I’d like to take some time right here to appreciate the stoner logic of that 20-year-old in Nebraska who shoved his got-damn cat into a homemade bong and smoked out.

Don’t get me wrong. I sure as shit don’t endorse sticking a cat into your bong next time you wake-and-bake.

But if there’s one way to chill a cat out, it’s sticking a cat into your bong next time you wake-and-bake.

So this 20 year old kid is living with his got-damn grandfather, which ain’t no damn surprise since any motherfucker who gets high enough to insert a kitten into a bong clearly ain’t the type of person capable of owning his own got-damn home. I mean, there ain't a lot of information about that 20 year old--let’s call the motherfucker Spaz--there ain't a lot of info about Spaz in the AP article, but you can sure glean the fuck out of the fact that the motherfucker ain’t too got-damn bright. Of course Spaz is living with a relative. That’s what stoners do. Coke-heads live with supermodels, crack-heads live with their own got-damn feces, heroin addicts live with what they did the night before, and stoners live with relatives.

But Spaz had the misfortune of also living with a high-strung six month old cat named Shadow. Shadow, apparently, was harshing Spaz’s well-honed buzz. What do you motherfuckers do when your cat’s freaking out? If you’re a 20 year old stoner living with your got-damn grandfather, you put that nervous-ass kitty into your bong and smoke that bastard out, of course. Fuck cat-nip. Fuck a serious-ass petting-down. You want to chill that pussy out, you got to toke that pussy up.

Here’s a picture of the bong.

Look at that got-damn bong. That is some serious got-damn bongage. I'd bet my mother's ass that bong is the result of having too much free motherfucking time, too much got-damn weed, and no access to a decent got-damn smoke shop where-in one might buy a real got-damn bong that don’t resemble a fucked-up cross between an enema machine and a third-grader’s diorama. I also assume the homemade bong is the result of living in Ne-fucking-braska.

There’s a lot of shit you can put in your got-damn bong. Hell, here’s a whole got-damn website dedicated to flavoring your toke so that it tastes like a got-damn Fruit Roll-up. But sucking in a cat, even a bat-shit insane six month old kitten named Shadow that you probably got one night when your girlfriend threw it at you, ain’t something I’d advise.

Spaz. Man. Keep smoking the weed because it helps keep you infertile. But for the love of Christ, don’t shove no more kitties into your got-damn bong. Cat’s don’t like being shoved no where.

Hamsters are another got-damn story.