Meet the New Boss

While I’m watching the New Jersey skies darken in an oddly welcome threatening manner – we need rain and we’d prefer to be on fire a little less, thank you – Johnny writes from the sun-drenched desert.

His Most Exalted Highness Bubbahotep just spent his first night out in the main house with the other cats and the dogs. I was a little concerned, because he’s so small, and I haven’t forgotten Kismet killing my baby mockingbird back in Massachusetts. I was giving the little guy flight lessons in the living room, flying from my hand to the chandelier, when she leaped up in the air and snapped him in half. I guess he reminded her of a rabbit. A flying rabbit.

We’re off to the Folk Art Museum for an exhibit of Latin American, uh, folk art. In my plaid suit, black shirt, spectators, and switchblade, I hope to be mistaken for an exhibit. God damn, I love this town.


Clothes make the man. Attitude makes the cat. I think Bubba needs an eyepatch and his own parrot.

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