sackofcatfood

Let’s meet some more IMAO readers. Today, it’s sackofcatfood.

What’s the story behind your name? It came to me in a vision. A vision involving my four cats try to nibble through my skin to the delicious meet therein contained at three in the morning.
Where do you live? Albuquerque, New Mexico, on holidays and weekends; Socorro, New Mexico during school. (the venerable geekdom of New Mexico Tech)
How old are you? I am one-and-twenty years of age.
Tell us briefly about yourself. As a child, I was abandoned and raised by a roaming pack of wolves, er, I mean, lawyers. The lawyers raised me as one of their own. They taught me to scavenge for old people’s retirement funds, to use legal loopholes to my advantage, and to never represent Martha Stewart, even if the jury looks like a complete pushover.
As I grew, the other lawyers began to notice that I wasn’t like them, and so did I. While the other lawyer-cubs grew into lawyers, I grew into a human being. So I left my adopted family to find my own path in life.
It was about this time that the Mongols invaded Manchuria. They had a big dog which barked all night. It looked like China would be doomed for sure, then I had a brilliant idea. I told the Chinese to collect all of their unused rocks and pile them in a giant wall around their lands. It worked perfectly: that stupid dog couldn’t get in and we all finally got some sleep.
This worked out great until some Japanese guys accidentally threw their frisbee over the wall. The Chinese refused to give it back, so the Japanese decided to invade China like a bazillion times over the next two thousand years looking for it. They never did find it, and on top of that they got nuked TWICE, but then they invented Anime, so I guess that makes them even with the rest of us.
I didn’t stick around for all that. I decided to leave for England, on account of the only language I knew was English, and I was getting tired of waving my hands at people like a drunk New York cabbie every time I wanted to have a conversation.
The guy in charge of England was pretty cool. Some chap named Arthur. He had a sword he’d stolen from some lady made out of water, and was always swinging it around and accidentally smashing royal vases and whatnot, especially when we played tag. One time we were playing tag and he ran into his royal knights’ table and hurt his side on a corner. I suggested that he should shave off the corners and make it round, which he did.
Also while in England I met some dude named Shakespeare. He was in university and just about ready to fail his English class. I thought he seemed like a swell fellow, so I gave him some old plays and sonnets that I’d written to help him get through the course. Turned out pretty well for him.
A little later, however, some of my friends in the church were having a tough time with the government… you know, outstanding parking tickets or something. I advised them to flee across the ocean on rickety old ships with little food and faulty navigation equipment. Under my guidance, they eventually had a thriving colonial economy. I invented a type of de-carbonated mountain dew which I called “tea.” This went over quite well with them, and also our old friends in Britain. Then the British people got all uppity and started charging us money for it and stationing troops in our houses and all sorts of stupid stuff. So we shot them and they left.
About this time, I went into realestate. Property is a great investment to make. I told all the presidents this. “Manifest destiny,” I called it. It caught on with the Americans. Not so much with the Mexicans. Hehehe, I tricked some guys who called themselves “Canadians” into purchasing a vast wasteland of ice. They still haven’t realized they got ripped off.
Wouldn’t you know it, though, those folks in England couldn’t stay out of trouble. They got in some huge war with a bunch of other countries. TWICE. The first time I let them handle it on their own. The second time, things got kind of tricky.
This guy name Hitler had allied with this guy named Stalin. They were both dictators (you could tell because they had mustaches). Hitler’s mustache was pretty powerful, but midway into the war it became apparent that he would need to supplement its power with many natural resources in order to win. So he foolishly decided to invade Russia to augment his supplies. Unfortunately, Stalin’s mustache proved much too powerful, and soon glorious Soviet soldiers were marching on Munich.
Sadly, Stalin’s mustache began to corrupt him, and he decided to try to take over the world. I ran back to the United States where I helped them develop a solid nuclear program and deterrent military force. Stalin was like “Ah, crap!” and eventually died and was put in a museum some place.
After that, I hung out, grew a fro, partied through the 90’s, and now I’m a college student at New Mexico Tech where I make everybody’s day brighter and more merry. 🙂
Until the day I burn down my dorm.
[“Briefly” must mean something different when translated to crazy. -Ed.]
How long have you been reading IMAO? 2003? I know I lamented missing some of your earlier stuff but I was around for Bush running against that French guy.
What’s your favorite IMAO post? Definitely your editorial by Allah. The running insinuation that Allah is actually Jewish makes for possibly the best piece of satire since A Modest Proposal.
If you were to describe IMAO in three words, what would those be? sui generis, cynosure, octothorpe
What’s your favorite political issue? Free trade. I’m the sort of sadistic person who thinks nothing’s funnier than luring a nutroot into a political argument only to transform it into a discussion about differential equations.
Do you have a website? If so, please tell us briefly about it. http://sackofcatfood.blogspot.com/
It was mish-mash.info until I became too poor to afford hosting.
It is a silly place.
If you can plant any question in a Hillary Clinton audience, what would it be? Mrs. Clinton, is it true that you are actually too fat for that dress you are wearing, and are, in effect, at this very moment, engaged in an epic battle of will to restrain your pudgy gut from causing an explosion of sequins? DON’T LIE TO ME FATTY!

If you commented in the last post asking for entrants, you’re still in the running. Thanks to everyone who has participated thus far; just because you may not think you’re interesting doesn’t mean we won’t enjoy your story.