Katie mailed me a craigslist posting…

Four adorable kittens, ready to adopt and virtually free to good homes! 8 weeks old w/shots and spay/neuter certificates! Here’s a photo of one, but all look alike. Please call…

I have a sweet dream where I capture a cat beast and give it a condescending name like “Goose-step”, “Professor Spotty Boy”, or “Mr. Bootsause”. As a small kitten I would tease it constantly with loving yells and frightening noises so it would develop a sharp sense of fighting. I’d build him a cat house and when he wasn’t looking I’d paint graffiti on it that would insult his heritage or virility. Ohhh, Mr Bootsause, I would build you a strong character. There would be a long stretch in the beginning of our relationship where you would constantly attempt escape only to find I’ve outsmarted you once again. You would become familiar with many clever cat-traps that would result in your ugly puss face bound up in a cat-bag that only I could let you out of– if I felt like it.

That would be only the first of many insults I would delight in laying on the pet. In fact, everything else would be done only in preparation for the ultimate goal: to dress this cat in clothes that he neither wants to wear nor looks good in. Mr Bootsause! Your little kitty arms poking out through the rolls of garments tied around you securely would be photographed in so many different ways and seen so frequently on the internets. How many captions would I be able to conjure…10…20…hundreds? Your sole purpose in my house (because I will never let you know that there is an existence beyond my domain) will be to serve my random cat related whims. I would make movies where you talk to me and I tell you to shut up. I would finish making it and then tell you to shut up even if you weren’t making a sound.

Such a cat would be so lucky.

But I can’t have hims. He would probably ruin my stuff with urine and jump up on my computer stuff and scratch it. The house would smell like cat or cat deification and if he shed his hair would be everywhere. The food would cost money and we’d have to tell Marty.

Damnit, cat.

What if he looked like this tho:

That would totally be worth it. That cat is so goddamned ugly.

This is probably a little out of the way but I ran into this clip:

I think there have been a number of “Britain’s Got Talent” clips running around, but for the most part they’re little girls who could cut open a fat rabbit and serve the judges the small intestines from the stage and still be “awwwed” to the next level. This time, though, it’s a roundish guy named Potts, and he’s sells cell phones. The best the producers were hoping for, I imagine, was an ‘average joe’ to do something kinda cool in between commercials, but I think this is one of those weird moments in reality TV when the contestant has something else going on in the back of their mind.

They’ve got their typical intro with the crap music and all, complete with the condescending “Paul, what are you here for today….Paul?” He looks at her like he’s lost it already and says “opera.” One judge looks over like he’s prepared for the worst, the others seem bored or just going through the motions.

My attraction to the clip starts, though, when he looks over at the lady cuing the music and nods. He’s got this subtle look that tells me somehow that he’s about to commit suicide; it’s really engaging. I love flawed or scared people. Then he sings.

And yeah, when the clip ends I’m left wondering if it’s the music and camera movement causing me to write this, but I keep going back and looking at those frames where the guy is about to cry even before the song begins. In the span of the video I’ve invented this cliché story where he’s walking along the desolate streets after a long day and few sells. His boss has verbally beaten him down, or his kids have written him off as a loser. He’s heard about the show, though, and can’t get the idea out of his mind that this might be he last chance to get out of his tracks and sing opera. The show is a means to something that isn’t even all that glamorous– it’s just something he’s got to do. I say not glamorous, but I get the same chills watching the height of this song that I do in a good movie, manufactured moment or not.

I also imagine the TV director and camera men recognized the appeal instantly and were scrambling around shouting in whispers across their headsets to prepare for several sweeping shots that would push the segment as high up as it could go. I’m not sure it could’ve been scripted as well.

Then someone who is shitty decided to put the Armageddon song at the end, ruining what could have been a very naturally uplifting victory (it’s not like we didn’t see it coming anyway).

At any rate, maybe you see it too.

So here it is, folks, the debut of Scott’s “College Humor Presents” series. The video doesn’t have credits, so you can roll over to scottgiardner.com to read about my participation, or just travel back to my last few posts where I gleefully credit myself for the DP, acting, building, music making, and sound mixing work I contributed.

Scott’s College Humor Page has a nice log of things he’s done and I’ve been a part of in a similar fashion. Watch them and then tell two friends to watch and tell two friends. If that keeps up then Scott will quickly pwn the comedy world and I’ll have an endless supply of door building and music making work to feast on.