan, "'kay. Sure."

"And now for my second demand," says Professor Heinous. "I also expect to receive.... the world's supply of tinfoil, and all copies of the Sacramento Bee newspaper dating from 1982, February, back to 1960, July. I'm missing those copies for my collection and now that I rule the world, I'm thinking the time is right to really flesh it out."

The camera pans and we see that in most of the Evil Conference Room, there are stacks and stacks of hoarded yellow newspapers, piled high to the ceiling, many of them still in their original plastic wrappers.

"And don't send any of those Clean House people here when you drop them off. I hate that Niecy woman. She's obnoxious. I guarantee you, she will be the first to die."


So-- tell me, folks: what would you like to see a movie villain do that hasn't been done yet?

Doggs and Reindeer Living Together, Mass Hysteria

(Part of the Humor Bloggers Christmas Carnival)

I'd pretty much pooh-poohed all the paranoid blather about 2012 being the End of the World As We Know It...

Until this morning. Because I do believe I saw evidence we're headed that way.

I was flipping channels, enjoying my beloved morning java, and there on my television screen was Martha Stewart and Snoop-Dogg, making holiday brownies together in jarring, surreal camaraderie-- and rapping about it.

Martha Stewart. Rapping.

Snoop-Dogg. Baking.

This alone may be proof that something decidedly strange is up with the Universe.

For me, however, all else remains per the holiday norm. For instance, the Annual Christmas Self-Crippling is well underway.

Yes, nothing suggests a festive holiday like spending it twisted and hobbled like a cross-dressing Tiny Tim with a gland disorder!

I'm not sure why exactly, but every year at this time, I feel compelled to spread Holiday Perfection to all corners of my home-- and apparently mostly those that require ladders and Twister-like contortionist skillz to reach them.

The fact is, my father will be the main person to see this Winter Wonderland of Interior Excess.

And this is a man whose feels he's really home-cooked when nuking instructions exceed three minutes...

A fellow whose most-used dishes come on a roll labeled "Brawny."

There really isn't a lot of pressure here.

Christmas won't skip to next door just because one wayward dust bunny isn't wearing a Santa hat.

Ebeneezer Scrooge won't humbug for all eternity if I don't get the Dickens Village set up this year.

The world will not end if the sugarplums are not moshing away in La-La Land.

If anything, the world ends when Snoop-Dogg starts telling us how to get the perfect glaze on the ham we smoked in our own smokehouse.

The gig is over when Martha starts her program with "Yo, yo, yo, peeps! S to the A to the N-T-A!"

But alas, I still find myself thinking-- if I could only uncover some way to wrap festive holiday lights around the electric heating pad I will be strapped to for the next five days, I could truly multitask.

Some things never change, I suppose.

Hail to your mommas.
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