Screw You, LolCats!

I have never understood the appeal of lolcats. I have never understood the appeal of cats period. My wife found a feral cat under her mother’s house a few years back, and we brought the little prick into our home. He didn’t stay long.

I’m still finding random objects strewn about the house with bite marks in them. I’m hopeful that we’ve at least discovered all of his “litter boxes” that he so kindly took upon himself to create in our home. My favorite was when he decided that my old comics would make a nice litter box. I try to think about how some of these scenarios might play out in the world of lolcats. “I’s Gon’ Piss on Your Stuff!” or “Oops, I made a yellow wee wee.” It’s just not cute, no matter how you render it.

The cardinal rule of lolcats seems to be that the creator must spell everything wrong. Apparently mentally challenged cats are cute. That or slaughtering the English language is just so damned funny that it compensates for the pictures of skanky cats in the background. In an attempt to understand that which I loathe, I decided to make a few lolcats:

Wook at dat cute widdle kitty wid him gutz all overs. Isn't he cutez?

Cute widdle Sparkles, he jus ain't gotz it in him anymeow. He so tuckewed outz dat he's los' da will to live.

Oh Snickers, looks like you got yourself in a real bind this time.

Whiskers callz it like he sees itz. Cats = Excrement.


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