Bruce Lee is not a cat, but if he were -- and if he weren't dead and if he lived next door -- he'd likely offer this advice to our kitten, who is learning to hunt phantom prey in our backyard:
"You make too much noise! And all that anticipatory wiggling before you pounce only wastes energy while telegraphing your attack. The less effort, the faster and more powerful you will be."
"Relax, little kitten. Your blows should be an extension of your chi. Let them explode from deep inside like suprise lightening on a hot, cloudless day; let them rain like one-inch ball bearings plummeting from some Lagrangian orbit; let them destroy flesh, bone and spirit."
"Calm your breathing, and don't do that twitching thing with your mouth when you think you see something moving in the grass."
"Let your opponent graze your skin, and you smash into his flesh, kitty. Let him smash into your flesh, and you fracture his bones. Let him fracture your bones, and you take his life. Then relax in both your glory and pain as you eat your opponent."
"Try the one-inch punch. It's deadly."
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