Three months ago I announced my plans to become a Goa'uld System Lord and thus learn the secrets of unagi. As I outlined in that post, I have most of the qualifications. However, I foolishly said that the voice would be easy. You can listen to my practice, if you want.

I've actually been doing some research on the Goa'uld voice. Why do the Goa'uld use that particular voice? I mean, you'd think they'd get more street cred among their subjects if they sounded like James Earl Jones, Patrick Stewart, Alan Rickman, Rick Moranis, Ardwight Chamberlain, or Hugo Weaving. Well, it's not about street cred. It's about the voice. The Goa'uld are naturally a little bit reticent to talk about their history, but I think I've found a few connections that shed some light on things. Consider the six books of Frank Herbert's Dune trilogy, which discusses the Bene Gesserit. These Gesserits are clearly some kind of Goa'uld offshoot, although gifted with a sense of patience that the remaining Goa'uld lack. I know some of you must be saying, "But Miss Kitty, if that is true, don't you think at least one professional historian would have noticed that?" You'd be right. I had the chance to check the Herbert Family Vault and look through my man Frank's papers. It turns out that he did, in fact, notice this, and was planning to write a paper about it. However, at some point in the process he discovered that he didn't really like any of the article-writing software, threw a hissy fit, and spent the remaining year or so of his life trying to write an article-setting program to write his paper in. I've actually seen a rough draft of his paper, which was only a page or so long, but it confirms my suspicions. Consider:

1. Both groups are raving egomaniacs.
   
2. Both groups think that Rose Nylund was the best character on Golden Girls.
   
3. Both groups make a habit of altering cultures so that people will see them as gods.
   
4. Both groups use the voice.
   
5. Both groups rely on personal shielding technology.
   
6. Both groups support DRM.
   
7. Both groups have funky stuff going on with their eyes.

Frank's draft pointed that last one out, but I noticed the others on my own.

I've also found evidence that we still have Bene Gesserit or Goa'uld running around Earth. For example, see the documentary Teen Wolf. In it, Michael J. Fox uses the full Goa'uld arsenal to get a keg of beer. Here's a photo of him using the voice and the eyes.


I'm not 100% sure what this means. I can see two options. One is that Michael is, in fact, a Goa'uld or possibly a Tok'ra. The other option is that he is a male Bene Gesserit, which sort of means he's the Kwizatz Haderach. I'm not sure I buy this, but the important thing is that the voice is about power and command.Once I master the voice, I'll be set. All I'll need after that is an army of loyal Jaffa.

Also, I started this whole crazy LiveJournal thing four years ago today. Whee!

If you are like me, you have no doubt noticed a disturbing similarity between this image, taken from the front page of www.unagi.co.jp

and the Goa'uld (courtesy of the Stargate: SG-1 TV series), pictured below.


My keen analytic mind informs me that there must be a connection. In particular, this means the Goa'uld know how to manufacture unagi. Logically, then, if I wish to learn to make unagi, I need to run with the Goa'uld. Impossible, you say? Not so, I say! Consider the key distinguishing features of a Goa'uld:

1. glowing eyes
   
2. deep voice
   
3. stereotyped behavior

Consider the glowing eyes, as shown here below.

That's trivial for me. See?


Deep voice? I can do that. I've got an impressive control over my own voice. Stereotyped behavior? It's easy to do. I'm a talented actor. Basically, I should have no problem physically passing for a Goa'uld. Unfortunately, that probably won't be enough. There are plenty of no-name Goa'uld out there, and I doubt most of them know how to make unagi. Yes, this means I'll have to set myself up as a System Lord. Season 9 of SG-1 significantly lowered the bar on this, but it's not like being a professional movie critic. I can't just make a paper hat with "System Lord" written on it and call myself a System Lord. I'll need a few things. Here's my current list, which may be updated later.

1. an army of loyal Jaffa
   
2. fancy hardware
   
3. Stargate access
   
4. a good icon for all of this, which is in the works (Edit: done)

I will be recruiting Jaffa in the near future, but don't kree yourselves into a frenzy just yet. I've got one volunteer already (siderealengine), but we're still working on the details. I'll post more on those as my research progresses

Miss Kitty went in to the doctor last Thursday. Her white blood cell count was too low for chemo, but they couldn't feel the lump in her abdomen and the chest x-ray didn't show much of the cancer around her lungs. We're going to take her back Thursday. She's back up to 7 lbs.

She also got some unagi tonight. It's fascinating to watch her eat unagi. Here's how she eats other foods:
*sniff* *sniff* *sniff* *moves head farther away from food* *sniff* *sniff* *moves head close to food* *sniff* *moves head right over food* *sniff* *moves head well past food* *sniff* *sniff* *sniff* *sniff* *sniff* *sniff* *eventually moves head over food* *lick* *lick* *pick up in mouth* *drop* *pick up in mouth* *drop bits* *drop rest* *lick* *pick up in mouth* *drop* *repeat until about 30% of the food has been worked into whatever surface it was sitting on*

Here's how she eats unagi:
*sniff* *sniff* *sniff* *moves head farther away from food* *sniff* *moves head right over food* *inhales* *licks until she has removed the top 3mm of the surface on which the unagi once rested* *stares at me until she gets more*

--The Management

Today is my birthday. Thank you to everyone who has wished me a good one. I'll give you a general rundown on how it has been.

First, I'm feeling okay. I'm not feeling great, but I'm okay. I like my pillow. Actually, I love it. I don't know how I've managed to live without this. Thank you, J & J!

Unfortunately, the company that manufactures unagi for sale in the United States seems to have recalled their supply, so I wasn't able to eat any today. I'm looking forward to some treats, though.

My parents called about a week ago to wish me happy birthday. I'll try to convey as clear a sense of the conversation as I can. To get as close to reality as I can, imagine that my dad is played by Walter Matthau, my mom is played by Jack Lemmon, and I'm played by Dooley Wilson (not credited).

ME: Hello?

MOM: Hi, Sweetie!

DAD: Now what kind of way is that to talk to WOTC Tech Support?

MOM: It's Miss Kitty, you idiot!

DAD: I have a question about the Necropotence card. Can you--- Wait, Miss Kitty? How the Hell are ya, son?

ME: I'm fine.

DAD: Oh.

ME: I've got cancer.

MOM: Can it be treated?

DAD: I'm not paying for it.

MOM: Miss Kitty wasn't going to ask for help. You weren't going to, were you, Dear?

ME: No, I'm fine. I'm getting treatment.

DAD: Damnit.

MOM: Don't say things like that.

DAD: Do you want me to lie?

MOM: Well, I lie. Mommy's very sorry about your... cancer, was it?

ME: Yeah. Cancer.

MOM: Does the treatment hurt?

ME: Yeah.

MOM: ... ... That's... really... um... Anyhow, we're just calling to wish you a happy birthday.

ME: My birthday is next week.

DAD: We kinda figured that, but we probably won't have time to call you next week, whenever it may be. The TV is broken right now, so we've got nothing else to do. Happy birthday!

ME: Gee, thanks.

MOM: Honey, I see a squirrel through the window. We've got to go. I'm glad you are doing well.

DAD: Bye.


I got a card from them yesterday. I'm kind of touched that they thought of me enough to send one, even if it does say, "Sorry you've got the mange!" I was really surprised when they called again this morning. It went something along these lines.

MOM: How's Mommy's little moron?

DAD: That's how you talk to Tech Support! Moron!

ME: It's Miss Kitty.

MOM: Who?

DAD: From Gunsmoke?

ME: Your daughter.

MOM: Oh, yeah. Whoops.

DAD: Make yourself useful, son. Tell Daddy how to make the damn VCR clock stop flashing.

MOM: Come on, Sweetie. Tell us how to make the nasty clock stop flashing.

ME: I'm not sure. I think you have to set it or something like that. It's my birthday, you know.

MOM: Oh. So you can't really help? Bye.

DAD: I knew we should have called collect!


So yeah, my birthday was pretty good. I got a card. I got to talk to my parents. I'm going to get treats at some point. I've got an awesome pillow. It doesn't get much better.

Last night (this morning, actually), I started having trouble breathing. I tried to get assaultdoor to give me a squirt of that asthma spray that he pops like it's going out of style, but he wouldn't. Instead, everyone bundled me up in a blanket, stuffed me in a car, and drove me at like 320kph to the local vet hospital. They put me in some kind of plastic tank full of oxygen, which was pretty nice. I see why oxygen bars are all the rage these days. Oxygen is nice and harmless, while alcohol is used to kill microbes and preserve foods that nobody would actually eat the first time. Anyhow, this tank was probably a lot like what the Spacing Guild navigators use, except that it had oxygen and not Spice. Then they ran some tests and poked me with needles. I was hooked up to some kind of machine, and they had to shave my wrist to get an IV into me. I'm hoping they come out with a V soon, since the IV isn't that much fun. I feel sorry for all of the people in the days of old who had to use the III, however.

Now that I have a bare patch on my wrist, I'm thinking of selling advertising space. I was thinking of getting a tattoo of Wel-Pac unagi, but perhaps some other corporate entity would be willing to pay me more. If you are, work for, or know any corporate entities, let them know that I'm walking, talking, super-awesome kitty signage and I'm open for business.

I'm feeling pretty good right now. I actually made it home, and I'm not having any trouble breathing. The doc said that there wasn't that much fluid around my lungs, so the trouble I had was probably just excitement. I'm going to try the quiet life from now on.

I saw several bridges on the way home. Just in case some of you have never seen one before, let me tell you something. Bridges are mean, nasty little bastards. They just sneak up on you, jump out, and scream "RAR!" or "LHA!" or "ARJ!" or something crazy like that. Then they run away. They scare me, and I'd dearly love to see them all torn down. Stupid bridges. I hate them so damned much.

Update: After looking at some of the forms that came with me from the hospital, I found out something really amazing. I actually have a first name! It's Kitty. I think. Maybe it's Miss and I have the middle name of Kitty. Maybe Miss is a generational name and all of my cousins also have it, and Kitty is my personal name. I don't remember my parents being Chinese or Korean, but I could be mistaken. I'm a little worried that it's actually a double first name, kind of like JoAnne or Jo Ellen or Mary Sue or Donald Rumsfeld. I really don't want to sound like I'm from Arkansas or really awful fanfic, I'm pretty sure my family isn't from Asia, and that my first name isn't Miss, so I'm going to say that my given name is Kitty. My family name, according to this form, is Ryan. This is quite a coincidence, as Ryan is also the family name of the people who drove me to the hospital.

So for those of you who are cats or know people who are cats, I have an important public service announcement. Unagi, while mighty tasty, is hard to come by. Purina's Whisker Lickin's, chicken & liver flavors, is pretty freakin' tasty. Man alive, that's tasty stuff, and it's more than an acceptable substitute for unagi.

I've been watching old episodes of Stargate SG-1 and I am intrigued. Sometimes it's serious. Sometimes it's funny. It's always entertaining, though. I was just watching the episode in which ( SPOILERS )

Also, I've noticed that the Goa'uld larvae look an awful lot like pictures you find on tins of unagi. This makes me think that they may know how to manufacture it. For that matter, they may have taught humans how to manufacture it. This is something I must investigate more closely.

I'm thinking of hiring a gentleman's gentleman. In less sexist and racist language, I'm thinking of hiring a gallinaceous butler. However, what with butlers being all feudal, I thought it would be kind of absurd for me to describe it in any way but the old-fashioned one. Anyhow, I was looking through back copies of the newspaper and found the cutest picture of a chicken butler:



His name is Peep, and from what I can gather from his home page, he has a college degree. I mean, I don't think they'd let him wear a black millboard for a regular high school graduation. Yep, I'm going to hire a college-educated chicken. His home page doesn't have that much information on his educational background, but I'm hoping he has a degree in cooking or quantum mechanics or philosophy or Japanese or psychology or unagi engineering or something like that.

I guess I'm going to have to cross chicken-related products off my to-eat list. Fortunately, I can probably convert them to turkey.

Updates to the to-eat list

• chicken strudel
  
• turkey strudel
  
• chicken Julius
  
• turkey Julius
  
• turkey fingers
  
• turkey cheesecake

I'm expecting good things to come from having a chicken to buttle for me. If I'm hungry, I'll be able to say, "Peeps," for that is his name, "I'm feeling a bit peckish." Then he'll say, "Would Madam like some turkey strudel?" Then I'll say, "With a glass of pheasant Julius, if you don't mind." Then he'll say, "Not at all." Then he'll scuttle out of the room on his little chicken feet, whip up some delicious food, and bring it back. He'll present all of this to me on a silver plate while saying, "I hope Madam doesn't mind, but I took the liberty of preparing an unagi and hotdog salad." Score!

• unagi and hotdog salad

He'll also change the way I interact with people. If you want to scritch me, you can leave your card with my man Peep. He'll make sure you have a comfortable place to sit on the stairs, don his bowler hat, and butlerize off to find me. I'll read your card and, if I like you, I'll invite you into my drawing room (which Peep will need to build at some point in the near future) where you can scritch me. If I don't like you, Peep will take off his bowler hat and jacket and tell you to shove off. If you don't go, he'll get rough and call you "cully" and butlerate your ass out of the house.