I’m normally a pretty plot-driven fellow, but I’m really loving this absolutely [seemingly] pointless Chef Meowrice Extravaganza. I’m thrilled that the parade of pussy stars (Not dirty! Hah!) has moved out of the country (still not dirty!) music genre. I wouldn’t even mind if Cat King Cole’s daughter comes on to perform the Mice-a-roni jingle with her (apparently undead and very well-preserved) feline father.
[Ed: I was thinking about calling him either "vast" or "extraterrestrial"--see, he's "spacial"--but the gag just doesn't work as well without the death aspect.]
I’m intrigued that Chef Meowrice calls Mice-a-roni a “culinary creation.” I don’t think that the human analog has ever made that claim. It’s somewhat surprising that Mice-a-roni isn’t described as “the San Francatnip treat,” though.
Anyhow, I’m excited to see who is up next. True, all of this stunt casting means there’s some danger of Gasoline Alley becoming Will and Grace. But on the other hand, introducing a couple gay characters (or better, having a couple come out) would make the heads of other characters explode. And exploding heads are good heads.
Still not dirty. Ha!
