To all the peoples on the innernets, this is Senator Henry Jackson Edward Graves III speakin'. Now it's my turn to tell you how I gots my name. First of all, I ain't got no idea where I was borneded or where I came from. I just know that some how I showeded up with my brother and sister at my Aunt Sally and Unkle John's house. They was my foster parents from the Henrico Humane Society.
Back in the them days, I gots to tell you, I was brilliant. Brilliant and oh so very cute. Aunt Sally's friend (my soon-to-be mommy) thought I was wonnerful and smart. But one day...somethin' started to go wrong...way wrong. See, Aunt Sally would go to work and leave me with Unkle John. He would watch Fox News all day long...them evil vibes soakin' into my little head day-in and day-out...soon my little brain just started to dry up. It seemed like one night I went to bed a brilliant boy cat with a future destined for greatness and woke up the next mornin' dumber than a box of dirt. I was sufferin' from FNBI...Fox News Brain Injury.
When I lived with Aunt Sally and Unkle John, my name was Jag...who knows what that name was about...it was probably some secret code word that only Anne Coulter unnerstands. After my soon-to-be mommy got to know me, she realized that my light bulb was turnin' dim. She said "Well, I gots to git him away from that evil Fox influence...fast! Jag must come to stay with me." So she packed me up and moved me to her home. By that time, my brain just couldn't think straight anymore. FNBI is some serious stuff, people.
Mommy feeled real bad for me 'cause I had a injured brain and all...I couldn't meow...I would (and still do) bark like a seal instead of meow, I poop in the floor and in the bath tub and in mommy's shoes...you git the gyst (by the way, mommy has had me checked to make sure there ain't nothin' wrong with me like a infekshun or somethin')...Also, if one kitty swats my butt from behind, I will swat the kitty standin' in front of me 'cause I just don't unnerstand that it was somebody behind me.
So, in other words, I am dumb. Mommy said, "We must find a name that will somehow help Jag be respected and keep the other cats from makin' fun of him...even though he really is dumber than a box of rocks...why, I know...he will be a Senator! Let's see...hmmmm....Senator Henry Graves...no, that's not it...Senator Henry Jackson Graves...no, that's still not right...I've got it! Senator Henry Jackson Edward Graves III! That's it!
So, I've still not recovered from my FNBI. But, mommy and all the other cats LOVE me. Plus, I gots me some fans from all around the world. Check this out:
Vicky B is a fan of mine. Madonna is, too!
Paris Hilton LOVES me...I'm HOT! Angie thinks I'm the hotness!
Cats all over the world LOVE me. People flock to museums to see me.
My name has been in lights! I'm writed 'bout in the newspapers.
I might be dumb as dirt but...I'm loved and happy...Life. Is. Good!
Very truly yours,
Senator Henry Jackson Edward Graves III
