The truth about cats and dogs

Paris has a cat-lady and a dog-lady. I can understand this because I travel with a sack of cheap catfood in case we encounter any strays. I can't stand to see starving animals. But...

The cat-lady is an old woman who lives on the south side of town. She shuffles up and down the streets with a bag of MeowMix, clad in housecoat and fuzzy slippers. The cats in the neighborhood pace alongside her, tails waving in the air as they anticipate the offerings to be placed near where they live.

Dog-lady lives on the northside, in a dreadful little stucco surrounded by pens filled with dogs. She's a different sort, college graduate--indeed, rumored to have a high IQ, but seemingly beyond reason, or basic manners. She buys incredible things to feed "her" dogs, like grocery-carts full of weiners, or the best dogfood possible: Eukanuba, anyone? She wears the same clothes for days on end, sweats caked with mud and filth from where-ever. And in the summer she frequently goes nude.

But the dogs eat well. And so do the cats.

Relativity reducer ray

Husband is watching an old Superman serial on TV, the kind he used to watch at the theater when he was a child. (Well, I did too, but not as much) Summer matinees featured at least two films, cartoons, a newsreel, and an episode or two of a serial. Little did we kids know it was just glorified babysitting.

He and I were laughing at the dialog, and perfect hats Clark and Lois sported, regardless of how much they'd just been through. Still, it beats the gore and mess of the present cinematography.
Kill Bill, anyone? Brrr.