12 Days of Christmas - Day 8: meow bless us every meow

Another Thursday, another snowstorm. The commute this time out was a breeze, as everyone took the lessons of the previous Thursday to heart and stayed home -- an idea I could totally get behind, if it wasn't for my wife's troubling work ethic. As it was, we made better time getting home last night than we do on a snow-free evening commute, meaning that we got back to Mt. Misery with time to spare...time which was spent shoveling out the driveway and steps from the foot of snow dumped since we left yesterday morning, but still...

I was clearing off the path down to the backyard when Scraggly mysteriously appeared at my feet. Scraggly (a.k.a. Mr. Scraggles) is a solitary soul who belongs to none of the local feral cat colonies, but chooses to go it alone. He's a frequent enough visitor to our house, as he knows we can be relied upon to provide him with a heaping bowl of dry kibble, chicken, and Fancy Feast whenever he turns up.

Unfortunately he's a cagey bastard with an intuitive knowledge of when the folks who spay and neuter ferals make their rounds, though that has been mitigated by our success in getting the female feral population in our vicinity successfully spayed (but not before he put Nubby, our feral-turned-house cat, in the family way a couple of years ago. CooCoo the Marshmallow Ninja is a dead ringer for her deadbeat dad. Jem, not so much.)

I was surprised by Scraggly's appearance last night because he tends to lie low during bad weather, especially when the snow blocks the gap in the back fence he uses as an access route. (We try to keep it clear, but it's difficult to do during ongoing storms. The other day my wife had to walk around the other side of the block to guide one of our lost and crying feral colony members home.) He watched me shovel out the path while waiting for my wife to bring him out his dinner. Once he was finished filling his belly, he turned and headed off down the hillside, leaving behind a trail of footprints in the snow (but no pregnant female cats, thank Providence -- or rather "Thank the Woburn Feral Cat Coalition").

Stiff Little Fingers - White Christmas (Live) (from a 1980 single; collected on Punk Rock Christmas, 1995) - The first time I tried to buy this compilation (at the late, lamented Disc Diggers in Davis Square) I opened up the case in the Papa Gino's down the block only to discover that the disc inside was a Mariah Carey holiday single. A chunk of coal would have been preferable.

My first experience with SLF's material came from an import compliation of live punk tracks. I can't remember the name of the album, but it was pressed on what was intended to be multicolored vinyl, but instead looked like someone puked a mass of half-digested gummy bears on the turntable. While most of the material on the collection was of pretty lousy aesthetic and sound quality, the live version of "Alterative Ulster" included on it was nothing short of outstanding -- rip-snortin' agit-prop punk that held together beautifully in a live performance (a sad-rarity, I hate to say). I shortly afterward picked up the band's Hanx LP, which offered more in-concert punky goodness.

I eventually located a copy of Inflammable Material, the band's debut LP. I expected the world of it based on my previous experiences, but it sounded oddly flat to me; overly produced and studio laminated, possessing none of the jagged yet focused rawness that originally attracted me to SLF. It wasn't that the album wasn't good, but my frame of reference for hearing the songs was centered around the live renditions, and couldn't be budged.

So in honor of Irving Berlin, Mr. Scraggles, and the ghost of Punk-mases past, here's a bit of live holiday cheer for your seasonal enjoyment. It starts rather shambolically, but pays off in spades by the song's end.

is truly outrageous, truly truly truly outrageous

This is Jem, who has recently decided that I’m his bestest friend in the whole wide world. Unlike the other members of his extended feline family, who are content to express affection for their humans in a more mellow fashion, Jem is a cat of action and expects “Boy” to respond in kind to his current obsessions.

His name came from the white spot between his eyes, which I thought looked like a diamond when he was a newborn kitten, hence “Gem.” My wife changed the spelling to “Jem” when filling out paperwork at the vet’s office, most likely because she was thinking of Jem Finer of The Pogues. He also responds to Jemma, Jembo, JemJam, and “AAAAARGH! Those are my toes, dammit!”

I’ve seen other bloggers ghostwrite cutesy posts from their pets’ point of view. Since I pride myself for keeping things authentic here at Armagideon Time, I’d be uncomfortable putting words into Jem’s tiny mouth. He’s a very clever cat. Why couldn’t he express himself in his own words?

It wasn’t easy getting the little fellow to the keyboard. The first time I tried, he got distracted by some cobwebs on the ceiling, and proceeded to tug at my shirttails and cry until I lifted him up so he could swat at it.

Then he kept dropping a balled up twist tie at my feet in order to let me know it was time for some cat soccer practice. His goal tending skills are remarkable, and mid-air catches are his specialty. Another couple of weeks of drills, and he’ll be ready to sign with Real Madrid.

When Jem finally made it to the keyboard, he managed to type this:

Fdsifjsojvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

;[ppoo[[[[[[[[[[[

AdsfDSAEDWSADEWFRWFEP;SQW qhasjkfspgspo

…before he somehow stumbled across a hotkey combination that reset all my display settings. While I was trying to fix the problem, he snatched my Iron Fist Minimates figure off of the computer desk and ran downstairs with it. A mad chase ensued, first with Jem, and then with Addy the beagle-boxer, who picked up the figure after Jem dropped it under the dining table.

So ends that experiment. Next time, I’m going to get one of my wife’s pet turtles to co-host instead.

Jem and The Holograms – Theme From Jem – I never even made the connection between Jem the cat and Jem the cartoon until a couple months ago. Since then, I’ve found myself singing the theme to him whenever he’s engaged in his usual antics. Freezepop added a cute cover version of the song as a hidden track on 2004’s Fancy Ultra Fresh album.

The Cure – The Lovecats (from a 1983 single, collected on Japanese Whispers, 1983) – This song is the end of the road as far as my interest in The Cure goes. The Top was an interesting, trippy failure, but it all went careening downhill from there.