Lecherous Broads For Clay Aiken!
Lecherous Broads for Clay Aiken!

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11:59 a.m.

Cat Attack Squad

As Mr. Clayton Holmes Aiken embarks on his coming tour, many are concerned for his safety. Yes, he has his bodyguards. But how much can big burly men with firearms be counted upon to protect him? He needs greater protection than mere humans can provide.

He needs the Cat Attack Squad.

Many of you will recall the origins of this unique fighting brigade. We began way back in November when a certain nefarious organization claiming to be crusading for animal rights attacked our young hero in the most vicious way. They justified their despicable slander by accusing him of being a cat hater.

Now, we cats are too smart to fall for such shenanigans. We knew immediately that said organization was full of dirty kitty litter. And, being the valiant creatures we are, we joined together to fight the good fight, to defend Clay's honor, and to show the world (and Mr. Aiken, for that matter) that cats, not dogs (no offense, Raleigh), are the most loyal and true members of the domesticated animal world.

Since I was already in somewhat of a leadership position, what with my status as HTML Master and Feline Idol, I stepped forward to spearhead the cause.

My first action was to make a fancy uniform for myself.

Don't I look smashing? Don't worry, the rest of the cats will soon also have fancy uniforms. (Although perhaps not quite as fancy as mine.)

With that important task out of the way, I then contacted some old friends and longtime members of my fan club who I knew I could count on to lend their support to the cause.

Grizzy, always the first to volunteer, immediately came forward and stepped into the role of camp follower, which is perfectly suited to her talents.

Puss, the most cold-blooded and ruthless cat of them all, was appointed head of our special operations unit, the Purple Berets.

Puss will be aided by her second-in-command, Smudge, who has been described as "mean and insane," as she leads this elite fighting force on the most dangerous missions. For example, we may need the Purple Berets to protect Clay when Melissa tries to rush the stage.

Freckles in Fl has been sent to infiltrate the enemy. With her beauty and wily ways, she has the makings of a spy the likes of which we've not seen since Mata Hari.

We had hoped to partner her with another spy, Maddie, but we have suspicions that he may be a double agent.

Nightmare will head our intelligence forces. She claims to be the mastermind of her household already, so she already has the skills and brainpower.

Jason, because of his uncanny resemblance to me, will be my body double. He will be given a fancy uniform just like mine and will distract and confuse any enemy forces who attempt to capture me.

After gathering the support of my friends, I sent out a general call to arms among the Clay Cat community. Now, while some people may consider cats to be selfish, lazy creatures, it is a testament to our courage and honor that so many of you immediately stepped forward, leaving behind the luxury of housecat life--the naps, the sunny windows, the treats, the lace pillows--to enter the harsh world of a feline paramilitary organization.

I heard from cats far and wide. East coast, west coast, deep south and snowy north. They came from all over this great country and from Canada as well.

Dusty, Jack, and Maggie May all answered the call. So did Tic Toc, Fonzie, Sunny, Phoebe, Jack, Emily, Linus, Baby, Samantha, Boomerang, McCartney, Snidely Sampson, Dotts, Ralph, Nicholas, Gabriella, Charlotte, Lisi, Maci, Lily, Lolly, Fuzzy, Furby, and Ishmael.

Without hesitation, Stephen immediately packed his suitcase and joined us, asking not what Clay could do for him but what he could do for Clay.

A set of siblings with hunting experience--Socks, Stripes, Big Mama, and the appropriately named Buttercup--bravely volunteered for the front line. Cosmo, known for his stealth in the dark of night, will be our advance scout.

We benefit from the expertise of several cats in our ranks with military experience and expertise, like Ariel Sharon, named after the Israeli general, and Private Shivers Eh, of the Royal Canadian Mounted Felines.

Strong female cats like Sophie, "a ferocious female who hisses as quickly as she purrs, and is very quick on the four claw draw," prove that there should be equal opportunity in our fighting forces.

Even our youngest members, like the "itty bitty feisty kitty" Taylor, eagerly signed up. Her razor-sharp kitten claws and boundless energy will be valuable assets to our team.

I was personally touched to receive letters from so many other neutered male cats eager to prove the true measure of a tom. I heard from Felix and Sherman the Tank, who wrote that "Although we are neutered, we are nonetheless 'manly' felines. We would like to add our paws to the pile, and will gladly join the furry forces in defense of our favorite singer, Clay." Likewise, Marzipan and Riley "are gentlemen in every sense of the word, except for one…or maybe two…make that four. But have been known to be very feisty when the occasion merits." They'll be joined by Norbert, whose letter of reference stated that "He's pretty, but he's all man. Sort of. Or used to be. But still is. You know what I mean."

Since November, we, the Cat Attack Squad, have been rigorously training at Cat Attack Boot Camp (though we did have a little trouble getting Puss in her boots).

Yes, the cowardly organization that led us to mobilize in the first place has since put their tail between their legs and run. But we have not disbanded, for we realized that Clay would face more challenges along the road. We need to be prepared.

I mean, what greater threat could he face than this tour? When he's confronted by dozens of swooning Broads? Who will protect him when Robin tries to lick him? Or when Diana Kilbridge whips out the spatula? Yes, the Cat Attack Squad is needed more now than ever.

We've used the most advanced training methods available. For example, here you see Henry and Bailey viewing our special training films, designed to sharpen the primal instincts often dulled by years of Pounce and Fancy Feast.

We also have sophisticated technology and instrumentation. Ginny and Cali, two of our reconnaissance experts, are testing the latest in sonar listening devices.

We've endured endless drills and maneuvers. Here Maggie demonstrates how she would use kung fu to take down an overzealous fan.

It's been a lot of work, requiring a lot of dedication and courage. But the Cat Attack Squad is up for the challenge.

And I'm pleased to announce that on this glorious day, the day when the Aiken will take Charlotte, then the country, and eventually the world, we are ready.


--By Generalissimo Odin

--assisted by Katynka and by the many humans who have supported our brave soldiers, including Cindy, MS Kathleen, Kelly, Robin, Amber, Lila, Karen Eh, Karen Nyere, Lisa M., Pam, Jill, Nelle, Melissa, Danielle, Mya, Diana, Jenny O, Brandy, Jannet, Ruth, Filly Sue, Kati, Gini, Brenda in Raleigh, Sheri in Seattle, MGM Pat, K in RI, and Erin.

Edited to add:
Odin was touched to receive this moving poetic tribute from Burrcat (with Gini's help):


Odin was a brave cat who traveled on a bus
In fact he was the smartest cat who roamed among us
From LA to Charlotte he pursued his noble aim
Rejoicing in his title of "Protector of CHA"
The residents of Charlotte knew something of his fame
At Cary and Swan Quarter people shuddered at this name
They would fortify their houses and shoo away the mouse
When the rumors ran all over the web
That Odin's in the house
His manners and appearance calculate to please
His coat was sleek and shiny, it did fit him with ease
His ears were up and on alert, no need to tell you why
And he scowled upon a rowdy crowd, with a forbidding eye
Now CHA begins to croon with the kicky little dance
The lights were shining bright upon his georgeous countenance
Odin and his squad stand guard with valor and with grace
We can sleep and dream in peace this night, knowing CHA is safe

This poem was adapted from "Growltiger's Last Stand" written by T.S. Eliot.

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