Feed your cat promptly, with the best quality tuna, or other delicious meaty protein of her/his choice.
Just … feed your cat, peeps.
As a violent pacifist, I sympathise with Linda, and all of us, really, we, the many pawns of the universe, all of us made from atoms billions of years old already. You’d think they would have acquired enough wisdom by now to have nothing to do with war and mayhem. Hmmph – evolution, so protonically, neutronically, electronically slow.
Not to be judgmental, but I’m hoping that gang of peeps isn’t one of our Martian mining cohorts. On the other hand, they seem like a jolly lot, willing to ride on any passing vehicle or hayride. And, to be fair, they are looking for a musical bandwagon, rather than a bandwagon of trends and popularity, and anyone who searches for music is okay in my book, and also in my litterbox, my comfy doona, and upon my breezy, red-dusty veranda.
We are really getting into, and onto, sculpture, here on Mars, and we hope you like it very much. Otherwise, well, like it anyway, there’s nothing to dislike, really, about modern sculpture. After all, who knows anything about it or why it even exists except to make us all feel calm and happy after a long, hard day at the solar-face (which is gradually replacing the coal-face, though you will work no less hardly, harder, hard, like very squashed coal). There are diamonds here somewhere.
Since time immemorial (whatever that means), we have all searched for comfort. The humble couch is the answer, as we all know, or should. So next time you need a break, get the chocolate, the chocolate tuna, and the other tasty TV treats and don’t bench yourself, couch yourself, in glowing terms as well. Enjoy, and you’re welcome.
It’s true that it’s quite difficult to get lost on Mars. After all, Mars is only a bit more than half the size of Earth, there are no oceans to sail, and its mass (whatever that is, hahahahah) is almost 10 times less than Earth’s’s’s’s (and made of tuna – no, really!!). Getting around is a much lighter affair on Mars, too, and we all make merry lollygagging around leaping to and fro, and so on, and etcetera – you know the krill, sorry, drill.