then she would smack her Koolaid flavoured lips up against my ear and sloppily whisper "whisper whisper whisper" before pulling her tiny little head into view too close to my myopic and glassesed eyes and say happily, "What da ya tink uv dat?"

Reminds me of impoliticians and the intelligible community.

"Secrets" per se, as in official secrets and business secrets, like the formulae for Coke brand flavoured battery acid, are not legal, because you cannot protect something that you are not aware of. The idea of protecting something that doesn't exist is like defending a prostitutes virginity. Reminds me of Loretta in "The Life of Brian".

Sometimes I am afraid of my own stupidity. I really would like to accept things at face value more often, but the only times I can do that is with my cat.

I think.

Not that it matters. If I want to believe my cat, then it doesn't matter if he is believable. All that matters is that I want to believe in something so I believe in him. Well, not in that way, the way you should a good auto mechanic, or a basty lawyer who's on your side for the moment, or a really nice mythological figure of the female sort who isn't wearing many clothes on the statue you have in your closet...

Ahem...