There’s something you should know about me. In many circles, I am known as the “Catpappy.” That’s because I’m the person my friends call when they need a cat sitter—I have a natural rapport with the little buggers, and I can draw out even the most aloof kitty cat and have it sprawled out in front of me, purring softly and making the tenderest of biscuits in 40 seconds flat. This is a power I was born with, and I wield it with the discipline of a Shaolin monk.
I perhaps mistakenly believed this was a nickname that would be celebrated by the public. So I had it put on my license plate by going to the California DMV’s website, filling out the requisite forms and paying the requisite fee, and requested a custom license plate emblazoned with “CATPAPI”—a compromise made due to character limits.
I believed this to be perfectly reasonable, but unfortunately, the California State Transportation Agency and Department of Motor Vehicles did not. I received the following terse response approximately six weeks after my request:
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Now, any self-respecting Catpappy wouldn’t take this sort of abuse lying down, so I wrote the CA DMV in hopes I could talk some sense into a government finding cause for obscenity where there clearly was none:
By laying my intentions bare, the state of California surely could no longer reject my plea. After sending off this letter, I began to wait patiently for my newly minted “CATPAPI” tags to arrive.
Sadly, it was not to be, as I received another correspondence from the evil headquarters of the California DMV:
I was bowled over by their obstinate rejection of reason and sanity. What’s more, to have an official California government department state clearly that the word “cat” means “vagina” establishes an abhorrent precedent. Not to mention blatant hypocrisy, which I stumbled upon the very next day:
This fight is long from over. I will take it to the highest court of law, or to the lowest depths of good taste. You can’t keep a good pappy down.
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