Tag Archives: Last Cat

Last Cat On Mars Presents: A Tale of Feathers and Gills

On such a momentous day (the 2016 US Pestilential, sorry, Presidential election), perhaps we could all benefit from cooling off down south with our Antarctic friends (and a polar bear visiting from the Arctic), however misguided they may be in the matter of parental origins. Enjoy it now, friends, because the times are truly changing.

Baby penguins imprinting on Last Cat On Mars

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Last Cat On Mars Presents: Where is the Mars lander Schiaparelli? Huh? Where?

The wonderful people at the European Space Agency in Darmstadt, Germany are a bit sad, but hopeful, just as I am hopeful for my shiny (and rather glary) new friend, Schiaparelli lander’s recovery. It’s touch and go, and yes, the chocolate bars helped, but you can never be certain on the Red planet, especially with all these jostling space-o-nauts scurrying around and recklessly stealing tuna pies.

In the meantime, my dearest Earth peeps, keep dreaming of Martian playing fields just as I dream of my feline ancestors who lived a mere furball’s toss up the A5 from Darmstadt, in Frankfurt am Main. Many are the imaginary plates of tuna-wurst helpfully digested with a litre or three of catnip schnaps I’ve shared with my great-great grandparents, Charles Gustav and Margaret (or Meowgaret, as she was known in the family). Ah, those could have been the days but for pesky physics. Dream on.

Mars lander Schiaparelli receiving therapy from Last Cat On Mars at the Mars Mean Machine Rally

Last Cat On Mars Presents: Where Cowboys Go When The Wild West Wanes

Didn’t every kitten play cowboys and aliens and lemonade stands and baguettes with their siblings and neighbouring cats of all the lovely varieties under the Martian sun? I know I did.

So it was no surprise at all to find this gaggle of upstanding equines and not-terribly-wild westerners discussing the important thing in life: hats and their place in the synchronised scheme of things.

Also, tuna-flavoured lemonade – the next big thing at your nearest pretentious cafe – move over coconut butter latte frappe-cino with hundreds and thousands, your time is up.

Where Cowboys Go When the Wild West Wanes - cowboys and an alien with Last Cat discussing their hats

Last Cat On Mars Presents: Le Trippe De France – Let the Tour Baguette, Or Something

Hey there fans of Le Tour, which has just this very last few days, hours, minutes, or whenever, begun. I only watch it for the recipes, as you well know, but seeing as how I originally hail from sunny, banana-y Queensland before the Martian residentiality (where I don’t have to vote, hahahahaha) I thought we’d start it off in style, with technology on parade, and in heaps.

And while the opportunity presents, may I offer my sincere (not really – tee hee) condolences to those of you in Ozland who await the outcome of our latest democratic shenanigans – criticise it if you must, but remember Churchill, who said something like: Democracy is the worst possible system of government – except for all the others. Stay faithful, comrades and remember, vote early, vote often.

Riderless bicycles and radioactive bananas

Last Cat On Mars Presents: All Letters Deserve Equality, Even ‘Z’

Or one might even say, especially good old ‘Z,’ toiling away there at the end of the alphabet, never complaining, just zigging and zagging around as though it was the commonest letter ever.

No airs and graces for ‘Z’, no indeedy, particularly as there’s no ‘z’ in either airs or graces. So many silly jokes, so little time, so little patience. Never mind. Go well, friends, and enjoy all the scrumptious letters of our superb language, especially those that create syzygy. Treat yourself to a syzygy viewing sometime soon, just because.

Delivery of many letters (Scrabble) by the postal service

Last Cat On Mars Presents: Easter Sunday – Fun For All The Family, or Just Another Day in Crazytown?

It could be the chocolate fondue fountain, it could be the incessant grating of carrots, it could be the groans from Apocalypse Soon, or it could be that Dr On Mars has been watching far too many ancient Greco-Roman-Kebab-a-rama-BBQ-tuna-esque tall tales beamed in by satellite from the back of a semi-trailer three-point-five kilometres south of Broken Hill. Just sayin’. Soooo, anyway, enjoy your Easter Sunday, friends, and all the hot cross bunnies you can eat, or kiss better – they’re crabby little buggers, aren’t they?

Easter Bunnies, Easter Sunday, and Last Cat

Last Cat On Mars Presents: A Delicate Moment

Who doesn’t love a zombie? No, really, who? I try not to watch The Walking Dead but it’s like a train wreck, I cannot look away despite the nightmares and an overwhelming desire to nail the doors and windows shut and enrol in the Katanas for Fun, Pleasure and Self-Defence course at the Martian Club. So anyhoo, tuna brains – anyone tried them lately. No, me neither. Let’s all go out for beer and crackers and some crunchy cheese toast afterwards. Love, Last & All Zombie Associates xox

A zombie walks into a bar