Author Jay Sturner

Cats rule! Dogs… not so much. Here is why: Cats are soft and fragrant. Dogs are smelly mud puddles with feet. Cats only meow when necessary, unlike dogs, who bark FOREVER. Cat farts are quiet, very low on the decibel level, and they actually make the air fresher. Dog farts are clouds of toxic gas that kill surrounding vegetation. Cats don't run in circles and make goofy faces when served food; they thank you with tender body rubs against the leg, then go and eat like a normal person. They are clean; they sometimes lick butt, but their tongues never smell butty. Dogs, on the other hand, smell exactly the same at both ends. If a cat knocks your beer over, it's on purpose, which shows intelligence. When a dog does that, it's because he's chasing an invisible squirrel. Cats can catch and torture fish. Dogs chase sticks and bring them back. Wow? Cats poop carefully and without drama. When a cat sleeps on my lap, there is warm

He who is outside the realm of man suffers a deep, unrelenting misery. Left, for reasons known only to the gods, to ponder his existence within the cosmic fog outside space and time. To know only his purpose, his destiny, a task performed mindlessly and without pause. As a consequence, many questions relative to his plight arise but are never answered. He bears no recollection of birth, no sense of an earlier time or even of time itself, save for hints gleaned from the collective awareness of mankind as it fumbles through its existence. He is unable to interact with humans. Yet now and again come flashes of once having been human: a spear thrust into a mammoth, the eyes of a woman and child, his hand painting horses on a cave wall . . . and then, the sudden visitation of the gods. Adding to his misery is the probability that these flashes are nothing more than residual energies from the endless stream of souls passing through his bony fingers. Fingers that once painted, or so it