Most cats are @$$#()!%$. Most bosses are @$$#()!%$. Why not combine the two and deal with one fewer @$$#()!% in your life? The opportunity is now! Mr. Panther Pants is a “celebrity cat” seeking an intern to manage his social media. I’m not saying Mr. Panther Pants is one of those jerk cats. I’m just saying he’s a cat wearing a neckerchief and outsourcing his social media to unpaid hirelings in LA, so it would not be an overwhelming surprise if he were the past, present and eternity of jerks you’ve ever dealt with or heard about.
Mr. Panther Pants is the Perez Hilton of Cats. He’s caddy and sassy and completely snarky. He always has an opinion where other cat or dog fashion is concerned. He has his own style. We’ll be creating a voice for him.
Oh, we’re sure there’s a voice for him. A crazy, fevered inner voice whispering for you to bring tuna fish and kill in our name. And wait…he’s caddy? As in those golf shirts aren’t just for show? Or he’s catty? I mean, he’d have to be, right? Sorry, I’m not trying to be pedantic, it’s just that it’s equally likely he’s either one of those things, and both of them are weird because cats aren’t people.
His friends call him Mr. Meowgee, except that can’t be right, because cats have no friends–only alliances, and those only when they’re in the superior position. Case in point: Photoshop, Illustrator, and InDesign are useful skills to have, but not necessary because if you knew how to do even two of those, you would already have an internship that paid, if not a job writing snarky posts about cats on Man Cave Daily.
You can follow Mr. Panther Pants on Twitter, and watch him endure several costume changes. TIP: Your cats hate wearing clothes. HATE IT. The fact that they’ve learned to endure it and not claw your fingers to tatters does not mean they enjoy the pageantry. It means they’ve learned there is food on the other side of it.
Sorry–you know what? Plainly the issue is not with this bereted cat. See, I have to confess that one of the worst people I’ve ever met who’d never actually done any harm was a “celebrity cat blogger.” Which would have been fine—make money taking pictures of your cat on the internet, and bless this technological world. But she honest-to-God believed that in real life people cared. In 20 minutes of conversation, 15 of it was her showing me every piece of writing and merchandise, and all the “clever” things she’d written—all the while acting like the cat had written it. Pretty much rattling away without even paying attention to whether I was still listening.
Imagine a useless “celebrity” like Teen Mom, except unaware of it, and an innate @$$#()!% because they’re a cat, and the person projecting this tulpa upon them is in awe of their own inner crazypants voice like it’s genius coming from outside of their fevered brain. That’s the future that awaits you if you become a “celebrity cat blogger” and don’t have a soul strong enough to withstand the fires of crazy that consume the cat-lover’s surreality. Is this person like that awful lady I met? Probably not–for starters, she can actually address other people without turning into an echo chamber of mental instability. But should you build a social media empire for a cat with 600 followers on Twitter at no cost? No. You should not.
Anyway, I got out of there real quick. And so should you.