“They Call Me the Crazy Cat Lady.”

Going along with the surrounding flow is a major force behind how we’ve found ourselves stuck in political cogjam.
The following short vignette is a more whimsical example of how unwittingly going along with group-held beliefs sometimes has us doing or thinking things that miss some important internal logic.
Enjoy! See if you can set aside the political, and appreciate the cultural irony. That in itself represents a major step beyond cogjam.

IF CAT LADIES RAN THE WORLD

They call me the crazy cat lady.
You betcha. Crazy like a fox, believe me.
Nobody can have too many of those furry little friends. But rules and regulations turn our lives into a disaster. How do you peacefully settle in with your collective with rule-mongers pounding on your door, insisting on knowing what’s in there? It’s as disgraceful as constantly hounding presidents to reveal the status of their stashes of choice.
We have a right to privacy. And we should be free to expand our collectives as we see fit.
I could support an even larger family if cat food and cat litter weren’t so spendy. As a dedicated collector my taxes should rightfully be cut from 35% to 15%. It would promote even more of my faithful stewardship. It’s only right that people like me and the wealthy be entrusted with such advantages. We truly appreciate the value of our collectives. Others only squander them.
They simply do not understand. Like when those who are blessed with new litters only give away those sweet balls of fluff, who are soon neutered into an unproductive stalemate. Where is justice? It’s no better than so-called “philanthropists.” Many gather collectives even larger than Mr. President’s. Then they give away huge portions, requiring little or nothing in return. They just don’t get it—the worthiness of expanding, the critical overriding principal of “more.”
My invitation to the White House will turn up any day now. He owes me, you see, for the faithful counsel I’ve tweeted him over the years. In return, I plan to be so bold as to seek his counsel. There is a conundrum he has escaped, and I have not.
You see, treasuring my collective has earned me the distasteful label of “hoarder.” It’s true I’ve got more kitties than fit in my lap at once. In that respect, I suppose one might propose that my collective is bigger than what I personally can fully take advantage of.
Impressive collectives like Mr. President’s are likewise more than he could ever need. But for some reason, he and those like him have no need to hide their continuing pursuit of wealth. The approach is the exact opposite of the philanthropy mindset. And they’re quite open about their seeking more.
Yet nobody accuses them of hoarding. More often than not, people seem to applaud them, or say they wish that they too could hoard such a collective.
Hopefully our future Oval Office tea for two will include discussion of that bit of genius, whatever it is that spares the financially wealthy such scrutiny. And then perhaps, just perhaps, we cat ladies can more openly run the world.

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