Catman, don't!

I'd like to know why I keep running into this thirty-something skeletal dweeb that parks behind my apartment building (in the very middle of the alley I use to get in and out of my place, no less), turns on his brights (I don't understand this. Hazards would be okay, but really, there's no need for either), pops his trunk open, takes out fifty-seven dollars worth of cat food and proceeds to feed all of the goddamn stray cats that sneak into my apartment building and spray their lovely smells all over the hallway. Fuck you!, I say, to this bizarre one-man humane society. Stray cats should have to kill mice and rats to survive. Does it give you any comfort in knowing the only goddamn cats that eat your food are the ones with collars and bells and names?

I don't think you're heroic, so don't look at me like you're doing the world good and I should be ashamed of myself for letting the fuckers starve. I think you're fucking with the stray cat ecosystem, and worse, you're only perpetuating a problem already out of control. Please, for the love of God, don't help them keep breeding.