About Dicktater Supreme

I am the Dicktater Supreme of the website MyCatHatesYou dot com. So, eat that, honkies!

It’s hella long, girls!

I found out in the oddest way possible that cat authors are privy to untold amounts of information that you, Joe Public, have to wait to see on that cocksmoking pile of steamy crap, Fox News, if you even see any of it.

That whole Led Zeppelin benefit concert last week sucking ass?! Hell brah, I knew about that 9 months ago. In fact, it was Bob Plant that sent out the memo: Most excellent cat writers. We are playing a ‘benefit’ show cause Page is getting blackmailed by his neighbor’s daughter and he needs the bread. We are gonna suck real bad. Just wanted to let you all know so you don’t waste the money on a ticket. – Yours, Bob.

Since I was sworn in last year at the Annual Cat Writer’s Conference as a member of one of the most elite groups in the state of Montana, I was not able to warn Jamie Moyer and wife before they wasted big time flow on it. Hey, he went to Cleveland… fuck him!

So, here is it, five months after the last cats were posted and I am blathering again about the sad state of affairs in the world of feline humor. Let me remove the ball gag and just say for the record; I have recently received a lot of questions about my possible demise, the end of the world in 2012, my new religious-fisherman best-seller, The Anchovy Code.

Now, you know that I am not dead because I was seen in Brainerd, Minnesota last week trying to break into the Holy Order of Molasses Convent, Mr. Johnson in hand. The 2012 thing sort of owes its notoriety to McKenna and his psilo-ridden, now-decayed cerebrum. But being the A-LIST mollafocka I am, it is understandable why people come to me with this shit. How do I put this simply for you all? 2+0+1+2 = 5, which we all know is the cube-cube-cube root of 1953125. Oh crap, I just almost violated my oath as a Cat Writer. I will say this though… Robert Downey Jr. had it right on when he said, “Oh shit.” Now, as for The Anchovy Code, it was really an accident. I happened to have been in one of those rare hallucinatory moments between Monday and Saturday when He came to me. No, not HIM, him, but the littler him, St. Anchovy himself. There he was, in all his silver, fishy, about to go on the pizza glory. He said to me, “Glurb glurb, Jim! GLURB GLURB!” And then it was over and he was in the fucking Caesar salad dressing! And man, did he taste good with romaine and croutons. At that moment I knew the truth. And when the movie comes out, the ‘berg already told me that he is going to cast none other than Coming-in-Nicole-Kidman’s-Hair Harvey Keitel to play me as the guy that runs the smoothie shoppe in Venice. $ 5.00 advance tickets available here first, folks… HERE FIRST!

Now, in the REAL world, all sorts of things have been going on… some not so fun, some very fun. The NOT-SO-FUN I will maybe share later, dunno. But the FUN stuff is the following news : there are new cats up as of NOW! We have finished the Bad Cat 2009 Page-A-Day calendar… AND… Bad Cat 2, the sequel to Bad Cat. My publisher has about 30 days left to determine if they are going to publish it or if they are going to send me on my merry One-Million-Books-In-Print way to another publisher to make big profits. How big are their profits? Well, I am not at liberty to say, but I get pennies on the dollar for each book sold, no lie. Can I get a high five?!

I hope the holidays are treating you all well and God has blessed you with virility, fertility, humility, calamity, enmity, sterility, abnormality, obscenity, anthropocentricity, generosity, and of course… hideosity. Much love from your benevolent Dick-Taster!

Jehovah… fuck the Yankees!

Another shitty post season of bisabol is upon us with the shitball Yankees getting kicked out of the first round for the third time in three years. It is the Curse of The A-Rod, verily! Do you doubt my veracity? Nay, I say! It is in stone and the goat of your mother!

We all know here in Seattle that New York sucks and Derek Jeter swallows. This is not contested, as The Rod of the A has been seen making good on the the non-wood bat of the Jeet.

Let the Cleves reign supreme this season. The Least Coast can suck it for years to come. The World Champions will come from the West this year… and how sad for the networks, which is why the playoffs are on TBS this year. Oh, how pathetic.

Oh, cat news? How about this one… the Yankees suck the balls of the cats. The whole team, including the Torre of Joe will fade into history as the biggest chokers since the 2007 Mets.

I looked into the sky tonight and I saw it… there in blazing green and red lights… the sucker of them all; Seth McSavish. If he does not get it done next year, I may come out of retirement and fuck shit up. Cause Seth prolly ain’t gonna do it. Rip tide motherfucker like him has nothing but liver disease and post-mortem fucking blues. Hey Seth! Remember me from 1989 at the freaking Toe’s Tavern on the west end? You were choking it down in the bathroom while I was finishing my 24th beer per the agreement between the families! One night, Seth, and I did 24 beers. Not that Budweiser shit either, I am talking Large Tankard Black Ale at $ 6.00 a flagon, yo!

What to do now?

Today we have lost a great voice, not only in the aural spectrum, but in a great voice for global humanism and a humanitariast at large (no pun intended). I have always wanted to see him live and experience the connection of Pavarotti with our smallness. Well, that is not to be. I hope that we can all somehow learn from his efforts from a child to the mega-star he became : all is possible and don’t sweat the small stuff. God bless Luciano Pavarotti

In other news, I finshed Bad Cat Too this week and hopefully it will be accepted by my publisher for print.

Oh yes, more cats are to come soon!

A day in the life of Ice-T.

I gotta imagine that being Tracy Marrow is a tough gig. Turning 50 next year and still unable to speak a word of English. As I am wont to do, I spend time during the day doing various shiz about the crib del MCHY and watching Law & Order. It is almost possible to find a Law & Order on SOME satellite channel somewhere in the US at any time of the day. How lucky am I, that I love the show so much?

So there I am, watching L&O:SVU and Ice-T, a.k.a. Nestea walks into the cop room where there is a conspicuous absence of doughnuts and announces: Detetib Arlo! Dey found de weapah on de ruh, Sahgeh Prawc sez to get de warrah! According to my Close Captioning, which I need in my old age, he said… Dectective Arlo, they found the weapon on the roof, Sargeant Price says to get a warrant. Then he made this hard-core gansta look at Chris Merloni (who doesn’t flinch at Ice’s New Jersey antics) and moonwalks out the room. BUT… in his hand… a fucking DOUGHNUT! Not only is he a master of unintelligible rhyme, he is a prestigitator extraordinaire! Now that I think about it, I remember watching one of his videos where he walks into a restaurant in New York City and all the Western-European Americans and Mexican Americans in the restaurant turn invisible. Not a ONE to be seen! Even the kitchen was full of African Americans. However, I believe that one of the guys there was from the Dominican Republican, so I cannot say that Ice is a MASTER of the mystical arts, but perhaps a dabbler.

If Wolf would have cast Marrow alongside the original L&O crew, shit would have been different, I can assure you. i.e. :

  • Ice-T : Yo beddah cun down tede crying seen, counsler, dey gottza be pudding dem boddahz on eyes. (It is imperative that your presence be made at the crime scene Counselor, they are going to move the bodies to the morgue in the lower South end of downtown Manhattan.)
  • Sam Waterston : I will make my presence as I deem germane, detective. Please take this large container of marijuana to the evidence room and sign it it. There are 3.4 kilos in that container.
  • Ice-T : Ha. Ha. Hahahaha. 1.5 kilos, yessir.


Now… please don’t get the idea that I am casting Ice-T as a racial stereotype with regards to his street accent. Charles Dutton would have something to say about that, I am assured. But unless you are paying attention, it is sometimes hard to dig what Nestea is trying to say. Especially if you are not watching his lips move. Which I was NOT when I heard the above-mentioned exchange. I personally really like the guy. He just needs to slow down and enunciate when on camera. In the style of perhaps Mr. Kenneth Branagh or Sir Alec Guinness.

Join us next week when we explore Malcolm McDowell in his greatest role ever : Mr. Rourke of Fantasy Island.

Still trying to get some cats up.

I… love you all.

How can it get better?

Punk ass bitch Alberto Gonzales has finally admitted he is incompetent and a lying early morning tea-bagger. Well… okay, he just quit, but that says something. Vaminos General Loco is what I say. Smug ass-lickers like El General, who believe the constitution is something to wipe their butts with really shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near La Casa Blanca in my opinion, but who am I, an American? Oh yeah…

Sorry I have not had more cats up here. Apparently, LOLCATS took them all and made a ridiculous statement about felines in the humor world. I think it should be SUXCATS, but hey, who was here first?