Hey, Jess - you've got mail!
     "Not another letter from Morris begging for more tips on how to be cute, is it?  I've already had my fill of pathetic this week."
     No, nothing like that.
     "NOT THE VISA BILL FOR THE CAT TOYS I ORDERED??"
     Ummm, Visa bill?
     "Oh.  Uh, never mind."
     What Visa bill?
     "You know how sometimes when you look at clouds you think you see faces?  Well, feline burps are like that.  You can hear the darnedest things in 'em, but really, it's just all in your imagination."
     Hmm.  Well, it's not a Visa bill.  It's a postcard.
     "Really??  I got a postcard???"
     Yep.  Remember how I posted your address here back on October 2?  Well, looks like someone decided to use it to brighten up your life a little.
     "Oooooo, baby!  Is it edible??  Clawable???  Enticingly scented with fine feline secretions?????  Let me see!  Let me see!"
     Here ya go, Big Guy:
 

     "Wow.  So: What's a Ljubljana?"
     Judging from the postmark, it's a city in Slovenia.
     "Is that like Salami, the Legendary City Where No Cat Goes Hungry??"
     Ummm, not exactly.  I think it's a former Yugoslavian republic.
     "And do they know how to write in former Yugoslavian republics or did the corrupt rulers confiscate all those skills and send 'em to secret Swiss bank accounts?"
     Ummmmmmmmm... yeah, looks like they do still know how to form a few choice words.  
     "Well...?  Are you going to read them to me or do I have to wait until the local Literacy Council finally finds a tutor for me who's willing to work in exchange for a few good mice?"
     Sure.  I'll read it to you.  Ummm - ahem...  Here goes:
 

     "Quit fucking with my mind, dude.  Read what it REALLY says.  And this time, lose the phony accent.  Vaudeville's dead for a reason."
     That's what it really says, Jess.
     "But I'm a lover - not a fighter!"
     Well, maybe CMDR Velijani has a thing for cats.
     "You think that's funny?  You see me laughing here?  Huh??  And what's with that 'P.U. Box'?  What's up with that?!  Do I send postcards to the goddamn Salamian Army making fun of the way their toilets smell??  How DARE they make fun of my box!  This didn't come postage due, did it?!?!  HISSSSS!"
     Settle down!  I'm sure it was just a typo.  Judging from the newspapers I read, they're very common.
     "Yeah, well, coming from a guy who actually believes invisible termites are responsible for all those scratch marks on the legs of the kitchen table, that really means a hell of a whole lot."
     Oh?  And what's really causing those scratches?
     "I'll tell ya later.  We're dealing with MY crisis right now."
     Ha!  You don't really know what's causing those scratches either, do you?
     "Oh, I know.  And as soon as I think you can handle the news, I'll tell you.  In the meantime, I have a little bit of business to settle with CMDR Velipajamees...."
     Jess - Jess, I know that look!  I'm warning you: The commanders of Balkan armies are NOT the cuddly stuffed animals on a string they appear to be.  You try chasing one around his house and he's likely to call in an airstrike the first time you paw at his epaulets!
     "Oh, I just want to send him a little something in return.  A postcard, in fact.  It's the polite thing to do, right?  And if I don't include a return address, there's no way those foreign forensic pathologists will ever be able to trace it back to me."
     Jess - NO!  We've had this talk before.  You are never to launch that postcard into the postal system without direct authorization from the President, Michael Jackson, Governor Taft, or me!  And I'll tell you right now, I accidentally ran over my set of launch codes with the mower, so don't even ask! 
     "Allow me to post it on our website then - just as a kind of warning shot so they know exactly what kind of cat those wind-up weirdos are dealing with here."
     Won't that rather simplify the job of those forensic pathologists charged with tracking you down?
     "Hey - the site's in your name, isn't it?"
     You are sooo devious!  And still you can claim with a straight face to be a lover and not a fighter!
     "I'll take that as a compliment.  Now upload Retaliatory Postcard #1 or you'll never see your Woodstock Pez dispenser again."
     DOH!  I am living with pure feline evil!!
     "Say whatever you want, but start tapping those keys while you say it."
     Ok... All set....  Retaliatory Postcard #1 ready for uploading.  All I have to do is type in the warning notice mandated by the EPA and we're good to go.  Sure you won't change your mind?
     "Hey - did you just hear something?  I thought I just heard a tiny, scratchy Woodstock voice begging you to hurry up before someone slobbers all over his sweet innards."  
     
 

     You play a mean game of hardball, Mr. J.
     "It's either that or face the prospect of being drafted into every idiotic army on earth."
     I sleep better at night knowing you're here instead.
     "And I sleep better... the more... you... tal-  zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..........."