Klarinet Archive - Posting 000803.txt from 2000/02

From: LeliaLoban@-----.com
Subj: [kl] A note or two of thanks
Date: Mon, 21 Feb 2000 10:22:30 -0500

on 2/17/00 11:45 AM, Stephen Heinemann wrote:
>I'll be unsubscribing in a week or so until midsummer and leaving for an
>extended research stay in Basel, Switzerland, but wanted to un-lurk
>briefly to extend thanks to Tony, David, David, Dan, Walter, Lelia,
>that stupid cat, and (almost) everyone else who contributes to this list.>

David Niethamer (pet human to Paddington, Scaredycat extraordinaire) wrote,
>>So, Stephen, do you really think that Switzerland is far enough away that
Shadow Cat will not find you and reduce your legs to two well used and shabby
scratching posts...and that your personal belongings (at least those within
reach) will not be well marked by this feline as a way of repayment for your
kind regards sent via the list?>>

I'm making my stupid pet human type this. She wrote a thank-you note to
Stephen Heinemann off the list, for reasons that escape me. Cats don't send
thank-you notes. I suppose sending them is yet another atavistic social
convention amongst the lower life forms.

I regard an insult from a human as almost beneath my notice, but I did send
the fellow a little "Ssss" (which means, "I saw that!") as a P.S. to Lelia's
note. I certainly can't be bothered to follow anybody to Switzerland, when
there are plenty of things I can scratch here. I almost wrote that I hope
he's taking his clarinets with him, except, naturally, I wouldn't wish more
clarinets on the fine cats of Switzerland, who probably already suffer more
than enough screech-stick devils of their own.

Now, Paddington, are you going to let that human call you a Scaredycat in
public?! Really! And you've let him become principal clarinetist of
something-or-other? That means he's running loose at night, doesn't it?
Going off to play screech-sticks at concerts for a motley crowd of humans
while leaving you without access to his lap? You're entitled to sit on him
any time you please!

My pet humans sneak out in the evening occasionally, too, but they know
they're not allowed. They're supposed to earn cat food in the daytime and
stay home with me at night. Like most humans, they're slow learners,
difficult to train. Even though they usually stay home where they belong,
they try to do things, even practice the villainous violin and the horns of
horror, during the hours when they should pay attention to nothing but me. I
make them pay for these transgressions. Properly-trained humans ought to do
nothing in the evenings but watch long, boring TV shows so that they will
fall asleep and give cats nice, warm places to take naps.

I suppose that at least the playing in public gets your pet human's
screech-sticks out of the house for the time being, but such excessive
interest in them probably means he practices them far too much at home. My
sympathies! Well, at least he plays a bass clarinet some of the time.
Better the bass than the squealing sopranos or, worse yet, the
Eeeek!-Eeeek!-Eeefers.

My pet human thought about buying a bass clarinet recently. It would
distract her from the little squealers, but it would mean admitting yet
another monstrosity to the menagerie. It's peculiar and sinister the way the
larger clarinets look more like the V*c**m Cl**n*r Demon than the smaller
clarinets do, even though the smaller ones sound more like the Evil One.
I'll bet the bass clarinets are more cunning and know how to disguise their
voices. It's a conspiracy

Yes, it's a global conspiracy, and these clarinet players who travel with
bands and orchestras unwittingly aid and abet it. They take their seditious
clarinets hither and thither all over the world, where they commune in secret
phrases of tone and rhythm. They even scheme with trumpets and trombones,
and, worst of all, with drums! They're everywhere, thousands of them.
They're lurking under the beds and in the closets, just waiting for their
chance.

They have special meeting places, these so-called concert halls, where people
sit there complacently and never realize what's going on right in front of
them as the instruments of the V*c**m Cl**n*rs hold their meetings in plain
sight and hatch their nefarious plots in their clandestine language that
humans can't translate. Not for nothing is music called "the universal
language!" Yes the universal language of the V*c**m Cl**n*r Conspiracy! On
the home front, we've got these so-called amateur chamber music groups and
community bands and orchestras, little pockets of subversion, tucked into
neighborhoods where humans least suspect them. Cats know these things, but
the humans aren't even investigating!

I'm not sure whether those big clarinets are a different species or adults of
the same species. I'm still studying this important question. The little
ones have already reached breeding age, that's for sure. They multiply at an
atrocious rate. Oh, all we need around here is for them to start hybridizing
with bigger ones -- popping out basset clarinet extensions and extra keys and
Yog knows what next, all future soldiers in the advancing Army of Subversion,
making the world unsafe for felines. No we don't need any bass clarinets in
this house. They can't fool me with their nice, deep voices. You can't
trust any of them.

Shadow Cat

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