Dear Evil Discussor... What's with all the cats?

Don't know if you've noticed, but the storefront on the southeast corner of 49th and Madison, where an old, stuffy, smelly, over-priced pharmacy used to be, is now a home to like 14 or so cats. It's part of some Meow Mix over-the-top, stunt-like advertising expenditure involving a reality show for cats where the cats live together for a week in this lovely little house-like environment, calmly strolling around, stretching out on quilts or rugs or bunk beds, as happy, little troll-like handlers feed them treats and water and stuff their little cat faces with all the Meow Mix they want. And then we vote for our favorite cat or something. Who will win? Who will form an alliance? Who the fuck cares?


There's just something weird about seeing a cat in a store window relaxing on a couch in a custom-built house. It's jarring. And discombobulating. As we all know, animals in New York City store windows should be in cages, preferably crawling through piles of shredded newspaper, all matted, sweaty and disgusting, hopelessly forced to roll in their own filth and feces, clawing each other's eyes out and clambering all over each other's backs, while we stand outside, incessantly tapping on the window and pointing and taking pics with our camera phones. Then, at the stroke of five, they should be taken out of the window, locked into rustier cages, and left to roll in more of their own turds for the rest of the night. That's the way it works, right? Anything else is just effed up. Night tables and lamps? Come on. This whole luxuriating in the cool, air conditioned comfort of a faux home is just plain wrong.

Yours,
E.D.