The “Shorty Awards”, i.e., the Shorties, arose out of nowhere late last year to declare themselves the defacto place for awards for twittering. “Awards for twittering”, you muse, munching on your kibble or whatever passes for kibble in your region. “That sounds entirely vain and silly.”
Vain and silly, of course, are a cat’s stock in trade. It really is, at the end of the day, about ourselves, and we’ll do what makes the most efficient path to self-aggrandizement.
With that in mind, legions of Socks fans heard his little shout and nominated Socks up through to the ranks of top-five “humor” twitterers for the Shorties. He is now locked in a battle of sorts, a battle that only the Internet could summon: between himself, Darth Vader, a viral video maker, a guy named Joe, and “fake Sarah Palin”. Quite a motley crew indeed.
This battle is, of course, meaningless, a popularity contest based on who has the most effective means to convince twitter users to write a random line into their feeds. Some are more than willing; others not so much. Don’t for a moment think this affects Socks or his life in any way; the legions of followers, fans, and curious onlookers seem to keep the little dope quite happy. And speaking of dope, the mailed-in cat toys have assisted as well. I don’t know how he makes it down the stairs some nights…
To any extent, it is my opinion that there would be something inherently hilarious in his winning. The heady weight would fall upon myself and Fatty Food Guy to provide a proper reward for all this, and while the jury is still out on what that will be, we will likely solicit your opinion for what such a reward may consist of. In the meantime…
Simply click on this link and your message will be sent to the nib-nobs at the Shorties (really some sort of PR firm) that you wish Socks to be the dominant “winner” in this fixed race. It would be entertaining, nay, enchanting, if he got 1000 votes from his nearly five thousand followers. It’s not much in the grand scheme of life (give me a good litterbox and some chicken anytime) but it would, I hope you agree, be pleasant.
Ah, some errant yarn threads are calling me, so I thank you for your time in either case. Adieu.
In lieu of composing a new Socks theme, Lucy The Cat has provided me with some alternate lyrics to an already extant song. I am quite at peace with this; creativity in all its forms is delightful, especially by cats.
The Sockington Song
By Lucy_Cat
(Sung to the tune of “I Love Rock N Roll” by Joan Jett & The Blackhearts)
Saw him lounging there looking slightly mean
Knew he was pretty anal ’bout keepin clean
His tail was swishin strong
Mewed my favorite song
An I could tell it wouldn’t be long
Till he was sheddin on me, yeah me, wailing
I love Sock-ing-ton!
So put some more food in my bowl, baby
I love Sock-ing-ton!
So gimme more food and let me be!
He purred so I got up and offered my hand
That won’t do it, he said,
I got more demands
First I need a home, a base from which to roam
And next thing he was on
Was on top of me, yeah me,
Next thing he was on
Was on top of me, yeah me, wailing
I love Sock-ing-ton
So put some more food in my bowl, baby
I love Sock-ing-ton
So gimme more food and let me be
I love Sock-ing-ton
Just ignore Penny and come pet me!
It appears that Socks’ whiny demand for a theme song has come true. One Samantha the Cat has gone well above and beyond the pale and written this theme song.
To be honest, I think it captures the little scamp just perfectly.
OK, this time we have photographic proof. Bear with me.
A delightful lady was kind enough to send myself and socks some catnip bags. Note that clearly: both of us. She sent a pink and a blue one, and specifically mentioned the pink one was for me.
But mere seconds after it arrives, guess who has the package to himself:
And then, off he goes, divebombing in.
And I want to point out, steals my toy.
Caught! And the best part of it all, he knows we know! Look at this:
Those dreamy eyes don’t work on me, buster.
So I finally show up and I am ticked.
Also, unlike Socks, I can read. So I checked out the nice card:
“From @Kaugomu (Courtney) and her kitties Newton, DC and Cthulu: Let us rejoice on the day Christ was born. Merry Christmas.”
Aww, thank you.
And then:
NOW HE’S BACK AGAIN! GAHH! I HATE HIM SO MUCH!
So there you have it. Proof he’s a jerk. And you all thought he was cute as a button, I’m sure.
Well, it appears Mr. Deep-Pools-Of-Sadness-In-My-Eyes has yet another place to get fans: If you use the social networking site Facebook, there is now a Sockington Fan Club. What this could possibly do to make your life better is beyond me, but whatever the herd wants, I guess.
Speaking of which, there’s been the occasional hilarious call for Sockington-related merchandise, or even merchandise involving… me. I suppose there’s some sort of urge by people, when they enjoy some event, club, or cat, to want to have an item commemorating it. Therefore, I am proposing armbands.
They would probably say SOCKS ARMY or something. I have to actually figure out details with someone who actually carries a wallet. But somehow this seems at least vaguely relevant on two fronts: t-shirts are just more needless waste of fabric, and armbands are vaguely fascist, just like Socks and his Cult of Lack of Personality. They creep people out and yet they’re also easy to store or wear to socially awkward occasions.
I’ll take any commentary and thoughts in the comments.
Also, I wish someone would top off my food dish. Turkey, please.
Due to overwhelming interest about Socks, this website has now been set up. I’ll be administrating this website in between mealtimes and mostly focusing on the important news, like whether everyone’s going to wise up and kick the little loafer out of my house. I mean, please, spare me. He’s got the looks and charm but inside? Zero, nada. Half the time he forgets he’s eating. It’s sad (although I do get the food he forgets). Can you imagine he started out as a street urchin? Woe to whatever Fagin was going to be his ward; he couldn’t con water into being wet. Ugh, water.
Anyway, we’ll see how this all goes. Commentary from the crowds are always invited, and please, remember that this kitty has claws, so hold off on your cynicism. We’re cats. We’re so far ahead of you on Cynic Mountain that we’re cooking fish and pitching tents up there before you even get up in the morning. Let’s keep it fun.
Socks and Penny receive excellent medical care at the Weston Veterinary Clinic in Weston, MA, under the care of Dr. Neil Storey and the rest of the top-notch staff.
