THEM CATS in “CUP O’ NOODLES” by T. McCARTHY
[Panel 1]
Me Cat (Yellow Cat): I decided to make the best out of a dire situation!
New Therapist Cat (Blue Cat): Oh?
Me Cat: I elevated my Cup o’ Noodles experience!
New Therapist Cat: I haven’t had it since my college days!
New Therapist Cat: What did you do?
[Panel 2]
Me Cat: Well... I took the ramen out of its styrofoam cup!
New Therapist Cat: Fancy-schmancy!
[Panel 3]
Me Cat: Then, I put bok choy and an egg on it!
New Therapist Cat: You know? I love the styrofoam taste too!
~fín
Here are some choice links I find very helpful learning about the mystery of this mystery food…
Japan Travel tells you all about the history…https://www.japan.travel/en/my/travelers-blog/the-story-nissin-cup-noodles/
There’s this manga story that’s very gripping—easy to read. Find it on WorldCat—not Amazon here…
https://id.oclc.org/worldcat/entity/E39QQPVp7KHD7Qc3kmvQQMr4Fg
Blog about it on Chris’s Invincible Blog, “The Unbearable Radness of Project X.”
http://the-isb.blogspot.com/2006/07/unbearable-radness-of-project-x.html?m=1
It’s free, it’s non-binary, and it’s here every Thursday. Check out my un-updated index!
Share it with someone who needs to hear "Let it all out" today.
For years, those who knew code controlled the technology. In the 80s, you needed a Woz to create something. And you needed a physical team in Silicon Valley or Seattle to make that dream come true. In the 90s during the dot.com boom, you bedded HTML/CSS/Java to build a web presence.
But then blogs normalized things. sorta. Suddenly, you didn't need a degree in computer science or a seat in Silicon Valley to put words on the internet. You just needed a voice and a connection.
Yet, the gatekeeping didn't disappear. It just moved. The 'tech bro' language shifted, but the assumption that code is reserved for a specific kind of person stayed the same.
Mobile apps in the Aughts still required someone knowing C# and don’t get us started on crypto.
Librarians Who Vibe Code (LWVC) is the antidote to that. It’s a space where librarians, archivists, and their friends reclaim the tools of the web—not as an exclusive club, but as a shared language. We don’t just use the stacks; we build the shelves. Or the GitHub repository!
If you can't afford a paid subscription, I get it—share this post with one friend who might. Word of mouth is how this grows
Contribute to the Megazine! See my submission call below this line. Let’s get seen!
THEM CATS is growing into a home for raw, honest work. I'm looking for:
· Poetry — not too long, sensory, evocative, real.
· Art— ink, watercolor, digital, collage, comic panels.
· Photography — street, still life, moody, intimate.
What I'm looking for:
· Work that feels alive.
· Written that doesn't pretend to be perfect, and not originally concocted by AI. I don’t mind AI edits, but don’t let it write for you. No AI generated art, but okay if it’s filtered or refined with AI.
In all: it must have 100% human-origination. Some AI participation is okay.
How to submit:
· DM me here with the Subject: "Visual Liquid Submission – [Section] [Your Name]"
· Attach your work (PNG, or PDF for art/photo; plain text for poetry).
· Include a short bio (2–3 sentences) and where you're based. Add your Substack handle so I can make you co-editor.
What you get:
· Your work published in Visual Liquid Magazine with full credit.
· A featured spot in the weekly newsletter.
No fee to submit. No fee to read. Just honest work, shared with people who care. And you get to cross post.
Once I get major finding, you get an honorarium.
THEM CATS is a reader-supported publication. The comic is free for everyone—because I want you to feel the vibe.
To receive the full Tuesday-night walk, the raw archive, and the weekly keeping my head above water-making a way when I can, and temporary layoffs, good times, consider becoming a paid subscriber.
Did you get I riffed on the TV comedy Good Times? 😅
I was coming back to Oakland to care for two beloved cats—not mine. I had a $20 left over from reading card at the vintage shop on Piedmont. I’m hungry. I can’t qualify for food stamps.
There’s Cup O’ Noodles. Since I’m in a bodega, it could run me $3. “How much?” I ask. The cashier smiles, “Buck fifty.”
“Coolio. I’ll get this mango chili fruit roll.”
I get the candy for my inner child. I buy the freeze dried ramen for my hungry adult, and I’m happy.
I walk along Grand. The lake is gorgeous. I’ve been fixing my website all evening. I feel like I did things.
I am happy.
I put a dollar—that I got back in change—in a cup. It’s next to a man sleeping on the sidewalk as I come out. I keep the quarter to add to my laundry kitty.
I end up not eating it since it’s late. I drink a glass of milk, take Benadryl to sleep. And in the morning the ramen awaits.
I spent $12 today. Coffee for $4. A croissant for $6. And I felt rich.
That’s not a joke. That’s the math of a life where $12 buys you a morning, a warm pastry, and fifteen minutes of pretending the rent doesn’t exist.
The text came in right after I paid. A friend suggested I walk dogs. I told her yes—because a dog’s walk pays for tomorrow’s coffee. But no buyers yet.
I haven’t done Lyft since that rider who banged on the back of the passenger headrest—repeatedly—to demonstrate how noisy her gym was. While she quickly apologized for banging it a conga drum, it was jarring.
I haven’t driven into East Oakland since then, either. The fear sits in my chest like an anvil. I am a great driver, but got stuffed. But I also remember that I used to drive into the city for casual carpooling, and I used to feel safe. Maybe I can do that. Maybe not tonight. But maybe.
I don’t know how I’m paying next month’s rent. I don’t know how I’m paying the studio. But I know that only some money is coming in. And that might be just enough to cover the floor under my feet.
So I’m sitting here, with my coffee, with my croissant, writing this down.
And I’m realizing: I am happy. Not because I have money. But because I am doing something. I am working towards a future. I am writing. I am alive in a way that feels meaningful.
That $12 bought me more than food today. It bought me permission to believe that things are coming together.
They are. Slowly. Crumb by crumb.
About the Series:
THEM CATS transforms 38 years of Tess’ therapy into visual healing. Created by Tess McCarthy (who signs as T.McCarthy), each strip features imaginary conversations between two nameless, non-binary cats: One representing the creator, “Me Cat,” and one representing the therapist, “Therapist Cat.” A new character is a blue goateed cat named “New Therapist Cat.”
What started as a strange dream in April 2020 has become a revolutionary approach to processing trauma, growth, and the endless cycle of healing through simple, accessible art.
About Tess:
Tess is an information architect by day and a part-time Jungian coach specializing in helping clients with life transitions—stemming from consulting high-performance organizations who need help sorting out the messy business by blueprinting the structural data about their sites to become more legible in search.
She’s been a practicing coach for two years, a professional astrologer for six, and a tarot reader for over two decades. She weaves the archetypal lessons of these intuitive arts at her private practice, the Red Thread Intuitive, at redthreadintuitive.com.
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