Brad Pitt, Ajax, & Mitzy

I'd come to the basement to print some pics of Jess and me at St. Lucia, the site of our honeymoon: two years chronologically, seemingly many socially. I was not about to listen to Mike & the Mad Dog blather at 1030 pm. Instead I found an impending duel twixt two apparent Greek men.
One man was called "prince of Troy" by the other, who'd now revealed himself to be Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt's hot (that IS the appropriate social response, no?). Since I had no previous knowledge or witness of this movie, I assumed it to be Troy.
The men fought with staffs and large shields, and both had removed their helmets in a show of manhood. From the top of a large castle wall, Orlando Bloom winced far too many times for someone who lived in this historical period; were battles like this so rare or spontaneous or unexpected? Other than the over exaggeration of their knife's slashes by the special effects crew, the battle was enjoyable and an unseen perspective of this period's happenings. (Spoiler alert.) When Pitt finally swirled his body and severed staff into the left shoulder of Troy's prince, the onlookers shook in disbelief, and watched as Pitt hogtied the fallen prince and dragged him away behind his horse-driven carriage. It was one of the more definitive and baddass(?) battle victories I can remember (yeah, even better than Daniel San's bodybagging of Johnnie).

(...)

It was then a noise from upstairs broke my concentration and reminded me that I was alone in my parents house (which, after 29 years, still makes my mind broadcast "victim" stories like the evening news). All I found was Ajax, my faithful cat of 19 years.

A card in my parents laundry room said: "Dogs come when they are called. Cats take a message and get back to you." Not Ajax. With Ajax, you always know what you're getting into. A lap at the dinner table is not a show of affection; it's a strategic maneuver. An admonishment or removal from an unfeline food source is not a lesson learned for Ajax; it is a nonmemory in his selective goldfish brain. Want a cat to hold, or pet, or squeeze, or kiss, or cry to, or model after? That's Ajax.

(...)

Mitzy? She's as predictable as the water faucets she's so enamored with.

(...)

I've grown weary. My purpose in writing tonight was to try and discuss Jessie's question to me about the Cyclone in Myanmar: "100,000? How does that happen?" I imagined our homes built of sticks and plywood and leaves and mud and stone and prayers. And I imagined our roads as riverbeds. And I thought that was a good place to start a comparison.

And then Brad Pitt took his helmet off, and those golden locks blew in the wind, and he stabbed the prince of Troy in the center of his chest and my brain waves went awry. Damn you Brad Pitt.