Shake Rattle and Roll
Recently we’ve experienced a couple of natural phenomena that we don’t usually get in Connecticut; neither of which impressed our cat, Chester.
The first was a 4.8 earthquake that hit nearby New Jersey, the largest such event in that state in more than 200 years. I have my doubts about that later fact based on how much the ground shakes from truck traffic on the Jersey Turnpike.
Anyway, this geological disaster shook objects but resulted in minimal damage and no injuries; what people in California and Alaska call “Monday.”
As millions of people furiously typed on social media about feeling the world coming to an end, Chester and I felt nothing here in the Nutmeg State though others said they did.
As is usually the case with our cat, he slept through the faux disaster and mass hysteria.
I was watching the news when Chester woke up. He heard all the excited voices talking about their near-death experiences and asked what was going on.
“Slow news day,” I told him. “
“But why are they acting so crazy,” Chester asked.
“They’re paid to do that,” I said.
“Nothing happened, I don’t get it,” our sage feline continued.
“Something called ratings,” I said, educating Chester about some aspects of the human condition. “And the people they’re talking to like the 20 seconds of fame they get from being a sound bite.”
“Sure seems like a lot of talking for nothing,” Chester added.
The public being interviewed wasn’t on the same par as contestants on Let’s Make a Deal, but the idea was the same.
“Contestant dressed as a lobster, you have an envelope with $1,000. Do you want to keep that or take a chance of what’s behind our three doors,” show host Wayne Brady breathlessly asks.
“I’ll pick one of the doors,” yells the lobster person.
After some raucous suggestions from other weirdly dressed studio contestants, lobster person chooses door number one.
“Congratulations,” the happy voice of announcer Jonathan Mangum chirps. “You’ve won a cup of polonium-laced tea imported all the way from Russia!”
Lobster person jumps up and down in excitement gleeful for his prize.
“Let’s see what was behind the other doors,” as Brady interjects during the lobster’s elation. “Door number two and three both had the polonium spiked tea so you would have been a winner no matter what.”
Fortunately, there were sane-minded folks on social media making light of the quake under the banner, “We Will Rebuild” and “Never Forget.”
Courtesy: X-Ray/X Courtesy: Sundae_Divine/X
Also not wasting a moment of getting their mugs on TV were various politicians who held news conferences surrounded by other officials all looking somber.
“It’s been an unsettling day, to say the least,” New York Governor Kathy Hochul said to a media throng panning and tilting their cameras in every direction in a desperate attempt to show the tiniest bit of possible damage.
Many a pothole or cracks in the street caused by the natural deterioration of the area’s infrastructure made it on newscasts.
A grandmother backing her Buick into a tree would have resulted in more destruction than this megaquake.
“Wake me up when the big one hits,” Chester said, curling up for another cat nap.
While an earthquake comes suddenly and without warning, there was plenty of time to hype the recent solar eclipse. Unlike the former, the latter delivered on its much-anticipated arrival.
For people, the eclipse was a spiritual experience. That wasn’t the case for Chester and other cats.
Chester had been working the internet for any information he could leading up to the big shadow event, caught up in all the hoopla.
“You humans believed that a dragon or wolves ate the sun,” our cat asked in disbelief while reading one eclipse historical piece.
“For a species that thinks it’s so smart, you’re really a bunch of nincompoops,” Chester chuckled.
As excited as Chester said he was for the eclipse, when it arrived, he wasn’t impressed.
There was no feline freakout. Chester didn’t start meowing like he was scared. Videos of cats on the internet showed the same reaction, that is no reaction to the darkness. It just as well could have been some thick storm clouds passing by lowering the light level.
“Ok, it’s getting a little dark,” Chester deadpanned. “But it does this every night.”
“But not in the middle of the day,” I said.
I got no response. When I looked back where Chester was, he was furiously typing on the laptop. I thought he was doing more eclipse research, but I was wrong.
“What are you looking up,” I queried.
“Nothing,” was the short answer.
“Then what,” was my follow-up.
“I’m trying to win tickets to see Taylor Swift on her Eras Tour,” Chester said while working the keyboard.
“Do tell, Chester,” I requested.
“This hotel chain has a contest to see my favorite singer at three concerts in three different cities. I’m going all out to fulfill my destiny,” Chester purred with confidence.
“What does that mean, ‘all out’.”
“I’m flooding them with different email addresses,” Chester said with all the hutzpah he could muster. “Chester_A._Cat@gmail, Yahoo, AOL, HubSpot, etc.”
“Isn’t that against the rules?”
“Rules apply to people, not cats,” Chester sneered.
“Speaking of which, isn’t this contest just for people,” I inquired.
“There’s nothing in the rules that say cats are prohibited from entering,” Chester re-joined.
“It says you have to be a legal resident in this country,” I informed our tempestuous tabby.
“I’m as American as you can be, so check,” Chester gushed.
“It says potential winners are subject to verification, how are you going to handle that,” I shot back.
“Easy,” Chester said. “When they check on who I am, you’ll pretend to be me.”
“No way,” I said raising my voice. “I’m not getting into trouble for you.”
“Don’t worry big guy,” was Chester’s calm reply. “I’ll work up some fake documents to prove you’re me.”
“So, you want ME to commit a felony so you can see Taylor Swift,” I said in disbelief. “I knew you were trouble.”
“Shake it off bro,” Chester said. “You need to calm down. It’s not like I’m asking you to murder someone.”
“You’re losing me, cat,” I said. “It’s bad karma, I can feel it.”
“I’d be happy to bail you out,” Chester chuckled. “And with my new winnings I can afford it.”
“What winnings?”
“My DraftKings winnings,” Chester said with his best Cheshire Cat smile. “I got plus 150 on Scottie Scheffler to win the Masters and he came through beautifully. That’s right after I scored big on UConn to win the men’s NCAA hoop title.
“Normally I’d charge for betting tips, but since I like you, sort of, I’ll give you a freebie if you want.”
“How much did you win,” I said in disbelief.
“Let’s just say I could follow my girl Taylor around the world and pay top dollar for her shows,” our conceited cat chortled.
“Then why don’t you do that and stop dragging me into your contest scheme,” I fired back.
“I’m a cat, I like to hunt and going after free travel and show tickets is hunting. It’s in my DNA just like being a Swiftie,” Chester proclaimed.
“And if you don’t win,” I asked.
“Hello MasterCard,” our chancy cat cooed. “Just call me London Boy when I’m dancing at Wembley Stadium in June with all my other Swifties.
“Oh by the way, can you hand me my sunglasses, it looks like that eclipse thing is over.
“Bye bye baby.”
The Chester Chronicles 
Tell Chester he probably won’t like at the screaming girls at the concert. 🙂
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Chester just wants to be seen and brag he attended a Swifty show.
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