My Point...And I Do Have One

Muffin have the right to jump up on my furniture. Also, they have the right to wake me up, clutching balls in their mouths, to see if I want to play. These are not rights I would give to a raccoon or a cougar. Though, if a cougar woke me up with a ball in its mouth, I’d probably play with him. You know, just to be safe. But the next night I would make sure all the doors were locked. I’m not crazy.
    Also, I don’t believe that animals should have the right to vote, but I do allow Bootsie to help me with my absentee ballot. Muffin doesn’t care about politics.
    It is amazing to me how perceptive pets are and how sensitive they are to their environment. Just look at how they behave before an earthquake. Before the Northridge quake, Bootsie and Muffin were very anxious. They knew it was going to happen. They were in the doorway, telling me to hurry up and join them. Bootsie had grabbed a few cans of food and Muffin had some extra batteries and a little bottle of brandy. They knew.
    Though I have dogs now, for most of my life I’ve had cats as pets. I, personally (in some ways, but not in others), like cats more than dogs (with no offense meant to either Bootsie or Muffin). But have you ever had a cat in heat? They just change on you. Once she was my kitten, my adorable little pet. Then, she’s a hooker. I went into the bathroom one night, and she was putting on mascara, “
To
-night,
to
-night, won’t be just any … la la. Hm, hm.” She didn’t know the whole song. “Hm, hm.” She just knew some of the words. “Hm, hm.”
    She was an indoor cat, but male cats knew she was in there somehow. They were just all around the house and somehow she was sneaking out because one morning Ifound a stamp on her paw. I wouldn’t have noticed, but I had just bought this new black light, and she passed right under it. “Hey! What is that?” I said.
    And the male cats, they were sneaky the way they tried to get in to see her. One of them disguised himself as a UPS man. He had the truck, the packages, everything. I said, “I’m not falling for that.” The suit was just hanging off of him, his little name tag said “Fluffy.” “Oh, right. I will
not
sign here. Scoot!” He went off all mad in that big truck, stripping the gears. They don’t know how to drive! Cats.
    He came back the next day as a cable repairman. Same outfit, little butt crack hanging out this time. So he fooled me. I let him in. He got me Nickelodeon for free, hooked that up somehow. So now I get to see all the old shows.
    Smart cat—I’d like to see his test scores!

ask ellen
or

it might look like honey,
it might taste like honey,
and bless my corns,
it might even
be
honey

    D uring the early 1980s, before I became one of America’s most beloved comedians (at least that’s what Mom calls me; well, she either calls me that or Señorita Monkeyshines) I earned my keep by writing a column called ASK ELLEN OR DON’T ASK ELLEN, IT’S ENTIRELY UP TO YOU AND ABSOLUTELY NO SKIN OFF MY NOSE EITHER WAY, THOUGH IF YOU EVER EXPECT TO GET AN ANSWER THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS ASK … ELLEN THAT IS.” Most papers shortened this to ASK ELLEN since the entire title took up all my allotted space. This column, where people would ask me whatever was on their minds, ran in twenty newspapers, nineteen of which were in the Canadian province of Saskatchewan.
    I have received many letters asking me to reprint some of my favorite ASK ELLENs. I have received a whole lot more letters begging me
not
to reprint them. I, however, prefer to dwell on the positive (and get away with not writing something new). So without any further ado (or to be honest with just the cutest little teeny bit of ado) here are some of my favorites. Enjoy!
    Dear Ellen,
Hi I am eight years old. The other day I went to my neighbor’s house and asked him if I could borrow his toupee for Show and Tell. He told me, “Go to Heck!” I didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded bad. So I told him to Fuck Himself. What is Heck?
    Signed, Curious.
    Dear Curious,
Many people think that Heck is just a polite way of saying Hell. Those people are as wrong as wrong can be (and believe me, wrong can be pretty damn wrong). Heck is just to the left of Hell; it’s a suburb ofHell. Heck is a little bit nicer than Hell. For instance, Heck has Dairy Queens and you don’t have to pay as much for car insurance. People in Hell wish that they were in Heck.
    But as nice as Heck might be (and in all honesty,