Over the past few weeks, my father, Dan Bilzerian, has sauntered his way into the national spotlight by throwing a porn star into a pool and breaking her paw, er, foot, in the process. He has been described as a playboy, an "Instagram millionaire," and a poker champ, but these descriptors fail to capture his proudest achievement — me. Dan is, most importantly, my father. Who am I? Smushball, his Persian cat, and the light of his life.
While the women in his Instagram photos change on a daily basis, I have been a mainstay on his feed and in his life since I was first brought into his world four months ago. And I want you all to know that regardless of Dan's faults, he is an impeccable kitty daddy.
While most cats seem to think of themselves as princesses, I can assure you that no feline royalty can compare to the extravagance of my lazy existence. I am showered with love, tiny kitten shirts, and women's breasts on a daily basis. And as grateful as I am to Dan for my blessed life, I do have a slight complaint that I would like to take this opportunity to address.
Just because I am cute does not mean that I do not have feelings or a brain. And it certainly does not mean that Dan can speak for me by way of Instagram captions. For the past four months, Dan has told the story of my life through hashtags, and I do not feel that he has done me justice. For the record, I am a proud supporter of Hillary Clinton for 2016, a brave soul, and a complicated cat. So here I am to give you a bit of background on all my photos, and introduce you to the kitten behind the Instagram.
Let us start at the beginning.
This was my first day with Daddy Dan. He was clearly happier than I was at the time of the photograph. This was likely because I had never seen such a giant, bearded, human-man in my life. How would you like to be placed on top of a mountain of flesh and be told to pose?
But I soon warmed up to Dan. After all, look how happy he looks to have me!
Dan conveniently neglected to mention why I looked so surprised. It was the first time I saw his gun collection. It was scary. See for yourself.
Soon thereafter, I fell asleep after an exhausting 10 minutes chasing one of Dan's poker chips around the house. He took this opportunity to take a lot of creepy pictures of me sleeping. For the record, if humans don't like having their pictures taken while napping, what makes you think cats enjoy it?
I was quickly made aware that I was not the only woman in Dan's life, and was introduced to the hoards of women who parade in and out of the house and boats on a daily basis. This is my disapproving glare for Dan's penchant for objectifying women. I do not appreciate his hypersexualization of my human counterparts. But then again, he gave me a $500 shirt as a blanket, so who am I to complain? I'm just a cat.
A little while later, I underwent a very scary surgery that left me with only three legs. But not to fear, I am just as much of a fireball as I was before. Of course, while having only three legs will not slow me down, having to wade through this absurdly thick carpet was a struggle. Seriously, Dan, what is this? Why is there only one strip of it? And what kind of bugs are hiding in these fibers for me to chase?
Ok you caught me, there's no story behind this next photo. I just wanted you to see how cute I am.
As I grew older and wiser, I developed more concrete opinions on the world, and became an angsty preteen cat, as all cats are wont to do. About three months ago, I awoke with an epiphany: my life will forever be inundated by large breasts and large guns. It was an unhappy realization.
See what I mean? Large guns.
Following this realization, I decided to do what most preteens do when they have a major identity crisis: I got a new haircut. To compensate for my small size and generally unimposing features, I decided to make myself look as much like my favorite cousin as I could — I left "Smushball" behind for "Simbaball." Dan agreed to shave me to look like a little lion.
Don't I look more intimidating already?
And for awhile, things were going really well. Daddy was still enjoying life, but that's his business, and no one was getting hurt. But then, last month, he hurled Janice Griffith off a roof and into a pool. And while I'm not one to judge, I can't always control my facial expressions. First came surprise.
Then came exasperation.
Then I just wanted to shut the world out.
And I was pretty successful until daddy's lawyer sent that awful letter to poor Janice. Then I made this face on her behalf.
But at the end of the day, I still love Dan. He's been wonderful to me, and has certainly never thrown me into a pool. Life for me is just a bunch of pillows and blankets, and I intend to keep it that way.
Photos via Smushball/Instagram