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from: rat killer
dialup252-218.dotcomisp.net
http://www.popeye-x.com/tech/studio_rat.htm This little girl brought me many rats, most of the time they were deceased, she always bit them on the neck where she felt a pulse. They'd have one tiny little drop of dried blood from the wound, and you couldn't even see the hole, just the little leak. Her brother Buddy brought me many as well, but they were always half eaten, usually about 45% of a rat, with the juicy parts missing. One time I woke up and there was an incredibly macabre rat fraction, he was mostly blood and exposed gore, like a little horror flick cadaver. It was laying in my bed, about a foot from my face. One day, Babycat came in very excited, she had a fat rat in her mouth, and it was very much alive. She came in and dropped it off, and ran out the door. It immediately ran behind my row of guitar amplifiers, and kept moving. I had hell of a time catching that filthy bastard. I was so stressed out, I remember breaking out in a really annoying sweat, just from the heat of a light bulb in a lamp. I finally wised up and got a piece of 8 ft 3/8 inch rebar to use for a spear. THE ONLY WAY TO GO in a music studio. I got good at it, I'd see the lil' bastard thru a crack in the speaker cabinets or under a rack and I'd spear him instantly. The roughness of the rebar made it real easy to stick it right thru the rat and kill it, then I'd slowly draw it back and the rat would come with it, plus, I'd still be 8 ft. away from it the whole time I was tossing it. When I came out, covered in sweat with a dead rat dangling from my studio rat killing spear, Babycat was actually right outside the door, and when I came out, she tossed ANOTHER rat up in the air with one hand and then did a very dramatic baseball player dive to catch it with her other hand. It was like she was showing off by juggling rats and playing catch with herself. Buddy like to use mice for handballs. He'd catch one and play with it for 6 hours, I watched him, he wasn't using his claws, rather he would whack the mouse (not a rat, smaller) with the heel of his hand, like you'd hit a handball, and it would send the mouse a good six to eight feet, just flying and rolling helplessly. After an hour of this treatment a mouse gets "punch drunk", they can't even run away, or stand up. I'd come out and Buddy would do a championship "serve" to show me how far he could slap a mouse and then recatch it. Finally he'd get lazy, and rather than let it go, he'd eat the mouse just like it was a candy bar for cats. Just a little snack held with one paw and some claws, eaten like a kid would eat an ice cream cone, with great relish, and he didn't like to share until the liver and lungs and brain and heart were gone, he'd leave the guts and the kidneys and the mouse's ass. Buddy wasn't a serious hunterm though, he only did it to show off to me, whereas Babycat was strictky serious cat business when it came to a mouse, a rat, a bird, a lizard , or a bug... they ALL died, I NEVER saw one get away, not even once. Buddy lost them all the time. Sometimes a rat would run by and he'd look at it amd kind of shrug like: "So what? I'm not eating that piece of shit when I can eat all t he chicken I want off of my Daddy's plate any time I want." Babycat hardly ever ate her victims, to her it was a matter of trespassing on her turf, and she had a strict zero tolerance of any kind of critter, no matter what it was, it HAD to die. Buddy's only thrill in hunting was when a bird would come in the house. He was real skinny, like a few sticks tied together, and that skinny fucker could climb thru mid-air and jump real high. Many times I saw him scrambling up the side of NOTHING up near the ceiling and he'd pluck a bird out of the air with one hand, like David Robinson with a basketball. Buddy's whole ethic was based on showing off how fast he could RUN. To him, running real fast and covering a lot of ground in a split second was the deal, he'd always include something vertical in his path just to show me that he could go up just as well as he could run along the ground. That cat would take a running start and go straight up the side of a tree and onto the roof of the house, running about 30 miles per hour, just a streak, and then he'd reach his destination and flop down with this lazy attitude like he wasn't even trying very hard, just mainly showing me how FAST he could get from here to there . He would never lift a finger to catch a rat hauling ass, but he loved to see me from far off and come running like a bat out of hell. He could cover some ground, but he was always running to some leisurely spot where he'd either eat my food, or flop down and take a nap in the middle of whatever was going on. Babycat was a different personality. She was chunkier in stature and very bashful. She liked sticking by me all the time and kind of hiding under or behind something nearby. She'd keep a distance of a bout 8 feet from most people except me, she liked to have a head start. Most of the time no one knew she was there except me. She liked to hide on the sideline and she'd just stare at Buddy, watching for cues. Buddy was always the center of any food act iviity. The other cats didn't watch me, even if I had a sandwich in my hand, they'd watch Buddy, because they knew he always was first in line for any treats coming from Daddy, he was Daddy's special boy, you know, I considered him my "son". The reason I named him Buddy ius because his whole life, all he ever wanted to do is hang out with me and do whatever I'm doing. He considered it what "we" were doing. He was a classic studio saboteur cat, in the vein of Missy Cat, jut a constant terrorist and creator of disorder and pointless acrobatics on my equipment, I think Buddy sabotaged every recording session I ever attempted, he'd reprogram buttons like Missy. Missy is absolutely insane abot that shit. I finally start yelling, "Would you please STOP IT? What the fuck are you doing?" "o be a cat and stay off my fucking equipment!" CATCH A MOUSE. They always run for their lives with their ears pinned back in a V on their heads. 5 minutes later, here they come again like nothing happened. Thsi is their way of getting attention when all else fails. Babycat never did that shit. She was always perfectly behaved, so I know damn well the terrorist types are doing it deliberately, as a game. Missy is the worst I've ever seen. She starts LEANING towards where I don't want her to go, pushing against my arms trying to hold her back before she destroys hours of synth programming with one step. That damn cat will run across my mixer and step in 2 or 3 solo or mute buttons every 5 fucking minutes, you jave to know your equipment because its a constant hallenge of the sound suddenly going off and you have to find out WHY? Its the delicate synth tweaking, where one pass acrosss the buttons will change every other syth connected to it, and it takes quite a bit of memory and searching to get back to where I was. Missy will attack and ruin take after take after take, just passing thru on the way to that table I DON'T want her running across AT ALL. She's going to knock ovber some expensive stuff that;s not bolted down. She just HAS to walk across my various workspaces, I don't know WHY. She is hell bent for it and she will NOT stop, she will learn to walk on the half inch of edge space on the keyboards and delicately step across my knobs, but she will not relent crossing my most critical spaces, all day long , every goddamn day of the world. Its only about 8 square feet total, out of over a 1000' square feet in this building to roam around in. No, she has to be right where I don't need and animal to be. It pisses me off like shit because Babycat showed me the truth by NEVER EVER getting under my feet or in my way or on my keys. Her whole life, she only stole food one time, and it was a piece of white bread from Bill Miller's BBQ and she ate a tiny fingertip sized hole in the piece of bread and that's it, and she was here for 13 years. Buddy stole food every day of his life, he loves to steal, he'd rahter eat anything stolen over something tasting much better that was given to him. He was like Bob Cox. Totally selfish and enchanted by his own greed and indulgence in doing wrong just for the sake of doing wrong, he didn't even want what he was stealing, he just loved the thrill of taking what's not his, even though he had no use for it, nor did it even cross his mind that he had no use for it. Why want something you don't want? Because its NOT YOURS, and that's all that matters to a selfish son of a bitch. He doesn't even want to HAVE it , he just wants to take it. I have never understood why that makes them feel like they're really getting MORE, they don't WANT what they steal. They already have what they;re stealing and much more, but they will literally risk their life in the effort to steal, it just makes them feel like they're winning something, who knows what it is? To me its just useless greed, its like being jealous of someone who is worse off than you, it makes no sense. I'm not even jealous of someone who is luckier than me, I just don't care about what others do, say, or have, it makes no difference to me at all. I'm not like Mike Taylor or Steve Cureton, who think someone who invests in himself has disposable income tha they deserve to waste on themselves, too. They would never spend their own money paying for things unless there's a guranteed payback up front. The reason is simple. They KNOW they aren't worth investing their own money in. I've always spent MOST of my money on outrageous things I want, I don't give a FUCK about guarantees, I've got a guarantee of my own which is this: Nobody is going to give me anything unless I give it to myself, and I'm not waitng around for permission or even some help about anything, I don't have time to do things like be an audio engineer who never owned a tape recorder in his life, wishing he was a big shot around town on the scene, just waiting around for the whole town to get on their knees and do everything for me for free because I'm so wonderful and socially relevant. I tell EVERYBODY in my way to step the fuck aside or be run over with no regrets. I'm not depending on ANYONE to do anything for me, I'm going much much faster than they could ever handle, I know where to BUY hthe cat food AND the can openers, no I don't know where any of mine are, I just go buy more and not waste time trying to be orderly and organized. Why bother? In the end, it ALWAYS turns out to be some lazy asshole like Steve Cureton or Mike Talyor has borrowed it from me and conveniently KEPT it, even though they have more money than me. You see, they're SAVING their money for more important things like cigarettes and cocaine for drugged out sluts and playing the big shot, buying rounds of drinks and vacationing in Cancun with someone else's wife, you know... STEALING for the sake of STEALING, its not anything they really want or need or can use. Its not even a chewed up rat with only intestines and a bladder. Because you see. the the REAL rat is themselves.... and Babycat and ME are looking for their jugular veins at this very moment. See this LINK: http://www.popeye-x.com/tech/studio_rat.htm That thing was as big as my foot. HUGE. Its fur reminded me of a possum. Its tail was swarthy and thick
ANTI POPEYE X FAN CLUB
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