There was a cat in a cage on the Subway this morning. He wasn’t by himself – his people were with him. Woulda sucked if he was alone, cause again he was in a cage and he’d be pretty much f*cked. He was orange and white and mewing incessantly.

I have always had this gift with cats. I can pick up even the wildest of felines, and I have this secret hold that I do where they’ll always just go limp and relax. Might also have something to do with the finger in the butt.

Anyway, I made eye contact with the cat. It stared at me for a bit, cried out again briefly and then shut up. I didn’t hear him mew again for the rest of the ride. Maybe my steely gaze intimidated it. Maybe word has gotten around the water dish that I violate the odd cat with my pinky.

My own cat, Boss – I’ll admit that I have one as I’m comfortable with my sexuality – is remarkably obedient. He comes when I call him, does tricks, yaps incessantly and loves people. He’s like a dog. Or Bryan Whitely.

But I’m good with the cats.

As my friend Mike would put it, my favorite ‘fish-wrapper’, The Boston Globe, decided to run like the wind with a story which apparently proved that some of Bush’s military files were concocted recently – and then made to appear as if they were written in the 1970’s.

The jist is this: Accusations of forgery can be proven because certain documents were printed with “proportionally spaced fonts” that did not come into use “for office memos until the introduction of laser printers, word processing software, and personal computers. They were not widespread until the mid to late 90’s.” Clutch the pearls!

What a scandal. This changes everything. In fact, Katharine Q. Seelye from Free Republic goes a step further: “I am saying these documents are forgeries, run through a copier for 15 generations to make them look old. This should be pursued aggressively.” That’s quite an accusation, Ms. Seelye, but it sounds like you’ve done your homework and unearthed a real administration-killer here.

That is if IBM hadn’t actually introduced the proportionally spaced typewriter in 1941.

Keep digging, kids. You’ve got, oh, 54 days left until November 2nd.

During University of Guelph summer holidays, Gazza, JV and I used to wash windows in Oakville, Ontario. We’d get up at 5:30 and usually work through until 7 or 8 at night. Long hours, but $600+ a week was a fortune to a student, and we’d usually get to take the entire month of August off. Those two summers were hectic – there were good experiences and bad experiences on the job. We once washed a house made entirely out of glass which was pretty cool. But then there was the time we were scrubbing siding with TSP and paint chips began to flake off like confetti. They clogged a storm drain and then flooded a very nice lady’s finished basement. That went over like a belch in church.

My point being, summer jobs in O-Town can be stressful – but never once did I consider mutilating a co-worker (alright, so maybe there was that one time Gary yelled at me after I shattered a toilet tank by dropping a window pane on it). Apparently times have changed. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the Jesus Chainsaw Massacre DVD has now outsold Return of the King. Even the church is getting into torture and dismemberment. Gratuitous violence seems to be the order of the day, and in Oakville – it was yesterday.

Long story short (I have real work to do) crew of landscapers are working at a job site at Lakeshore and Navy Street near Sharkey’s. Female landscaper makes comment to male landscaper who also happens to be doing treework with a loud, smoking Husqvarna. Male landscaper loses his sheehiznit and buries chainsaw in female landscaper’s back. Read it for yourself here.

I also find it odd that Gazza submitted this story, and was recently photographed with the chainsaw man himself, Leatherface. And by odd I mean really disturbing.