Fart Evader: 'Emmuttmax, I am your father'

Disoriented by the surprise visit of a mysterious warrior emissary from the great nebula in Lemur, the Texas furball, (e.g., viz. EMMUTTMAX, op. cit., ibid.) has started to suffer from pre-consequential long-and-short term memory loss to add to the woes of his existing chronic maladies, including malodorous malfeasance.
The diplomat, Fart Evader [PICTURE, RIGHT], from the shadowy lemur alien race, startled our mangy simian stumbler by suddenly announcing, "Emmuttmax, I am your father." The only response the befuddled Emmuttmax could muster was to totter off to his keyboard and type out an incoherent farrago against the noble Thanes of Thomond.
This sudden burst of coordinated activity between the lemur and raptor camps is causing grave international concern.
This is tied to their joint efforts to deny the existence of the Lemur Capitulation Treaty, which ended the Celtic-Lemur war last year. Equally ominous is the fact that the media are now calling it the "first" war in the clear expectation that a second may be on the way.
Seeking to deny the routine and peaceful journey of the Thane's cat envoy Moody Blue to Texas to collect the annual kibble tribute mandated by the treaty, the lemur and RAPTOR blatantly suggested the picture in the press release was a fictitious "Bill the Cat" owned by the lemur.
This sudden purported affection of the decrepit lemur for a cat is extraordinary, given his anti-feline record, as in his comment to the lemur-owned Fetid Times magazine last year:

Quote: "I have a long history of deriding and heaping scorn on cats. I've always believed they are more in league with the devil than any rat-sized puppy could ever be."

Two weeks later the same pee-stained rag carried a gruesome photograph with the following caption:

Quote: "In a startling display of contempt for the Irish thanes of Thomond and their feline allies, President Bush dined on a live kitten in the White House Rose Garden this morning. Prior to his meal, the president stated, 'Those thanes are nothing but uppity evildoers, and any [cat] who stands with them against peace-loving lemurs is an uppity evildoer too.'"

And now, we are to believe some fictional "Bill the Cat" is a beloved king of the crumbling dry-rot castle in Swamp Lemur? We think not. Next thing you know, we will be asked to believe that the lemur-avian-rabbit alliance is peace-loving country club for afternoon tea sharing. Or that Fart Evader is not Emmuttmax's father.
Furthermore, in his most recent rant, the lying lemur states that this distinguished journal, Chronicles of the Celtic-Lemur Galactic War is, quote, "replete with similar lies, distortions, and obvious signs of senility on the part of the Celtic codgers." Yet a few short months ago Emmuttmax himself wrote:

Quote: "[The chronicle] is a surprisingly balanced report of the ongoing hostilities between the evil Thanes of Thomond and the Lemur alliance. The heretofore thane scribe and chief saber rattler, Thamus, has uncovered an accurate chronicle of each side's thrusts and parries in the conflict."

So where, pray, lies the true sign of senility? Or should that be cunning dissimulation?
What is that loud clanging noise, you ask? Rest assured, it is only the sound of fine steel being honed afresh in Castle Thomond. We are more than ready for the evildoers' new aggression being plotted against mankind (and catkind, and dolphinkind, and ... Oh, fill in your own kind.)