My Cousin, Hank

Snooch to the booch, mes amis, the Whiz is on the Prowl again. That's right, you read that correctly. I spelled Prowl with a capital P. It's kind of like in Winnie-the-Pooh where A.A. Milne capitalizes various words to make them more important? What? You never read Winne-the-Pooh? Get the fuck out of here, Communist.

Okay, for the rest of you who made it through, the Big Man has handed me the keys to the blog today so that I can tell you about my famous cousin, Hank. Apparently, Hank is this week's Monday Frivolity. Whatever. I'm just doing this because the Big Man cranked open a can of tuna this weekend and the Whiz was on Cloud Nine Saturday night. See how it is? You scratch my back, the Whiz provides you with an amusing blog post.

Anyway, we're here to talk about my cousin, Hank. You see, Hank's hit the Big Time. That's right, he's a movie star. He's bordering on Internet Sensation, even, if you can believe it. I'd say I'm a little jealous, but the Whiz is above such petty things. I like to keep my deadly sins focused more on the lust, wrath and avarice side of the aisle. I'm happy for Hank, especially when you consider that he's named for a propane salesman from Arlen, TX (the Whiz and his family are big fans of Texas...get it? Big? Texas? Wait, where are all those crickets coming from?). For most of his life, Hank's been trying to break through the aluminum foil ceiling that keeps us cats down. I mean, seriously, most of the famous cats in the world are either a lot funnier when they aren't around or are just plain effing stupid. Hank, though, he's special. He even went out and learned French for this role. Granted, his accent is a little suspect and some of the translations are a bit off, but, hey, the Whiz claps his fuzzy little paws together in salutation for his cuz.

The only problem is that now Hank's a total prima donna. Yeah, that's right, Hank, I'm calling you out and I'm calling you a woman. Return my phone calls, buddy. I'm not trying to ride your coattails, I'm just trying to find out if you know what happened to cousin Rudy. Christ, man, your little box stinks as bad as anyone else's. Stop flipping your tail around all the time, you pampered little shit. I'm a wizard; I can turn you into a carbuncle. Pick up the damned phone already.

Anyway, in case you were interested, here's Hank's film. Feel free to call him and congratulate him on his fifteen minutes, or should I say "ses quinze minutes"? Yeah, I can speak French, too, Hank. And Latin. I mean, I am a freaking wizard, after all. So, piss off with your bad, cool self.

Anyway, if any of you do congratulate him, tell him to give his cuz the Whiz a ring-a-ding-ding. I need to know what he's taking to the carry-in family reunion at Aunt Donna's this weekend. Thanks and much love.