Ah, Rupert's racist, right-wing rag: as a venue for its owner-approved propaganda it is rumored to be kept afloat by the Faux Noise Channel, and so loathsome a publication that we find the free copies handed out to us on a daily basis too expensive to accept.
But for once, we're on the same team.
You see, I find it deplorable that with everything that's going on, 3/4 of Friday's front page is dedicated to a story about a dude that kicked his girlfriend's evil cat to death. While it is par for the course, when it comes to the Post, it is simply unconscionable.
Yet...
As someone who was once scratched mid coitus by the feline of a lady with whom I was having carnal relations, I feel for the guy and must take his side on this one. (For the record, I am no cat hater but cat apologists and PETA, bring it on. I can take ya.)
Better yet, even the execrable Andrea Peyser and I agree on this one. Weird.
As she sees it:
"New York ladies of a certain vintage, I beg you. Listen up. You have a choice. When presented with the option of huddling on a chilly night with a warm, breathing 6-foot-2 human--or bitching with your jealous friends, or, worse, hugging your demented cat--take the guy. You won't regret it."
Word.
