This clip reminds me of the time I auditioned for a part in the horror movie "The Cat", based on the classic Gothic tale by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Basically, the story was that a cat haunted a house and eventually got bricked up inside a wall. It kept mewing and annoying people, and for some reason they were all pretty scared by that. Anyway, I wanted the role of "Albert", the guy who bricked up the cat. He was supposed to be about 80 years old, so of course I had to get myself inside the head of a geriatric cat torturer. I studied videos of Donald Rumsfeld for weeks, and reckoned I had the character well sorted out. When I went for the screen test, I took a stuffed pussy with me so that I could demonstrate how I'd deal with the crucial scene - "The Bricking Up". Unfortunately, when I was on the subway heading to the studio, I got mugged by a couple of Puerto Ricans who said they'd cut my balls off if I ddin't hand over the cat. They looked ral hungry, so I gave it to them, plus my wallet, watch and ipod. So when I got to the lot, I felt kinda out of character, and the whole thing was a shambles. Never mind.
There are obvious municipal and animal code violations in this scenerio but I would be a little more creative and charge her with pimping or running a house of ill repute.
She's just doing what I've been doing and the presidents that follow me will do with the Mexicans. Throw them some crums to bring them over for potential future votes. So what if they shit and piss all over the carpet and piss off my neighbors/fellow citizens.
This is some type of mental illness. At my old house I worked 12 hours a day and spent 2 hours on the road. My wife started feeding stray cats. One weekend I counted the cats, we had 25. I let her keep 3 and I took the rest to the pound. But it's some type of mental thing where they feel needed if something is depending on them.
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