Ok. Here it is.
Peking Moon
Did you ever think, when you eat Chinese, it ain't pork or chicken, but a fat Siamese.
Yet the food tastes great, so you don't complain, but that's not chicken in your chicken chow mein.
Seems to me I ordered sweet & sour pork, but Garfield's on my fork, he's purrin' here on my fork.
There's a cat in the kettle at the Peking Moon, the place that I eat every day at noon.
They can feed you cat and you'll never know, once tey wrap it up in dough. They fry it real crisp in dough.
I'm afraid to post any more. You people'll stone me if I post any more.
A song I found
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[Syl]
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that song is in bad taste. 
i'm not ultra-pc, so i won't stone you, not even in the bob dylan sense of the word.
seriously, tho, i didn't think cat was in the chinese regimen. dog in some parts, yes. still, if i was hungry... heck, or even just feeling adventurous. i've had pet cows and i still eat beef. food just tastes better when you know it.
A bit long, but I can't resist
i'm not ultra-pc, so i won't stone you, not even in the bob dylan sense of the word.seriously, tho, i didn't think cat was in the chinese regimen. dog in some parts, yes. still, if i was hungry... heck, or even just feeling adventurous. i've had pet cows and i still eat beef. food just tastes better when you know it.
A bit long, but I can't resist
A large dairy animal approached Zaphod Beeblebrox's table, a large fat meaty quadruped of the bovine type with large watery eyes, small horns and what might almost have been an ingratiating smile on its lips.
"Good evening," it lowed and sat back heavily on its haunches, "I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in parts of my body?" It harrumphed and gurgled a bit, wriggled its hind quarters into a more comfortable position and gazed peacefully at them.
Its gaze was met by looks of startled bewilderment from Arthur and Trillian, a resigned shrug from Ford Prefect and naked hunger from Zaphod Beeblebrox.
"Something off the shoulder perhaps?" suggested the animal, "Braised in a white wine sauce?"
"Er, your shoulder?" said Arthur in a horrified whisper.
"But naturally my shoulder, sir," mooed the animal contentedly, "nobody else's is mine to offer."
Zaphod leapt to his feet and started prodding and feeling the animal's shoulder appreciatively.
"Or the rump is very good," murmured the animal. "I've been exercising it and eating plenty of grain, so there's a lot of good meat there." It gave a mellow grunt, gurgled again and started to chew the cud. It swallowed the cud again.
"Or a casserole of me perhaps?" it added.
"You mean this animal actually wants us to eat it?" whispered Trillian to Ford.
"Me?" said Ford, with a glazed look in his eyes, "I don't mean anything."
"That's absolutely horrible," exclaimed Arthur, "the most revolting thing I've ever heard."
"What's the problem Earthman?" said Zaphod, now transferring his attention to the animal's enormous rump.
"I just don't want to eat an animal that's standing here inviting me to," said Arthur, "it's heartless."
"Better than eating an animal that doesn't want to be eaten," said Zaphod.
"That's not the point," Arthur protested. Then he thought about it for a moment. "Alright," he said, "maybe it is the point. I don't care, I'm not going to think about it now. I'll just... er..."
The Universe raged about him in its death throes.
"I think I'll just have a green salad," he muttered.
"May I urge you to consider my liver?" asked the animal, "it must be very rich and tender by now, I've been force-feeding myself for months."
"A green salad," said Arthur emphatically.
"A green salad?" said the animal, rolling his eyes disapprovingly at Arthur.
"Are you going to tell me," said Arthur, "that I shouldn't have green salad?"
"Well," said the animal, "I know many vegetables that are very clear on that point. Which is why it was eventually decided to cut through the whole tangled problem and breed an animal that actually wanted to be eaten and was capable of saying so clearly and distinctly. And here I am."
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
-George Steiner
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Reisheiruhime
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[Syl]
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I like cats...
...they taste like chicken.
mwah ah ah.
...they taste like chicken.
mwah ah ah.
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
-George Steiner
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Reisheiruhime
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duchess of malfi
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