Funny picture with blog of the day - The Comforting-Channel-Addicted and Chariot Coasting Cat Caper                                       

Good day my fine friends today’s picture and blog are of a particular post-prosperity predicament of a pet pal of mine.   I had decided to impose my lovable self on my entertainment contemporary to see how he was faring under the globally phenomenal success of entities of feline form.   I was not however prepared for the shock that ruffled, to a severe state of unsettlement, both my nervous constitution and rapidly inflaming temper.   My cat chum had, as a result of basking in the global glow of newly acclaimed limelight, embarked on a spree of extravagance of such magnitude ‘twas enough to bring about a rivalry questionability as to whom was the most frivolous with their fortune fruits, his once-good-self or M’laydee Beckham.   

He had invested in a luxurious Star-worthy habitat in which to house his also newly acquired uber thin, high definition screen of almost cinematic size for entertainment purpose, which after viewing its content I must impart, in the public interest, there are certain programmes and personalities that should not be exposed onto the good public unless there is a mandatory maximum-cap-pable-quota as to pixel output.
   
A further investment was in the form of what can only be described, due to its castor’d base allowing either deliberate manipulation and often inadvertent acceleration in all directions as it coasted about under its own cocky doing, as a veritable idle-cad chariot. 

He reclined in this sturdy, smartly and texturedly upholstered, enviable throne-carriage combo not with majestic but an almost indolent grace.   However, admittedly and admirably, he intermittently mastered said chariot, when ‘twas not in wayward mode, with a skill second only to Charlton Heston when depicting Ben Hur.  

The decadent state into which my pal was declining had to be discussed in earnest.  I imparted to him I had witnessed the future as I had seen WALL-E and this was an instance when it was not best that he be ahead of time and modes.  I dutifully informed him that a much too abundant use of an accessory infra red appliance would eventually result in weakened constitution and limbs from, `flipping` fatigue, an accompanying glut of admittedly alluring salty and sweet TV snacks and the abstaining from mustering up the necessary muscular action for partaking in physical applications. 

My horror was heightened when I realised he had watched no less than 3 full seasons and embarked on the 4th of the Waltons without once leaving the comforting harbour of his lazy-chap chair.  Now, I would never dare to venture on challenging a Walton’s-watch-fest except for the question of lack of brief interludes for attending to essential and intimate duties.  He vigorously defended with “LemMe it’s ‘The Walton’s” and I saw instantly the common sensibility of his words and contently joined him just in time to see an early episode of series 4 in which Lyle the boy-wonder-genius whose 16 year being had incurred such a psychological barrier to all emotion and nigh on all but scientific and methodical formulas that his state was comparable to that of, and enough to even incredulously incur a riddling of envy in, a Vulcan.  This said state however was unable to withstand, and any such resistance was futile to the, penetration by the Walton’s permeating aura of love and wholesomeness and for the first time in his youthful existence formulas and math were cast aside to allow love and other human emotions to riddle his being.

For another 3 series my pal and I entered a world, without once disembarking from our perches, that was almost bereft of bounders, cads and wastrals and we lived for three days in a state of absolute bliss but emerged bleary eyed and in such a state it took another two days to loosen our rigid limbs.