The Python cat is a feline visitor who loves everything about earth, especially the elegant and omnipotent Python. I am its human friend Pea Flower cat, authorized to polish and publish its article. If you’re reading this series for the first time, I highly recommend checking out the first few posts he wrote (see link at the end), and you’ll love this mysterious philosophy + geek cat. Without further ado, let’s enjoy today’s “feast of ideas”!
This article was originally published on Python Cat. Please do not reprint it without permission.
Original address: mp.weixin.qq.com/s/e9B_jpyeS…
Hello, Meow meow readers, I am a guest from Meow Planet, registered on Earth as “Python Cat”. Today, I finally managed to spare half a day to continue chatting with everyone.
Where was we last time? It’s been more than three months, and the memory curve has gone downhill, and the cat’s words have lost their clarity.
I vaguely remember saying something about “home country under heaven”, where an alien creature echoes several spatial fields of Python with bits and pieces of knowledge, which makes you laugh.
Today is still some cat language cat language, please do not abandon. I’ve had a lot of complaints lately, and I’m in urgent need of some writing, so I’ll start now.
I’m struggling with a question: Why does she call programmers liars?
The question began when I met a black cat.
It was a Wednesday (remember), I was taking a walk by the lake in the cool evening wind, when suddenly she appeared in the grass, with pure black hair, white jade eyes and footstep like a chivalrous man.
I thought, like me, she probably wanted a friend to talk to. After all, that’s what cats do, right?
So he hummed a little song and went over to chat her up.
I asked her where she was from. She said it was on the other side of the lake.
I asked her what she was doing on this side of the lake. She said she was just checking it out.
I asked her what she saw. She said a lot of grass, a few crickets and frogs, and a wild cat.
She has such a beautiful voice when she talks. I’ve never heard such a beautiful voice.
But why do you call me a “wild cat”? I’m the one who lives nearby, and she’s from the other side of the lake.
I wanted to say she was the wildcat, but I repented as I got out of my mouth, and fearing offence, tactfully altered my tone, and finally said, “Are you a night-cat? “
She said, “Aren’t all cats late sleepers?”
I said I wasn’t. Since being integrated into human society, I have learned a new lifestyle and now prefer to be active during the day.
She gave me a cute little look of contempt and said just look at my eyes — dim like those bubbles in the lake.
The subtext is that I’m not animalistic, that I’m not who I am?
I hurriedly explained that my eyes were “the bluest blue on the bluest sea on the bluest day,” “brighter than the brightest gem in a Himalayan mine,” “no cat on the planet has the same temperament and substance”…
He bragged, talked more and more shameless, and finally got a little short of words.
She showed half smile, silent, graceful geography clever tail hair, a look of the world has not moved.
I fluttered, but I was still unconvinced.
“My name is Python Cat. What’s a girl’s name?” Let’s see where she came from.
“Python? !”
She suddenly looked me straight in the face, hesitated, and made a wary move.
I was stunned, and then I knew. Well, I’m sure you’re not impressed by my beauty and my eloquence, but there’s still something you don’t know (Python is, after all, made by the best programmers in the human race), and you’re still afraid of it.
I thought at that time, she probably knew Python means Python, so she would instinctively take precautions, really a quick hunter cat, if there was a fight, I might not be her opponent, not to provoke her, if the claws accidentally scratch, definitely lost…
But maybe it would be all right to try to frighten her. What was she like when she was no longer beautiful?
I was licking my tongue with a bad idea, and was about to make the appearance of a boa constrictor.
“You mean Python, Python?”
“Yeah, scared?” I took advantage of the situation to create a python vomit letter “hiss ~ hiss ~” sound (dance a claw, but it seems wrong, on the down).
“Are you a believer?” She was more alert.
Believers? No, I’m an atheist. I don’t believe in gods or ghosts, sun or moon, dragon or snake. I’m not a believer of anybody.
However, this is hard to explain, it is very rare to attract attention, of course, to stay for a while.
So I looked at her disapprovingly and gave her a polite silence.
“I know it. When I was young, I found a goatskin book in my grandmother’s treasure chest, which recorded many ancient stories, including this monster.”
The treasure chest and the goatskin? This monster? What did the little black cat see?
“Oh,” I said casually, “have you really read his story?”
“Python is the Python of Gaia, the Mother of the earth, born among the corpses of the ancient jungles, the messenger of darkness, the embodiment of decay, the monster of human chaos.”
“It was born of mother Earth, but it was ugly. It had no arms or legs and was not even as powerful as its brothers and sisters, the Twelve Titans. So it had a bad heart and went about making trouble and killing people.”
“What is such a god of destruction, but a monster?”
Meow, meow, meow, meow! It’s not the Python I know, and it’s not the Python I thought I knew!
It sounds like a fairy tale to frighten children.
“Meow, it’s him.” I pretended to agree.
“A goddess in black was pregnant with a child by Zeus, the king of the gods. Hera, Zeus’ wife, exploded with jealousy and sent the python to kill the goddess.”
“The goddess finally escaped to a desert island in the sea. It took nine days and nine nights to give birth to Artemis, the moon goddess, and Apollo, the sun god. The monster nearly killed the Moon goddess.”
There was a soft light in her eyes and a slight quiver in her whiskers as she said this.
I finally heard the familiar name, it turned out that she was talking about ancient Greek mythology.
I admit I’m ignorant (only of things I haven’t heard of yet), but I’ve heard of ancient Greek mythology, a bunch of internecine, feigned gods.
I just didn’t know there was such a thing as the Python monster.
“And then?” Fairy tales are good, too. I continue to test her.
“Later, when Apollo grew up, he went to avenge the python. After a big battle, he shot it with a bow and arrow.”
“Then her eyes became sharp again in a flash, and she looked at me like a monster coming back from the dead.
I was a little intimidated by her stare (it could kill a cat), knew I couldn’t pretend anymore, and didn’t want to have anything to do with the mythical monster.
So I explained to her the modern meaning of Python, which is a human programming language, the instructions that tell a computer what to do.
And then, Python can do this, Python can do that, all at once. I’m not sure how much she understood.
“Are you a programmer?” “She asked suddenly.
“No, but I know a lot of programmers, and I…”
At this time, a gust of cold wind blowing, grass noisy crickets and frogs are suddenly closed mouth.
She flicked her ears and straightened her back.
“If it’s not programmers, grandma says programmers are liars,” she said, turning around, running, and sprinting into the grass.
Her dark figure swished through the grass like an invisible wind, as if she had never been there before.
But the night wind clearly delivered her last words (still pleasant and pleasant) – Grandma called me home, goodbye Python cat ~~~
I tried to catch up with her, but a chill oppressed me.
‘Well, you haven’t told me your name yet?
“I shouted.
There was no echo of her.
Only the wind and the grass, the lake, the night, I lost my mind.
I spent many nights by the lake looking for her, but I couldn’t find her.
Not on this side of the lake, not on the other side, not east of the lake, not west of the lake.
Not the first day, not the next, not many days.
I want to find her, ask her name, and ask her why programmers are liars.
I wanted to talk to her, tell her where I came from, what I wanted to do, so much…
Meow, meow, we’ve been talking for so long. Just in time, the sun is setting, so I won’t gossip with you.
Pack up, dress up, it’s time to go for a walk. So, I’ll see you soon
(To be continued…)
Python cat:
With Python, I can name all the cats
The identity myth of Python objects: from all citizens to everything counts
Spatial boundaries for Python objects: insularity and open inclusion
Python and the world
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