PING: Flippy and Dave Stevenson

I found the address for the slave of my beloved Chloe in the fat wench's
email folders, but couldn't find Dave Stevenson's address. The fat
wench apologized, but she's still going to pay for this lack of
insight. However, I only want to say this once, so you're both going to
hear it in public.

Where are MY STORIES? Where are the trip logs for the mouser, or my
declaration of catidancy for gov'nership of the Golden State? I am not
a second class citizencat here. I have brought my ship and mates to
Dave's country and we're on the way to Flippy's country. We've made
stops along the way, braved hazards, fought fish and hoomins, played in
the riggin, scouted new territory for our fellow felines, and made
feline dreams all over the wurld come true. SO WHERE ARE THEY?

Do you know how hard it is to get the fat wench to sit down and type for
me? I have to work on her for days sometimes to get her to perform her
proper services on my behalf. I'm still working on her to get the trip
log for the coast of Afrika on the net. Do you reward my efforts?
NOOOOO!!! Do you make sure that Cats all over the wurld can read about
my work on their behalf and maybe even join in these efforts?
NOOOOO!!! Do you want me to raise such a fuss that the Mothership
orders all of our felines to go on strike? NOOOOOO!!! SO. Get off
your furry duffs and get my work on your pages, or I will have to appeal
to cats everywhere to insist to their slaves that they demand the
inclusion of my adventures in your august bodies of work.

Cap'n Pine Cone esq. PEEVED