Listen Up, Christmas.

I know you're coming on Saturday. People who have more obligations and bigger extended families than I tend to dread you, but I always enjoy your visits. Family and togetherness and presents and alcohol are all well and good (preferably all at once, since that lends itself to drunken sobbing and kitchen appliances being hurled at one another), and I like shiny red bows as much as the next person. I'm still not sure why you keep bringing up that Jesus guy, though.

Not pictured: Mary's alcoholic uncle.

Dear History Channel,

You used to be my favorite cable network, and The Universe is still pretty awesome (whenever you actually decide to air it). Back in my bartending days, I especially appreciated how you would still air shows at 3 a.m. while the rest of the cable networks crapped out and switched to infomercials.

But I've got a bone to pick with you. This:

Is not history. Neither is this:

Why Cats Make Terrible Models

So, I have this cat. (I have two, actually, but let's stick with just this one.) Her name is Molly. Molly is... okay, I don't know if there's a feline equivalent of "functionally retarded," but pretend that there is. That's Molly.

Don't get me wrong: she is a sweetheart. She purrs a lot and likes to sit next to me on the couch when I watch football, and she likes to talk. Molly's pretty sassy. She's also dumber than a box of hair. She doesn't understand food as a concept, nor how to eat a treat out of her human's hand. When dinnertime rolls around, she doesn't realize that there is a plate of food and yes, it is in fact for her, unless you shove it in front of her face and slowly walk her plate across the kitchen and set it next to her water bowl. Walk too fast and you've lost her forever, but succeed and she'll sniff it, perhaps taste a bite or two, and then walk off while the other cat helps himself to her meal.

She also, bless her heart, has buck teeth. Honest-to-god fangs sticking out even when her mouth is closed. It's pretty adorable. So when the vet predicted that her current bout of gingivitis would eventually lead to her losing all her teeth, I set out to capture photographic evidence of her fangs before she lost them. This afternoon I found her lounging in a sunbeam, and thought it to be an opportune time. As it turns out, bright sunlight does not really cooperate with my camera.

 Not only did I fail in capturing the fangs on camera, but she looks a little bit like a James Bond villain here, or something from the scarier parts of Revelation.