Meet Sanchez, the fluffy, bewhiskered harbinger of the apocolypse

"Whenever I open a beverage, I end up pouring most of it on the ground in respect to my dead hommies, all of whom are cats. They have ridiculous names like Tweeky, Heiney, Sophie, Princess, Rex, Tonya, Squirt. As I perform this ritual, my heart burns with sadness, and not all of it is from the fact that I'm about to pour 4/5th of an otherwise perfectly good beer onto the middle of my otherwise perfectly clean kitchen floor. My heart burns for Squirt."

Before I get too emotional about my departed cat Squirt, I should mention that Squirt was actually a dog. I really have never had much use for cats, but in my life I have owned enough of them to start a basketball team. A really, spastic and disorganized basketball team that refuses to play defense. Cats just turn up and I end up housing them and giving them the requisite series of injections that, by their price, may as well be filled with uncut, white-china heroin. They're not, I looked into it. The bottom line is that cats, or at least vaccinated cats, are damn expensive and-- if they're like Tweeky, Heiney, Sophie, Princess, Rex, or Tonya-- die very suddenly.

Go to Big Head Bad Hair for the rest. It's FUNNY!