Tag Archives: cartoon

Last Cat On Mars Presents: Origins OR Where In The Leggy, Heady, Arm-y, Wiggy World Did I Come From Professorial Parents and other Dear Departmental Heads – #5

When I was a graduate student at Pranceton, I well remember the Snarkinpiffle brothers. They were an unfortunate mix of stumbling, bumbling, cat tail stomping dunderheads with genius level IQs. I have no sympathy whatsoever for Helen – she should know by now what my sainted mother, Mrs On Mars taught me, Never work with siblings and never work without tuna crisps.

A professor in her lab attempting to create humans despite her incompetent assistants

Last Cat On Mars Presents: Origins OR Where In Legless Legumia Did I Come From Oh Podless Podcastoff Parental Types – #4: Rory the Head Cyclist is Kidding

While I sympathise with the peladophobics of the world, I’m not one to spend my time doing anything but grooming my luxurious fur coat. Fortunately, I am not now, nor was I ever, a doraphobe, nor an ichthyophobe – for someone of my species, that would be, well, unacceptable, also chilly, and hungry-making much. My gratitude knows no bounds.

Pod people growing from pea pods to adulthood section by section

Last Cat On Mars Presents: A Question Of Interpretation

I would simply like to point out that Jibber Jabber is a preferred language at the Ye Olde Mars-y Tavern, Bistro, Grill & Tuna Tagine on the shores of the beautiful Erythraean Sea here on the fourth rock. Especially after midnight.

Man lecturing on jibber jabber the indispensable language of the century

Last Cat On Mars Presents: Origins OR Where for Glory’s Sake Did I Come From, Delightful Panna Cotta Papa and Mama and/or Ice-Creamy Custardy Carers – #3: What With All The Climate Change

While I’m the last to approve of babies in cold places without their soft little bunny rugs, it appears that some babies thrive in such environments, even when they are wearing stolen hats that are possibly a tad too large for them. Warm, though.

It may be the case that when I was but a teeny, tiny kitten, I thought the Abominable Snowman was actually the Abdominal Snowman – a common misinterpretation, and loss of a syllable, from what I’ve heard.

But, even so, and however, and yeti I say unto you, would it not be far more enjoyable to be discussing haute cuisine and cucina culture with an expert so expert she or he was named for it? In the early days, I called it the Abdominal Identity. As time went by, it morphed into The Abdominal Supremacy, then the  Abdominal Ultimatum (it was often given to hyperbolic tendencies), and finaly, naturally, the Abdominal Legacy.

I must say that’s an awful lot of abdominal tuna under the bridge, folks.

Abominable snowmen and babies growing in a freezer

Last Cat On Mars Presents: When Poles Collide Don’t Poke The Bear

If I hear one more word about the wonderful marvelosity of coal-fired power stations, I’m firing the utterererer. “You’re fired,” I shall say, and I shall say it to him, no matter how lovely his head of melting orange tuna bake may be.

Polar bear, penguin, and camel at the North Pole together enjoying climate change