I realize that many of you love cats. Sadly, I don't share your zest, as I'm allergic as hell to the animals. Whenever a playful kitten sidles up next to me, I don't think "Gumdrop jubilee candyfloss." No, my first thought is "A domesticated quadruped. Now is the time to leak enzymes out of my eye sockets." Truth be told, I'd rather be responsible for the general welfare of 300 pounds of weevils than one happy Manx.

Joe Mabel

"Your name is Ambrosia, your name is Napoleon, and your name is -- oh fuck it, you're all named Roy."

In fact, I can only hang out with cats after one or two "Benagronis" (standard Negroni, swap out the Campari with Benadryl, garnish with poor life choices). Luckily, I can delight in the li'l fluffballs from a safe distance, as humans have been artistically immortalizing felines for centuries. This proud tradition -- which spans from the Bast cults of ancient Egypt to the werejaguar worship of the Olmec -- continues unabated to this day.