Tag Archives: Cats

CATS: Obsessed Ep 58

Cats! Without them the internet would LITERALLY be impossible! Recorded live at CONvergence sci-fi/fantasy convention, Joseph is joined by comedian Tim Wick and blogger/podcaster with the Skepchick network Rebecca Watson as we delve deep into the mystery of CATS. Topics include cat-spooning, cat emotions, cat sexuality, and more. PLUS, Tim and Rebecca indulge Joseph in a round of “Which fictional cat would win in a fight?” SPOILER: Hateful things are said about Garfield and Battle Cat from He-Man.

AWOOGA! Obsessed is now a part of Feral Audio! Go to Feral now to listen to this episode and subscribe for new ones!

Listen, rate, review, and subscribe to OBSESSED on iTunes.


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A Man and His Social Media Tweets

For more than a year I’ve been doing a series of daily tweets. First tacos, then monkeys, then daily affirmations, then daily etiquette tips, then incorrect quotes, then fake TV shows, horoscopeshorrorwriting tipsholiday tweetsresolution tweets, Hey Girl tweets, Urban Myth tweets, pastry tweets, boring tweets, and now social media tweets. Enjoy!

You can also follow me on Twitter to enjoy July’s series of Incorrect Fact tweets!

Day One – RT this tweet if you prefer favs. Fav if you prefer RTs.

Day Two – Sociopaths don’t understand emoticons 🙁

Day Three – Confuse your friends by inventing new acronyms like CYFBINA

Day Four – Twitter is a micro-blogging service that lets you tell friends what you’re doing instead of answering their emails.

Day Five – Sub-Reddit is the worst player character in all of the Mortal Kombat games.

Day Six – If you like something I say in person, please fav it. I have a tattoo of a small star on my left buttock. Thank you.

Day Seven – Google Plus still exists.

Day Eight – writing in small caps makes you seem like a serial killer BUT ALL CAPS MAKES YOU SEEM LIKE A HAPPY SERIAL KILLER!!!!

Day Nine – Top 3 things I say out loud when I hit send on a tweet: 1) Bam! 2) Fly, you fool! 3) Holy shit! What have I done?

Day Ten – Here’s all the other social media sites I’m on: Froolee, blubbr, tworkspaddle, crankhole, DickedOver, and alonester.

Day Eleven – It would be cool if Twitter handed out little check marks to users who are verified assholes.

Day Twelve – True story: Before I had a Facebook account, I had no idea cats existed.

Day Thirteen – If you printed out all my tweets and lined them up you would realize I’ve wasted my life.

Day Fourteen – At 12:01, Tumblr became sentient. At 12:02, Tumblr posted an animated gif about it. At 12:03, Tumblr shipped itself.

Day Fifteen – Other buttons Facebook should add: Dislike, Tolerate, Why, Nice Cat/Taco Pic, Jelly, Self-Destruct, Huzzah!

Day Sixteen – SOCIAL @media Pro-#Tip: get more http: http://followers.gov by #TWEETING *keywords* like pants, #PANTS, & %pants.

Day Seventeen – Of someone corrects you grammar’s ore spilling mistakes in social mediums, there not your’re friend!!!

Day Eighteen – You can now post animated gifs on twitter. Well, words, you had a good run. Bye.

Day Nineteen – Guide to Facebook invite responses. Yes = Maybe. Maybe = No Fucking Way. No = I’m Going To Burn Your House Down.

Day Twenty – Looking through my tweets I realize I haven’t mentioned Benedict Cumberbatch in over a week. My sincere apologies.

Day Twenty-One – True story: I put my phone in my pants and when I pulled it out, twitter had followed Shakira.

Day Twenty-Two – Just sent an invitation to all my friends on Facebook to stop playing Candy Crush and go hug someone they love.

Day Twenty-Three – If you’re running out of things to discuss with your therapist, why not get your Klout score tattooed on your butt?

Day Twenty-Four – The cool thing about social media is our society’s collapse will be SUPER well documented. Huzzah!

Day Twenty-Five – I have a private twitter account where I just make typos and then bitch at myself about them.

Day Twenty-Six – Just got this ominous email notification: You’ve been judged on GuiltFindr!

Day Twenty-Seven – I saw the greatest minds of my generation post vine videos for a few months but then they were like, “Eh, screw it.”

Day Twenty-Eight – We used to post pictures of our food on Facebook. Now it’s mostly cats. If I was a cat I would be losing my shit.

Day Twenty-Nine – In the future, we’ll gather at movie theaters to read angry tweets about summer blockbusters on the big screen.

Day Thirty – It’s sad how simple messages can be misunderstood on social media, you assholes.

Yours in Social Media Obsession,


If you enjoy my work, you can check out all the comedy words and things I’m making via Patreon.

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Cats Versus Dinosaurs

I hear people say–with alarming frequency–that they want politicians who are “regular people.” Presidents, governors, mayors who spend their time and energy thinking about the things regular folks do. You know, important stuff like burritos, vampires, and animated gifs of llamas that look like Tom Hiddleston. In that spirit, here’s a heated debate between two politicians about a subject near and dear to our hearts: Which popular animal is better? Cats or dinosaurs? Enjoy!


Friends. Neighbors. Pet lovers. I’m a simple man. With a simple belief. Yes. I said belief. I only have one. And it is this: CATS ARE AWESOME.

I intend to prove this with a simple mnemonic device. The three C’s. Cats are cute. Cats are cuddly. Cats will lick their own crotches while staring at you with judgment in their eyes. That IS bold. Over the course of this debate, I will ask you to remember the three C’s. Cute. Cuddly. Crotch licking. It’s just that simple, America.

With respect to my opponent, Dinosaurs have everything that cats have and much more.

Take for example the mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex. Is a T-Rex cute? Yes, they have those tiny adorable little arms. Just imagine them doing things like opening a jar of peanut butter or smoking a little eCigarette. How cute is that?

Is a T-Rex cuddly? Yes. A T-Rex would give anyone a giant hug. WITH ITS MOUTH. Because it is the best predator the world has ever known.

Now I am the first to admit, and I’m on record with this, a T-Rex cannot lick its own crotch. But there are several dinosaurs who can. Take for example, the diplodocus. With a neck almost twenty feet long there is frankly nothing it could not lick. There are thousands of different cool dinosaurs, but a cat is just a cat.

You son of a bitch. There are millions of different kinds of cats.

There are sassy pants cats. Cutie-pie cats. Cool customer cats. Cats who like their bellies rubbed and cats who like their ears scritched.

Why, sir, there is a whole different group of cats you might have heard of called KITTENS. They’re like normal cats but more potent. They are the crack cocaine of the cat world. They are WEAPONIZED CUTE.

You bastard person. It is an insult to America to describe a kitten as a weapon. You want to talk about weapons?

Let’s talk about the pachycephalosaurus. It’s skull was ten inches thick. And I ask you what is more American than an animal that is specifically designed to resolve problems by repeatedly bashing it’s head against stuff?

Why, just one pachycephalosaurus could defeat entire communities of cats by smacking them with its head. A cat would pop up and whack! It would be the most beautiful and disturbing game of whack-a-mole the world has ever seen.

I do not agree, I do not agree. Any cat could beat any dinosaur in a fight and I will tell you how. The cats would wait. They would wait just a few million years. And the dinosaur would turn into a bird. And the cat would eat it. And I would take a picture of that and put it on facebook and all of my friends would like it.

Look, let’s talk common sense. Dinosaurs don’t even have to fight cats. The cats of today are defeating themselves with their rampant abuse of the street drug commonly known as catnip.

Hey, I make no argument that catnip is a major issue in the cat community. But the drug abuse is just a symptom of larger economic and class issues.

That said, many of our most famous cats have resisted the siren call of this deadly narcotic. Garfield. Hello Kitty. The Hang In There Cat from the motivational poster. I ask you, sir, what would a dinosaur themed motivational poster say? Hang In There Until We All Get Killed By A Giant Rock?

That is uncalled for, sir. But I have come to expect such uncivilized attacks from someone who loves such an uncivilized animal as a cat.

Uncivilized? CATS POOP IN A BOX. Where did dinosaurs poop? Literally everywhere! Montana! China! The middle of an Ikea store! Doesn’t matter to a dinosaur!

Yes! Yes! Dinosaurs did indeed poop everywhere. GIVING US FOSSIL FUELS!

That is dubious science at best, sir!

America, when you get in your car and drive yourself to the hospital after you have contracted toxoplasmosis or some other disease from cat poop, remember your car is running on ancient dinosaur shit and say, “Thanks, dinosaurs! Thank you for pooping everywhere! And no thanks, cats, for all the horrible diseases!”

Cats do not give humans diseases!

Cats have given human society one of the most dangerous social diseases of our time. I am of course speaking of Cat Ladies. Strange, agoraphobic hoarders who collect cats like they were Pokemon trading cards.

Well, Dinosaurs have also created a menace to polite human society.

What? What menace?

Dinosaur Kids.

What the hell is a Dinosaur Kid?

A Dinosaur Kid is a normally sweet, polite child who will absolutely LOSE THEIR SHIT if an adult says one mildly incorrect fact about a dinosaur.

That is a slanderous stereotype!

Why, even adult fans of dinosaurs can’t stop themselves from shouting obnoxious pedantic corrections about dinosaur factoids. For example if I said something like a triceratops had four horns! All located on its buttocks!


Or did you know that a brontosaurus ate only meat and was actually covered with a thick layer of sequins? Yes, everyone knows the brontosaurus was basically a giant meat-loving showgirl!


And the velociraptor? Oh boy, the velociraptor was the biggest dinosaur of them all! It was eight thousand feet tall! It had seventeen tails! It had claws for eyelashes! It only ate marijuana plants and as a result velociraptors pooped Grateful Dead CDs! PLUS velocirptors always wore fedoras!

Stop it! Stop it! You monster!

There’s no reason to be oversensitive. Be like a cat and play it cool.


Hey! Hey! Too far! Too far!

You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That was unfair. Look, we’ve both said some hurtful things. Let’s just call a truce. I admit there are many cool things about cats.

And I concede that not all dinosaurs were great big stupid heads.

In fact, I would like to reach across the aisle and say the best animal of all would be a monstrous cat-dinosaur hybrid.

Indeed. A compromise is exactly what America deserves.

A compromise in the form of a giant, furry, Tyrannosaurs Kitty Rex. It would be cute and clever.

It would poop in a box!

It would have a skull at least two miles miles thick!

And as god is my witness, it would find a way to lick its own crotch.

Because America.

Thank you!

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The itPhone

I’m a big fan of old horror stories by Edgar Allan Poe and H.P. Lovecraft. I also spend a hideous amount of time playing with my smartphone. This led me to think about what kind of story these masters of macabre suspense might write if they were alive today. Enjoy.

I would like to tell you a story about a terrifying, soul-sucking, life destroying thing that happened to a friend of mine.

He got a new smartphone.

My friend—whose name was Jonathon—was a huge fan of Apple. He once sent me an article saying experts predicted that the next iPhone after the iPhone 4 would be the iPhone 5. To which I responded, “Which experts are saying this? Counting experts?”

But the next phone was, strangely, the iPhone 4S and Jonathon dutifully lined up in the middle of the night to buy one. But while he was waiting, a small wizened old man with a crooked smile and bulbous eyes emerged from the shadows of a nearby alley. The old man wanted to sell Jonathon a knock-off iPhone called an itPhone.

Jonathon laughed and said no, but the more he played with the itPhone, the more amazing it seemed. So fast, so responsive, so intuitive as though the phone knew what Jonathon wanted even before he did. On an impulse, he bought the phone.

At first, he was thrilled. Jonathon’s phone was always the fastest. He was that annoying guy at the bar who could look up character actors’ names on his phone faster than his friends could remember them with their slow human brains.

But after a few months, Jonathon started having problems with the phone. One day, he called me and I was terrified. Because who the hell uses their phone to actually call people these days?

Also, my ringtone is the Wilhelm Scream. For anyone who is not familiar with the Wilhelm Scream, it’s a famous audio clip used in many films when minor characters die or fall from high places. It sounds something like, “oooWAAUHHHooohhh!”

Anyway, Jonathon was in panic about his phone.

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked.

“It’s…it’s haunted,” Jonathon said.

I asked for some examples of what this haunted phone was doing.

Jonathon quickly rattled off a list. “It keeps giving me the wrong directions! And it autocorrects all of my texts! And without asking me it keeps poking all my Facebook friends!”

“Yeah,” I said supportively, “That’s what phones do.”

“You don’t understand,” Jonathon shouted, “It took a picture of my junk while I was sleeping and sent it to my co-workers!”

“Well,” I said, “Was it a good picture? Tasteful lighting? Did it use an Instagram filter?”

“This isn’t funny!” Jonathon whisper-yelled. “It downloaded an app and I can’t delete it.”

“What does the app do?”

“It makes it so the phone screams if I stop touching it.”

I laughed and the line went dead. I almost called back but I really, really hate talking on the phone. It just seems so much easier to send a text, you know?

Anyway, I didn’t hear from Jonathon for a little while. But I assumed he was alright, because he was always online. He was very active on Facebook. And Twitter. And Google+. And Pinterest. And Reddit. And Tumblr. And Etsy. And Regretsy. Even LinkedIn. I admit, that gave me some pause.

Eventually, he stopped responding to tweets and texts, so I decided to make a personal sacrifice, stop everything I was doing, and call him on the phone like a savage.

The phone rang and rang and finally Jonathon picked up and said in a raspy voice, “Hello?”

“Jonathon. It’s me. I decided to call you. On the phone. Because I figured what the hell is a phone for after all?”

There was a pause. And then Jonathon cackled like a maniac for a solid minute. He followed the laugh by quietly saying, “LOL.”

That seemed redundant to me. Then he said something even more bizarre. He said, “No, seriously. Actual LOL.”

That just pissed me off.

I mean, LOL stands for laughing out loud. When you add the “actual” you’re just admitting that the majority of times you say LOL you’re lying.

But I digress.

Jonathon hung up and didn’t answer my calls after that. He started changing all of his profile photos. Strange, artsy shots of the corner of his jaw or just his eyebrow. Thankfully, never his junk. At least I don’t think so.

I emailed his co-workers and discovered he had stopped showing up to work weeks ago.

I decided to make the ultimate sacrifice. I decided to physically get in my car, drive through actual traffic to his home, and speak with him face to face. I even parallel parked. It was horrible.

When I arrived at his house, the door was ajar. I gently pushed it open and it screeched ominously. The house was a mess. Clothes, food, bottles, and papers everywhere. It looked like the home of the least organized serial killer in the world. I heard the soft mewling of a cat.

As far as I could remember Jonathon didn’t own any cats.

I followed the noise to the bedroom. There was a dim glow coming from inside the room. I steeled my nerves, peeked inside, and saw him.

Saw it.

Illuminated by the glow of the phone, it was clear that Jonathon had changed. He was shriveled and hunched. His tiny arms could barely support the weight of his hands. His thumbs were enormous and his fingers had developed into fine points. His hair had fallen out and his head had contorted to make more room for his eyes….his giant bulging eyes. His whole body was bent and angled as if it were being pulled into the phone.

His huge, bloodshot eyes seemed to strain out of the sockets as they stared at the phone.

Stared at cat videos on the internet.

I stood there, arms grasping the door frame to hold myself steady. “Hang in there,” I thought, “Hang in there like the cat on the motivational poster.”

Almost against my will, I heard myself saying, “Jonathon?”

Suddenly, his huge bulbous subterranean eyes locked on mine.

“You,” he croaked, “I know you from the Facebooks.” Then he reached out one of his tiny, pointed fingers and growled violently, “POKE!”

I ran out of the house, screaming and thinking to myself, “THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER TALK TO YOUR FRIENDS IN PERSON!”

By the time I had run halfway down the block to my car, I began to doubt if I had even seen it. There was a phrase nagging at me, some traditional wisdom, handed down through the generations. Then I remembered.

The phrase was this: “Pics or it didn’t happen.”

I made my way back to the house. My trembling hands pushed open the door. It screeched again. This time there was no cat sound. I trudged through the debris to the bedroom door and looked inside. Jonathan was gone.

I began to explore the house, my heart lurching into my throat every time I opened a closet door or pulled aside a shower curtain. But Jonathon was nowhere to be found.

Then I heard something, very faint yet very close. Was it a cat? No, it was a scream. A repeated, muffled scream.

And I realized the phone call was coming from inside my pants.


I pulled out my phone, cursing my choice of the stupid Wilhelm Scream for a ringtone. I touched the answer button and held the phone to my head.

“Are you looking for me, Facebook friend?” Jonathon rasped.

“Yes, Jonathon, yes I am.”

“I’m in the bedroom.”

“No, you’re not, Jonathon. I’m standing in your bedroom right now.”

“I’m right where you left me. On the bed.”

I turned and looked at the bed. I gathered my courage, terrified that I knew what I was about to see, and I pulled the covers away.

Sure enough, there was Jonathon, his horrible face writhing with laughter.

Writhing inside his phone.

His pointed little fingers scratching the glass surface from the inside. He stared into my eyes and said, “END CALL.”

The line went dead and Jonathon’s phone went black. I left the phone there, raced to my car, and drove straight home.

Well, not quite straight home, I got lost and had to do a google map search, but the point is I never saw Jonathon again.

No one did. At least, not in real life. He’s plenty active online though. He always says YES to my Facebook invites, but he never shows up. So in many ways, he’s living a very normal life.

I’ve tried to tell mutual friends what happened. But they never believe.

After all, there are no pics. So maybe it really never happened.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoy my writing, check out other stories like this in my book Comedy of Doom or support me on Patreon. Thanks!


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