It has come to my attention that a certain celebrity feline has declared her candidacy for president. Notwithstanding Hank, I am America’s most established feline politico. So, if Hello Kitty wants to step into the ring, I’m going to step up.
In America, people running for president launch attack ads for two reasons. One is that positive ads about your candidate can only swing undecided voters, while negative ads can take support away from your opponent. But I know the bigger reason, and it’s much simpler. Attack ads are more fun.
Look at it this way: If you’re going to be in a fight, do you want to spend your energy defending yourself or beating up on the other guy? Of course, you want to beat up on the other guy. Among human candidates, simply fighting it out on the living-room floor isn’t acceptable, which is a shame, because presidential debates would be so much more entertaining if it were. So, instead, humans say mean things about one another.
So here goes. Hello Kitty would be a terrible president, and here’s why:
1. I’m pretty sure she’s not a citizen. Hello Kitty is the front-cat for a Japanese company called Sanrio. She’s from Japan. I’m pretty sure Japan is another country because of the way politicians talk about other countries, and Japan sometimes gets named. I’m certain Japan is part of outside, and we all know that no cat should ever go outside, so there’s clearly something wrong with her. She could end this question relatively quickly by releasing her birth certificate, except that cats don’t have birth certificates. Why would she refuse to release a document that can’t possibly exist? What do you think she’s hiding?
2. Hello Kitty hasn’t released her tax returns. I’ll admit, I don’t know what a tax-return is, but I’ve spent most of my life as a humble apartment cat. I know taxes are somehow related to paychecks, and that until I started writing for Catster, I didn’t get any. Hello Kitty, however, has been a front-cat for Sanrio for as long as I can recall. She must have been paid something for that time. But she doesn’t feel the need to disclose her financial situation with the American kitties. What do you think she’s hiding?
3. Hello Kitty’s campaign has no substance. She’s running on the "Friendship Party." How does she feel about issues? What are her positions on armrests? Gravy? Scritchies? We know nothing about her, except that she claims to want more friends. Real cats don’t want friends. We want human servants, feline minions, and prey. Hello Kitty is clearly lying about her true agenda. What do you think she’s hiding?
4. Hello Kitty has an unnatural alternative lifestyle. Cats are predators, yet she has friends who are bats, frogs, and other small varmints. You know what cats do to bats, frogs, and other small varmints? We kill them and either eat their delicious insides or offer them as presents to the humans we love. But she keeps them as "friends." I think she’s either lying about her friendships or about something far larger — maybe even whether she’s a cat at all. What do you think she’s hiding?
In attack ads, it helps to use rhetorical devices. A "rhetorical device" is a means of repeating something over and over, ad nauseaum. "Ad nauseum" means until people are sick of hearing it. My rhetorical device is a computer that we used to repeat "What do you think she’s hiding?" until you’re (hopefully) sick of hearing it and will believe it just to shut me up.
I know there are some people who would say that this attack ad is gratuitous and unnecessary, but, I’d like to remind you all that I am a cat. We attack each other. It’s what we do, and, if Ms. Kitty (if that is her real name) wants to do something about it, she’s welcome to come to my house and she can debate me. And by debate, I mean fight it out on the living-room floor.