First let’s celebrate with theorists and cats!

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Aw Derrida

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The panopticon seems a little less scary when you’re holding a cat.

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Bakhtin and one of his mysterious unfinalizable cats

And second let’s celebrate with these lines from Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock:”

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

The final step is to pet a cat, but I can’t help you there.

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