Dear Reader:

I’m not a doctor, but I do know a little something about globsl warming. It’s hot down there. Whatever that means.

It’s true. Talking to Floyd is a lot like watching Sarah Jessica Parker act. It sucks. It’s inexplicable how someone like Floyd (or Ms. Parker) could ever find a livelihood, let alone manage to avoid being chased out of town by a mob of fair-minded-yet-concerned citizens like us. But the world isn’t a fair place. Not even close. People like Floyd get to keep their jobs, Sarah Jessica Parker carries her face around like she just roller skated out of Pret a Manger (you know what I mean), and people like us have to take the stairs and park our rickshaws out in the street right there with the animals. I mean, right there, next to the donkeys and everything. What year is it? Who is this British chap next to me at the bar? I can’t check right now, but I think I might be wearing someone else’s underwear. Be cool. 

I may have had unprotected conversation with Floyd too. It’s getting weird here. I have to go now. Thank you for writing us. I hope I answered your question about making a buttered beans casserole. 45 minutes at 600 degrees, preferably in a convection oven.

—MC Ronald Reagan, Kris Kross Will Make You Jump! Jump!

For chrissake!  I was overjoyed when—while confusedly reading a series of intra-office communications that apparently somehow got posted directly to the site—I learned that Floyd has been eighty-sixed.  Over the years, I’ve noticed that any article on which Floyd gets a credit (of which there are WAY too many) sucks big, while I enjoy immensely much of the other content.  The man obviously doesn’t know fuckall about cats, and he seems to think that a bidet is some hybrid of a brioche and croissant.  It seems as though he’s on your staff by some court order to represent the old, white, male, football-loving demographic.  There is no place for sports bar culture at Cat Bidet magazine!  Is it not as obvious to everyone else that Cat Bidet magazine should be the antidote to all things that reek of any kind of good ol’ American, boring-as-hell Sunday afternoon, pseudo macho bullshit?!  You know what’s Macho?  Washing your hair in a oversized bidet covered in a mesh of nylon straps trapping in several angry cats getting wet and soapy, like I do every day, and like I have done since long before Cat Bidet was founded.  I am the man for whom Cat Bidet magazine was made.  I don’t mean that in a figurative sense.  God made you do it for my enjoyment and to help act as a bridge between me and society with its personals section!  And I’m telling you:  GET RID OF FUCKING FLOYD ONCE AND FOR AL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

—Chris Cornell (not THE Chris Cornell—just a guy born a few years before THE Chris Cornell with bad luck that seems to get worse all the time)

Dear Reader:

Thanks for your question, which I forwarded to Floyd.  He asked me why I would forward him a question like that.  He obviously did not understand the question.  Perhaps it is because he has the mental faculties of a half-empty briefcase of poop.  I’m just kidding, I’m sure he’s a good guy.  I’m obligated to say that. 

—MC Ronald Reagan, CBM President/Urologist

Now that Floyd is back I would like to formally apologize for that dump I took in the elevator… out of context I can see how that may have been upsetting to some people.

But I’m not apologizing for the jerk & bird on the seventh floor… that was the first time I felt truly alive and free and uninhibited… like Debbie Gibson. I felt like a young Debbie Gibson… I hope that came across? Did I in some small way remind you of Debbie?

I do feel a little awkward that Greg was present… I didn’t realize his mother was Canadian… Sorry Greg. No hard feelings? I was just using Canada as a metaphor… I’m not really anti-Canadian.  It’s not like anyone chooses to be born there.

I wouldn’t mind if people started called me Debbie. In fact, I think I would really like that.

LONG LIVE FLOYD!!!

—MC Tells the Complex Emotional Truth

IT OCCURS TO ME THAT WE PROBABLY SHOULDN’T BE POSTING INTERNAL EMAILS DIRECT TO THE SITE. 

I OPENED A TICKET W THE EXCHANGE ADMINS TO SEE WHY THIS KEEPS HAPPENING.

PS DO NOT FORWARD ANY MORE OF MY “ETHNIC” LIST JOKES UNTIL THE TICKET CLOSES OUT. COULD BE BLOW BLACK. LOL. I MEANT BACK.

PPS - DERRICK U KNOW I LUV YA BROTHA

—SIR ROBERT MOTHERFUCKER

Floyd, you incompetent bag of turds, welcome back! Your new mustache looks like adolescent crap! Good to have you back on board, fucking up our site and wasting my time! Sincerely,

—MC Ronald Reagan

Fuck you guys. I’m leaving with Floyd. We’ll start our own company: Floyd Bidets. And we’re taking our fucking Celine Dion CDs with us. How do you like that! How you gonna cope without your Celine Dion? His are you going to make it through the fucking day? You think you can fix the fax machine? You think just anybody can buy printer cartridges at Office Max? NO FUCKING WAY! Floyd has the connections! Floyd is the MAN!

You never had enough imagination to appreciate Floyd. BECAUSE FLOYD IS A FUCKING GENIUS!!!!! He put the fucking cat in cat bidet. AND YOU KNOW IT!

—MC Tells the Complex Emotional Truth

Dear staff and unpaid middle-aged interns:

I never liked Floyd. Many of you remember our annual Christmas toast, “Fuck Floyd. Floyd fucking sucks. Who the fuck is Floyd?” Well I wrote that toast at our first Christmas party, back when we were just a small startup with only four employees. Frankly, I don’t know why he kept showing up. I have ordered commemorative coffee cups with today’s date on them, with a stylized silhouette of my foot kicking Floyd’s ass. I hope you’ll all join me in the conference room at 5 PM today for a celebratory drink, and a rousing toast of: “Fuck Floyd. Floyd fucking sucks. Who the fuck is Floyd?” As a matter of fact, I still have my notes from that first Christmas toast in my desk:

—MCRR-AIN’T-PAYING-FLOYD-SHIT

On this day in history in 1982, Gilbert Gottfried and Rick Springfield first introduced a Cat Bidet prototype to an astonished delegation of Norwegian gymnasts, Amway Sales representatives, and NBA All-Stars, at a Malibu house party co-hosted hosted by Sonny Bono and Sean Penn.

The Cat Bidet was originally marketed under the name Phil Collins as a miracle cure for Hepatitis C, but quickly rebranded under the Cat Bidet moniker following a high-profile law suit levied by Steven Tyler and other members of the band Aerosmith.

—MC Tells the Complex Emotional Truth

ATTN: EDITORIAL STAFF

I’M SORRY, BUT THE SITE LOOK FUCKING TERRIBLE. 3.5 YEARS OF DEVELOPMENT, $850K + BUDGET, TOP SHELF ACCOUNT TEAM AND IT LOOKS LIKE A JOKE. I TRIED BRINGING THIS UP AT THE MEETING LAST WEEK AND EVERYONE GAVE ME THIS LOOK LIKE “DOES ANYONE KNOW THIS GUY WHY IS HE HERE” AND THEN I HAD TO GET ON THE CON CALL WITH TIPPER AND RAJESH AND WE COULDN’T FINISH UP.

FOLLOW-UPS FOR THE TEAM:

1) CATBIDET.COM SUBSCRIBERS PEAKED IN JUNE AND HAVE DIPPED SINCE THEN, DESPITE VIRTUALLY NO OTHER COMPETITIVE SITE IN THIS THINKSPACE. DELUXE MEMBERSHIPS IN THE LOW FIVE FIGURES. PREMIUM DELUXE LITERALLY = 0 (ARE WE STILL SPLITTING OUT PREMIUM/PREMIUM DELUXE? MAYBE I MISSED THAT?)

2) DIGITAL METRICS FOR THE INDUSTRY AT LARGE POINT TO INCREASED INTEREST ACROSS ALL TARGETED DEMOS (LATIN TEENS, FLOOR HOCKEY UNCLES, TWATS, ETC YOU ALREADY KNOW THESE FROM THE MCKINSEY DOC FROM 12/17/2012).

3) FLOYD, DESPITE LITERALLY THOUSANDS OF EMAIL REQUESTS WILL NOT CHANGE THE BANNER FONT AS REQUESTED. WE ALL AGREED ON SOME KIND OF SERIF AND YET HERE WE ARE, MONTHS IN AND IT’S ABSOLUTELY DESTROYING OUR PAGE HITS (SERIF FONT = RELIABLE, STABLE SOURCE FOR ANIMAL SITES NOT SOMETHING OFF-BRAND OR CREEPY/ALT). PLEASE IF YOU SEE HIM MOVE THIS UP HIS LIST IT IS LITERALLY KILLING US.

4) THE SXSW BOOTH WAS A DISASTER. WORSE THAN 9/11. BIDET WAS NON-FUNCTIONING AND CAT MODELS WERE NOT HYPO-ALLERGENIC. $60K BLOWN.

IF WE NEED TO SPIN MORE CYCLES ON DEV, FINE. BANGALORE AND ESTONIA WILL MAKE IT HAPPEN WE JUST NEED TO TELL THEM NOW, NOT IN THREE WEEKS. 3RD ROUND OF VC DRIES UP AND IT’S GOING TO BE ANGELBASTER.NET ALL OVER AGAIN.

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE DO YOUR JOB.

—Sir Robert Motherfucker