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  1. “Wow, cool! the dumb guy, whose herb garden I keep trying to destroy, has put some leftover barbecued spicy chicken in a plate on the ground… Better snatch it now, just in case he wants to eat it later…”
  2. “Man, that dragging stuff on the ground sure is tedious. Dunno how I’m gonna go over the fence like that… I sure miss that opposable thumb.”
  3. “Wait… you mean I can actually put it in my mouth!?! Wow, that’s a nifty trick! Look at me! I’m such a pimp! I can haul food in my mouth…”

How this cat manages to survive in the wild is beyond me.

The definition of cruel is when your friends, over at your house for some lo-key, yet highly inebriated, bbq dinner, drunkenly (and unwittingly) opened that one very special bottle of Piper Heidsieck Special Millesime.

No. Hold on. Cruel is when it turns out they drank but a glass and left a full uncorked bottle sitting there for you to mourn in the morning.

Inhumanly cruel, is when all this takes place in the middle of your shot at reaching ascetic enlightenment, and subsequent self-imposed ban on all forms of alcohol consumption.

If I end up not drinking off that bottle today, I will personally write in a demand for a medal from the British National Temperance League.