Intoxicated Kitties and the Dangers of Sho-Biz

Hello everyone.

I know you are all anticipating the debut video from Z-Funk and the C-SHARPherds, the greatest musical sensation since The Spice Girls or even Power Station with Robert Palmer. The video is in production, but far more important issues have arisen. I think we all at times have an attitude of "it will never happen to me," but I have quickly learned how life in the music business can lead to some unspeakable horrors.

As you know, Tucker and I have launched our slick new musical duo. Although we are both quite attractive canines, the sharpherd and I felt we needed someone to broaden our audience and add even more sex appeal to our act. After auditioning a number of different animals, including Clyde the yellow lab who lives next door and Myrtle the guinea pig, a talented rodent from Tatamy, we decided to stay in house, hiring Matilda the feline as a back-up vocalist, dancer, and stage technician. Things were going quite well, and the feline, who put her culinary career on hold, was really jiving with the two of us. Then, as quickly as a stain can appear from under me on a white carpet, disaster struck!!!

I was casually strolling by the bathroom the other day when I saw it happen, and I still can't believe my eyes. There was the feline, shamelessly lapping up the most addictive drug known in the world of house pets - toilet water spiked with bleach. I stood there with my mouth agape and eyes googling in disbelief. It appeared that just like Lindsey Lohan or Todd Bridges of "Different Strokes" fame, success had overtaken the feline, and she obviously formed a horrible dependence on this strange elixir. I could not tell if the toilet was flushed before she decided to indulge, but either way she was definitely entering the point of no return.

My mind was racing. I didn't know what to do. The sharpherd was outside barking at the stupid mailman, so he was unable to give me any guidance; although his way of dealing with things is to run around the house like a cross-eyed, Starbucks drinking emu with an itch on its ass, so that would not have helped. The only thing I could think to do was to take a picture of the foul act and keep it so that I can either get her the help she needs, fire the feline from the group without having to honor her contract, or use it to extort her for everything she is worth by threatening to sell it to the National Inquirer(I'm leaning toward the third option).

Whatever the case, I blame either that dope Michael Phelps, Alex Rodriguez or Dick Cheyney for this horrible incident; they are such horrible role models. Or maybe it is once again the man, trying to thwart my musical aspirations as he did my culinary career and relationship with the tree (God rest its soul). I hate the man.

All I know is that if Z-Funk and the C-SHARPherds only become a one-hit-wonder, I will be promptly on the phone with VH-1's "Behind the Music" to expose the man's treachery and heinous career-ending intentions to the entire world...and you thought the Milli Vanilli story was messed up!!!

I will keep you updated.
Video hopefully coming soon...

Z-Funk