Category Archives: cats

On Catwoman (Julie Newmar)

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The fascination for this character is extraordinary and produced one of the worst movies (Catwoman, Halle Barry, 2004) ever–horrible is generous way of describing that incarnation of the myth. The highly camp television version of the Batman story was both horrible and edgy at once, and the few episodes done by Julie Newmar in the Catwoman role are a tour-de-force in a no-holds-barred examination of blind materialism, greed, and ego. By contrast, Newmar played the role as a strong, take charge, get-it-done woman, but her character is unwilling or unable to take an ethical stand as a law-abiding citizen, which is the great tragedy of the character. Unwilling to share her loot with even a single henchman, she drugs the last one in order to keep her ill-gotten booty for herself. Appearing in thirteen episode during the show’s run, she is finally “killed off” when she falls into a bottomless chasm, unwilling to let go of a bag of silver and gold. Granted, she is supposed to be the ultimate femme fetale, curvy, beautiful, and very sexy, but she is fatal for all around her, unable to demonstrate even the slightest ounce of empathy for either friends or foes. Even though the show was rather cartoonish and production values were low by today’s standards, the script, if you could see past the silliness of it all, was really a kind of morality play populated by characters that were unambiguously either good or evil. Catwoman, though beautiful, was evil, egocentric, and sadistic. As a metaphor, Catwoman is a medieval misogynistic representation of the feminine, which is portrayed as uncontrolled animalistic emotion. Catwoman is the dark side of human behavior, uncontrolled, chaotic, and anarchic. Catwoman isn’t capable, though, of even saving herself, dying while trying to steal a bag of pirate loot. Even though the show was high camp and extremely exaggerated, the comedy only thinly veiled its criticism of poor behavior and bad choices.

On Catwoman (Julie Newmar)

Posted on by

The fascination for this character is extraordinary and produced one of the worst movies (Catwoman, Halle Barry, 2004) ever–horrible is generous way of describing that incarnation of the myth. The highly camp television version of the Batman story was both horrible and edgy at once, and the few episodes done by Julie Newmar in the Catwoman role are a tour-de-force in a no-holds-barred examination of blind materialism, greed, and ego. By contrast, Newmar played the role as a strong, take charge, get-it-done woman, but her character is unwilling or unable to take an ethical stand as a law-abiding citizen, which is the great tragedy of the character. Unwilling to share her loot with even a single henchman, she drugs the last one in order to keep her ill-gotten booty for herself. Appearing in thirteen episode during the show’s run, she is finally “killed off” when she falls into a bottomless chasm, unwilling to let go of a bag of silver and gold. Granted, she is supposed to be the ultimate femme fetale, curvy, beautiful, and very sexy, but she is fatal for all around her, unable to demonstrate even the slightest ounce of empathy for either friends or foes. Even though the show was rather cartoonish and production values were low by today’s standards, the script, if you could see past the silliness of it all, was really a kind of morality play populated by characters that were unambiguously either good or evil. Catwoman, though beautiful, was evil, egocentric, and sadistic. As a metaphor, Catwoman is a medieval misogynistic representation of the feminine, which is portrayed as uncontrolled animalistic emotion. Catwoman is the dark side of human behavior, uncontrolled, chaotic, and anarchic. Catwoman isn’t capable, though, of even saving herself, dying while trying to steal a bag of pirate loot. Even though the show was high camp and extremely exaggerated, the comedy only thinly veiled its criticism of poor behavior and bad choices.

On cats

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Having never had a cat, I am singularly unqualified to write about these animals. I would, however, say this: cats gravitate to me, seem to love me, purr a lot, but I have no idea why. The genetics of cats are strange in that most cats, regardless of size, share most of their dna whether they are Bengal tigers or common house cats. Cats are, then, predators of a first order, deadly hunter killers, even when they appear to be sleeping or dozing. Unlike dogs, one gets the distinct impression that cats are always planning their next move. Growing up, my friends had cats, my grandfather had a small herd of cats that hung around the barn picking off the stray mice that ventured into their path, and there was a big gray cat at the used book store I frequented, so I have known lots of cats, but none of them have ever been my pets. I wonder if cats, unlike dogs, ever really consider themselves to be pets, or if the whole concept of “pet” even exists within cat philosophy. I always get the feeling, especially when I meet a new cat, that the cat is perhaps tolerating their owners in a co-dependent relationship, but who is dependent upon whom is unclear. Just having them around, however, has a very tranquilizing effect on the human spirit. Cats clearly exercise a strange attraction on their human captors, an attraction that has endured for several millennia, reaching into the ancient antiquity of Egypt and Persia. The fact that cats make great mousers (generally, if you overfeed them, they won’t chase anything), is not the reason most people will keep them around. Though they say little, they are great company, especially when it’s a question of stress. Studies have shown that domestic cats (and dogs) can help reduce a person’s stress, raise their quality of life, and help them live years longer. Yet cats always seem to be a little dangerous, a little secretive, and always surprising. They are loyal companions, love unconditionally, and can become very attached to their co-dependent owners. I have friends who should have dedicated their dissertations to their cats. I, however, do not want to have a cat, have never had the urge to own a cat, and will never own or harbor cats. I do like, however, the wild cats that live around my office building. They are skittish and skinny, but they always seem busy, stalking the birds, squirrels and rats that live in and around our old brick building. One must not forget their eternal role as predator and killer. The larger cats are high on the food chain, feared by humans, encased in the fearful symmetry of their hunter’s camouflage. House cats are also efficient killers in their own right, preying on animals scaled to their size. Their sharp claws and pointy teeth are reminders of their other nature. Quiet, soft, pleasantly furry, their weapons are just as deadly as those of their larger cousins who are used to bringing down much larger prey. Perhaps it is this threat of danger is that which attracts the humans to cats and vice versa. Clearly, the highly developed symbiosis which exists between humans and cats has benefited both species, encouraging them to develop and flourish. When, however, the cat has decided to climb the Christmas tree or has regurgitated an entire nest of field mice at your feet, you really start to question the sanity of keeping a cat in the house, especially when they decide to chew up a favorite pair of slippers or make a hash of the sofa. We keep cats at our risk, and perhaps that is what we might call feline mystique.

On cats

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Having never had a cat, I am singularly unqualified to write about these animals. I would, however, say this: cats gravitate to me, seem to love me, purr a lot, but I have no idea why. The genetics of cats are strange in that most cats, regardless of size, share most of their dna whether they are Bengal tigers or common house cats. Cats are, then, predators of a first order, deadly hunter killers, even when they appear to be sleeping or dozing. Unlike dogs, one gets the distinct impression that cats are always planning their next move. Growing up, my friends had cats, my grandfather had a small herd of cats that hung around the barn picking off the stray mice that ventured into their path, and there was a big gray cat at the used book store I frequented, so I have known lots of cats, but none of them have ever been my pets. I wonder if cats, unlike dogs, ever really consider themselves to be pets, or if the whole concept of “pet” even exists within cat philosophy. I always get the feeling, especially when I meet a new cat, that the cat is perhaps tolerating their owners in a co-dependent relationship, but who is dependent upon whom is unclear. Just having them around, however, has a very tranquilizing effect on the human spirit. Cats clearly exercise a strange attraction on their human captors, an attraction that has endured for several millennia, reaching into the ancient antiquity of Egypt and Persia. The fact that cats make great mousers (generally, if you overfeed them, they won’t chase anything), is not the reason most people will keep them around. Though they say little, they are great company, especially when it’s a question of stress. Studies have shown that domestic cats (and dogs) can help reduce a person’s stress, raise their quality of life, and help them live years longer. Yet cats always seem to be a little dangerous, a little secretive, and always surprising. They are loyal companions, love unconditionally, and can become very attached to their co-dependent owners. I have friends who should have dedicated their dissertations to their cats. I, however, do not want to have a cat, have never had the urge to own a cat, and will never own or harbor cats. I do like, however, the wild cats that live around my office building. They are skittish and skinny, but they always seem busy, stalking the birds, squirrels and rats that live in and around our old brick building. One must not forget their eternal role as predator and killer. The larger cats are high on the food chain, feared by humans, encased in the fearful symmetry of their hunter’s camouflage. House cats are also efficient killers in their own right, preying on animals scaled to their size. Their sharp claws and pointy teeth are reminders of their other nature. Quiet, soft, pleasantly furry, their weapons are just as deadly as those of their larger cousins who are used to bringing down much larger prey. Perhaps it is this threat of danger is that which attracts the humans to cats and vice versa. Clearly, the highly developed symbiosis which exists between humans and cats has benefited both species, encouraging them to develop and flourish. When, however, the cat has decided to climb the Christmas tree or has regurgitated an entire nest of field mice at your feet, you really start to question the sanity of keeping a cat in the house, especially when they decide to chew up a favorite pair of slippers or make a hash of the sofa. We keep cats at our risk, and perhaps that is what we might call feline mystique.

On black cats

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Black cats seem to be an evolutionary oddity.  Being as black as night doesn’t seem to be the best camouflage for a predator, especially in daylight.  The fact that there are black cats seems to contradict this idea, but natural selection plays no favorites: those will qualities that will promote the production of the next generation will be those qualities that are passed on, and although natural selection is not really that simple, it does raise the question, why black cats? What is it about black cats that makes them successful?  Does the success of the black cat lie outside of the cat itself?  In other words, have people influenced their success in a positive way because people like black cats? Are black cats aesthetically pleasing to have around?  Of course, some superstitious people have created the myth that black cats are bad luck, especially if they cross your path, that black cats are associated with witchcraft, that black cats are incarnated evil spirits, especially evil female spirits. I do not believe in good or bad luck. These are external values that we create in our minds to explain the things that happen in our lives, but good and bad things happen, and many accidental things–weather, geophysics, third parties–are completely out of our control, but good luck or bad luck are inventions of our minds that have nothing to do with the empirical world.  Bad luck is nothing but a specific non-objective interpretation of events. That we would associate a certain color animal with bad luck is irrational and frivolous. A black cat in Texas, for example, just needs to stay out of the sun, but the completely black cat is a study in feline design, a predator with sharp teeth and nasty claws ready to kill at a moment’s notice, just like any other cat, Tabby or Persian, white or party-color. In other words, black cats are not much different than Bengal Tiger, except they can purr, tigers roar. I imagine that black cats, like most other less flamingly decorated cats, only want to be fed, left alone, played with–you know, cat life, and that black cats probably don’t even realize that they are black cats or that they have special evil bad luck powers.  People project their own weird obsessions and repressions on small, strangely colored predators for no reason at all.  Do white cats have special powers as well?

On black cats

Posted on by

Black cats seem to be an evolutionary oddity.  Being as black as night doesn’t seem to be the best camouflage for a predator, especially in daylight.  The fact that there are black cats seems to contradict this idea, but natural selection plays no favorites: those will qualities that will promote the production of the next generation will be those qualities that are passed on, and although natural selection is not really that simple, it does raise the question, why black cats? What is it about black cats that makes them successful?  Does the success of the black cat lie outside of the cat itself?  In other words, have people influenced their success in a positive way because people like black cats? Are black cats aesthetically pleasing to have around?  Of course, some superstitious people have created the myth that black cats are bad luck, especially if they cross your path, that black cats are associated with witchcraft, that black cats are incarnated evil spirits, especially evil female spirits. I do not believe in good or bad luck. These are external values that we create in our minds to explain the things that happen in our lives, but good and bad things happen, and many accidental things–weather, geophysics, third parties–are completely out of our control, but good luck or bad luck are inventions of our minds that have nothing to do with the empirical world.  Bad luck is nothing but a specific non-objective interpretation of events. That we would associate a certain color animal with bad luck is irrational and frivolous. A black cat in Texas, for example, just needs to stay out of the sun, but the completely black cat is a study in feline design, a predator with sharp teeth and nasty claws ready to kill at a moment’s notice, just like any other cat, Tabby or Persian, white or party-color. In other words, black cats are not much different than Bengal Tiger, except they can purr, tigers roar. I imagine that black cats, like most other less flamingly decorated cats, only want to be fed, left alone, played with–you know, cat life, and that black cats probably don’t even realize that they are black cats or that they have special evil bad luck powers.  People project their own weird obsessions and repressions on small, strangely colored predators for no reason at all.  Do white cats have special powers as well?