ADVERTISING

Meet ‘Benjamin Bradshaw B.,’ The Un-Marketeer

While most industrialized countries have been environmentally-focused for years, Americans have just jumped on the "green" initiative (or should I say “trend”) about 18 months ago. This was when so-called hip brands like Gap introduced its new organic cotton, berry-dyed, bamboo-button accented signature polo that still fits like crap but is softer and “environmentally friendly.” (But you still get to shop in the florescent-lighted, faux-wood accented, white wall atmosphere while a fake-tanned gay man in capri pants helps you pick out synthetic nylon belts, but I digress).

The eco-friendly clothing trend is settling now, (& I extend a thank you to the retail gods), but the grocery store isn’t so lucky. Manufacturers of bleach and fruit punch alike are still emerging with new wannabe earth-conscious formulas and packaging that really shows their true color: that sickly shade of greed.

Take this soothing ad for Zephyrhills bottled water for instance. Any picklehead knows that plastic water bottles are on the top of the anti-environment list next to George W. Bush and Wal-Mart. Nothing makes me want to spend my beer money on this infamous wastemaker less than this ad that is literally trying to distract me from the polluting man behind the curtain.

Wasn’t it just yesterday that water bottlers succeeded in convincing me to even pay for water? My grandfather laughed at such new-age mumbo jumbo as he swigged free, chlorine-scented, lead-laced mystery water from the tap. Now that studies show that we’re all being unwittingly drugged, the corporate creatives are trying new tricks to convince American people into mass-consuming bottled water, clothing, et al. with whatever marketing scheme it takes. The result: chemicals are the new carbs and the environment is the new killer whale.

With this in mind, I vow to only purchase from companies that don’t try to trick me with shitty ads like showing Windex next to a babbling brook, or the Wal-Mart logo in a pastural meadow. And when I do wash harmful dish soap chemicals down my drain, I’ll own up to their environmental unfriendliness instead of shrugging & pointing to their new recyclable, enviro-bottle.

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. Drink beer from the tap. But, for god sakes, never wear Birkenstocks.

Benjamin Bradshaw B. is a fashion merchandising student who will comment periodically at CrabbyGolightly on fashion and advertising. You can reach him at Myspace.com/taterzz.com.

IN THE NEWS

This Love Story Is So…Predictable. Crabby’s Challenge: Write A Better Ending

By Elizabeth C.

WELCOME TO CRABBYGOLIGHTLY.COM’S FIRST WRITING CONTEST! All you have to do it come up with a better ending to the subterranean love story between Patrick Moberg and the "New York girl of his dreams."

You know the phenomenom called love at first sight? Well, seems Moberg, a 20-something New York web designer, spotted a rare specimen on the No. 5 subway between Brooklyn and Manhattan one day last November and decided she was his ”it girl.”

So he did the obvious thing: He created a webpage, sketched a drawing of the exotic flower he was pursuing, and then sent it into the web’s ethers. Lo and behold, within 48 hours he had located the mysterious girl, who turned out to be Australian Camille Hayton, then an intern at BlackBook magazine. (Crabby suspects for free, no doubt?) A friend had spotted Moberg’s sketch and recognized his fantasy Fraulein as Camille.

And the rest is…predictable. Hayton, flattered, said, ‘why not?’ for a little while. But two months later, she opted out of a relationship that we guess was suffocating because of its strict romantic idealism. "We dated for a while but now we’re just friends," she told Australia’s The Sunday Telegraph. "It’s really nice that people embraced the story. It is part of my life now."

No, no, no, no, no! This is not good enough. You do not go on TV, make headlines around the world, then quietly become "friends." It’s just not done!

So here’s the deal: Crabby wants creative types to come up with a better ending, send it to Crabby Golightly, who will publish the best entries. Deadline for entries: August 5th. The best storyline, as deemed by Crabby, will get a $50 Starbucks card, or in the rare event that the winner is from New York a $50 MetroCard.

TELEVISION

'Mad Men' Minutes & A Cautionary Tale For On-The-Job Boozers

By Miz J

LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE WAS THE TOMATO IN MY BLOODY MARY. Yes, even the amazing Miz J sometimes needs a little hair of the dog, especially the day after her birthday extravaganza, during which she is introduced to the magical deliciousness of Skyy Cherry Infusions.

Anyway, with all this boozy talk flowing like so much…er, booze, watch Freddy Rummy-er, Rumsen show us the consequences of drinking on the job and ruining a nice pair of slacks.

And right before the big Samsonite meeting too. Which, of course, Peggy steps into in order to save face. Personally, folks, Miss Olsen is my hero. I like her more with every passing, drunken Sunday evening.

A side story that gets in the way is Marilyn Monroe's untimely death. Most of the women in the office are upset by the news except scrappy Peggy, who contends that it’s a good thing Maidenform didn’t run that Jackie/Marilyn campaign the agency offered them a while back. Heh, is it fucked up that I totally thought the same thing?

Joan, however, takes it a little more personally, telling Roger that someday he’ll lose someone close and find out that it’s actually quite painful. Talk about foreshadowing. Or maybe it’s like TWOshadowing, because I didn’t see tonight’s ending coming AT ALL. It’s like when you’re fucking with your iPod and you walk into a tree or something. Not that I would know anything about that.

Don’s still not allowed at home, which leads him to pile on work just to pass the time, like organizing the agency blood drive. It’s funny how much free time he has now that he’s keeping his pants on. Oddly enough, Betty’s been doing the same thing, and becoming a recluse. Carla tries to get her out, and she does go riding once. While there, she invites Arthur and Sarah Beth out for a lunch, then ditches out. It’s SAD.

Meanwhile, Rumsen wakes from his drunken, piss-soaked stupor, shoes wet and squishy as he quietly leaves the office. I look at my drink, pause, wonder if perhaps my liver’s suffered enough abuse this weekend, and then take another biiiiiiig delicious gulp. I figure I’ll quit when I piss myself.

Since Don’s still living the hotel life, Jane is proving to be a wise and discreet secretary, something that you should note for later. She buys him some extra shirts, since he’s probably been rocking the same three for a while now, and probably not washing them, either. Sterling calls him into his office, where Campbell and Duck are waiting to tell him what went down with Rummy. The consensus is to fire him under the guise of a “six month leave,” even though Roger and Don really don’t want to. Drinking problem or no, Rummy’s actually got a storied history with the agency and clearly has talent. But Duck and Campbell persist, saying that this kind of episode could be repeated in front of clients and they have to nip it in the bud. In the end, Roger agrees, and he and Don take Rummy out to dinner to break the news to him…where they proceed to get completely fucking loaded.

The boozy trio ends up at an underground casino, where they run into Jimmy Barrett, who gets socked in the face by Don. Needless to say, the guys are promptly escorted out, and Roger and Don continue to drink the night away after sending Rummy off. Roger has been trying to figure out the entire time what’s going on with Don, and he plans to get the answer even if he has to blow off a desperate chick at the bar. Wow. What’s that all about? You’ll see.

Roger keeps talking to Don: “You want to be happy or you want to stay married?” Don says, “Well, you have to live your life,” words that get twisted in the next scene, where Don is confronted by Roger’s wife Mona. “He’s leaving me. For a secretary. And you told him he had to live his life. Twenty-five years of marriage.” She walks out of Don’s office, where Jane is sitting, crying, and Roger approaches to try to talk to her. Don puts two and two together, and that’s basically where it ends this time. No two-minute long montage with some indie artist’s “interpretation” of a blues song, no character contemplation, none of that artsy crap. It just ends, Soprano-style. Which makes me thirsty for some good wine. Excuse me.

Miz J, who works in advertising, has tons of opinions and a big mouth to broadcast them across the globe; however, the Internet saves her the trouble of yelling. Check out her blog at Miz J.

IN THE NEWS

Finding Meaning Before The Darkness

By Elizabeth C.

ANTHROPOLOGISTS AND SOCIO-BIOLOGISTS CONTEND THAT HUMANS ARE HARD-WIRED TO SEARCH FOR GOD or its nonsectarian equivalent, the meaning of life.

Examples abound about our constant craving: everything from the "Obama Phenomenon," to the Oprah swoon to a plumber seeing the Virgin Mary in a rusty sink and Princess Diana conspiracy theories all point to our relentless search for meaning. To believe in nothingness seems against our nature.

Dr. Randy Pausch has joined our panthenon of purpose. The Carnegie Mellon computer science professor whose last lecture became an Internet sensation and bestselling book cowritten by Wall Street Journal reporter Jeffrey Zaslow, has died of pancreatic cancer at age 47.

Professor Pausch delivered his last lecture on "childhood dreams" last September, about a month after he received his terminal diagnosis. He filled the 76-minute talk with stories about his apparent idyllic childhood, his childhood to-do list, and his life’s work. Among the lessons he imparted were these quotes:

"Loyalty is a two-way street."

"When you’re screwing up and nobody’s saying anything to you anymore, that means they gave up…When you see yourself doing something badly and nobody’s bothering to tell you anymore, that’s a very bad place to be. Your critics are the ones telling you they still love you and care."

"Apologize when you screw up and focus on other people, not just yourself.”

“Remember brick walls let us show our dedication. There are there to separate us from the people who don’t really want to achieve their childhood dreams. Don’t bail; the best gold is at the bottom of the barrels of crap.

"When you do the right thing, good stuff has a way of happening. Get a feedback loop and listen to it. Your feedback loop can be this dorky spreadsheet thing I did. Or it can be just one great man who tells you what you need to hear. The hard part is the listening to it. Anybody can get chewed out; it’s the rare person who says, “Oh my God, you’re right."

"Don’t complain; just worker harder….Be good at something. It makes you valuable. Work hard. Find the best in everybody. Be prepared. Luck is truly where preparation meets opportunity."

"You can’t get there alone – People have to help you, and I do believe in karma. I believe in paybacks. You get people to help you by telling the truth, being earnest. I’ll take an earnest person over a hip person every day because hip is short term. Earnest is long term."

Listening to the lecture might cause you to think that the euphoric-seeming Pausch really was in denial, despite his direct rejection of this charge. "I don’t know how not to have fun. I’m dying and I’m having fun. And I’m going to keep having fun every day that I have left."

And there are times that you hate yourself for noticing the contradictions in his words. For instance, some of the most successful people I know are the biggest liars. Loyalty, especially in business, seems a particularly dead concept, and would be banished as a ridiculous assumption by employees by the current Supreme Court. And if living a good life earns you good karma, dammit, then why the hell is this Dr. Zest dying of cancer?

It is only in the lecture’s last words that you can forgive Dr. Pausch for repeating platitudes. It is then that he reveals his intended audience.

"Did you figure out the head fake?,” he asks. The talk’s "not about how to achieve your dreams. It’s about how to lead your life. If you lead your life the right way, the karma will take care of itself. The dreams will come to you. And have you figured out the second head fake? The talk’s not for you; it’s for my kids.”

He was leaving a legacy for his kids. In the end, his three children and wife are what mattered most. And I can understand wanting your children to believe in every possibility. I can find meaning in that.

Vodka and VH2, And Mad Men and Mom: A Few Of My Favorite Things

By Miz J

I'VE HAD A CHANCE to do some reflecting in between Mad Men DVR marathons and boozing, and I’d like to share with you, dear readers, what I’m most thankful for this year.

First off, I'd like to thank my mother for creating the bundle of awesomeness you all know as Miz J. Thanks, Mom. Your constant calls to my work line and forwarded God emails have not gone unnoticed, just unanswered and unopened. (Hey, I’m busy at work. I talk to her A LOT when I’m at home, people. A LOT).

Read the full story here.

Miz J, who works in advertising, has tons of opinions and a big mouth to broadcast them across the globe; however, the Internet saves her the trouble of yelling. Check out her blog at Miz J.

TELEVISION

'Mad Men' Finale: Making Penance, And Predictions For Season Three

By Miz J

WHOA. WHOA. WHOA.

Action. Drama. Suspense. FINALLY.

After two seasons of Don running roughshod over his marriage vows (and earning the well-deserved slut title to boot), Betty gets angry when she learns she's pregnant. And all this time, we thought it'd be Joan, who ended up getting raped at work instead. I'm not going to stop bringing that up — I need some closure there, and now I know I won't get it until next frickin season!

Anyway, being knocked up makes Betty peeved enough to go out and have a fling with a random guy at a bar. What's the deal with Betty? She's become deliciously evil this season — from setting up her married riding partners to cheating on Don — and I want to see more of it. Payback is coming for Don, whose tripping visit to Los Angeles has helped him find his true "Dickness," and now actually shows some remorse. But could 'Mad Men' even survive with a morally striving "Don?" Doubt it.

And thanks to the no-commercial-interruption thing, I had NO TIME to get a drink, lest I miss something important, like, oh, I don't know — PEGGY TELLING PETE ABOUT THAT BABY OF HIS. The baby that's barely been mentioned all season, even though it'ss like two years old and during the first season, Peggy's weight gain and subsequent absence from work made her condition totally obvious, even to a Drunk-O-Saurus Rex like me. Waiting for this moment was like having an itch in the middle of your back for EIGHTEEN MONTHS and finally getting someone to give you a little scratch, but not enough to full-on fix it. Damn you, Mad Men! I want answers (and one of those backscratcher things like my grandma has).

So, since we won't be getting any answers until next summer sometime and everyone's going to rehash this episode looking for insights into next season, I went ahead, stirred up a tall, refreshing screwdriver, and made a few predictions to tide us all over.

1. Don takes McCann up on their job offer from the first season. Despite their harsh treatment of Betty, Don decides to cash in at SC and then take himself over to McCann and shut SC down. Or, better yet, take their entire creative workforce with him to the other side of the illustrious Madison Ave.

2. Joan will try to recapture her temporary position in the TV department to her husband's dismay. He's the controlling type, so I bet that this splits them up (or at least I hope — Ms. Holloway should not meet a tragic ending such as marriage to a date rapey type. Not her style.)

3. Betty, just to stir shit up, will tell Don about the affair. Or, better yet, her girlfriends from the neighborhood, who'll tell their husbands, who'll tell Don. Because news is always better when it's third-hand and mangled into total inaccuracy. Hilarity will ensue?

4. Trudy and Pete will "accidentally" adopt Peggy's son. Tell me you didn't think that when he said, "Why would you tell me that?" You did so! And so did I! Because I was sober enough to pick up the hint!

5. I will discover a much more potent blend of Long Island Iced Tea, start to review the first episode of the third season, and get it all jumbled.

6. Prediction #5 will be the only one that actually happens.

In light of that, I gotta say goodnight so I can go add vodka to the shopping list. Til next season!

Miz J, who works in advertising, has tons of opinions and a big mouth to broadcast them across the globe; however, the Internet saves her the trouble of yelling. Check out her blog at Miz J.

BRANGELINA

Report: St. Angelina’s New Babes Delivered By Divine Medical Intervention

By Elizabeth C. AND SO NOW WE KNOW, OR THINK WE KNOW, OR MIGHT KNOW, OR — OH, WHO CARES? — SOMEONE IS SAYING OFF-THE-RECORD THAT new celebrity angels Vivienne Marcheline and Knox Leon Jolie-Pitt are the miraculous result of an Immaculate Conception.

According to that celeb bible US Weekly, the Brang brand was in such a hurry to propogate their genes that they skipped the old fashion method, (but we presume pretended a lot?), and instead went for the twofer plan at the invitro clinic, which wags call an expensive procedure. Surely they’re jesting? Expensive to lowly scribes, perhaps, but to Brad and Ang, the estimated $12,000 amounts to a carelessly-left tip.

Says the alleged "well-placed source," Angelina "chose the procedure so she wouldn’t have to deal with the stress of trying to get pregnant. She could just knock it out."

Viv and Knox were born July 12 in a hospital in Nice, France shortly after 6 p.m. The Jewish obstetrician delivered word to his people through the JTA, the Global News Service of the Jewish People, that Angelina was "so, so nice and never complained about anything. There are negative things sometimes written about her on the Internet, but don’t believe them.” (To which Crabby wonders: Who’d be mean to the doctor seeing your crowning waxed lips up close?)

Although the shortcut to twins sounds creepy, who could blame Ang? With her soon approaching her woman’s sexual peak, she might have another seven years of youthful beauty left before she’s reduced to vetting offers for movies like "Momma Mia!" . (And that is not an insult; Crabby adores Meryl Streep, who as far as she can remember never once shuffled her children in front of paparazzi to sell a movie.)

Why bother, if you’re a celebrity, worrying about procreation cutting into potentially profitable years? Who wants to carry the extra weight around? By conceiving in a petri dish, Ang saves herself a full year of profits, which are estimated by Forbes to about $14 million annually. Well worth the investment of a $12,000 lab procedure, don’t cha think?

And since we brought up paps, daddy Pitt is threatening to sue anyone who publishes photos of his children snapped frolicking at his rented French estate with a long-eyed lens. Brad must be seething that anyone but he and Ang could make money off photos of their children. Oh, how self-centered these celebrities are! They want their cake and to eat it too. And they can!

TELEVISION

It Must Be Monday! 'Mad Men' Minutes on 'The New Girl'

By Miz J

Wow. Uh, I take back everything I said last week about being bored. Except for the funny stuff.

We find out a shit ton of information this week – and it’s about time. Naturally, the show starts off with a slow simmer, but quickly turns to a boil in order to wrap up old business and head on to the new stuff. So hold on to your hats, folks, this is going to be a short but bumpy ride.

First off, the Good Doctor (that’s what I’m calling this guy until I get a name) has proposed to Joan, prompting her to fill her own shoes in order to prepare for her wedding and all that. Guess she wasn’t bluffing to Roger about knowing the day he’d ask and stuff – clearly, Joan understands The Game and how to play. Enter Jane, the hot new secretary all the guys can’t get enough of – i.e., the new Joan. Not much happens with Jane in this episode, aside from the viewers learning right off the bat that she can issue a put-down with Joan-like acidity: “If you need help finding a dead file, please let me know; otherwise, pitch your tents elsewhere.” HOLY SHIT. I want to see her and Peggy get into a curt-ness fight, for real. It would be snip-tastic and totally bitchy, and I would burn up my notebook trying to write it all down for future reference.

So, away from the snit-fest, another interesting development is taking place – the fact that Pete and Trudy still can’t seem to get pregnant. I actually feel a bit sorry for Trudy, knowing what I do about Peggy and all, since it’s clear from that little piece of info that it’s Trudy – not Pete – that's unable to procreate. Trudy tries everything to get Pete to knock her up before finally seeing a doctor; at one point, right after placing a ton of nudie mags in the bathroom for Pete, I am totally sure that she’s going to cross paths with her hubby with a shrunken head in her hands or something. But we all know the inevitable answer, and by the end of the episode, so does a very disappointed Trudy, who looks around her lovely apartment and asks Pete, “If we can’t have a baby, then what is all this for?” Le sigh. Don’t depress me while I’m drinking, Trudy. Booze is a downer, and you’ve got me guzzling.

All of this, however, is small potatoes when compared to the shit Dashing Don’s landed his chiseled jaw in this week. Bobbie is still pursuing him, under the guise of wanting to celebrate the start of Jimmy’s new show. Seems the Utzes let that jackass bend the terms of his contract to do it, which, hey, good for you, ya douchebag. So Don goes to the restaurant for drinks with Bobbie and runs into RACHEL MENKEN, who is married, which makes me sad, because she’s way more interesting than Bobbie can ever be. She walks away from Don and only allows herself the briefest of glances, which must set Don off, because Don tries to lure Bobbie up to her beachfront property to…well, you know. And if you don’t, then this is not the show for you.

Anyway, I said “tries” because they never make it up there. Fact is, they’ve been “celebrating” a bit too much. More so than I’ve been using quotation marks. Bobbie sticks her head out the window like a true bitch and says “I feel so good,” to which Don responds, “I don’t feel a thing.” Bobbi then leans into Don and he gets distracted and swerves off the road, and this is the point where I go, “Heh. Feel THAT, Don?”

All this excitement earns Don no nookie and a sweet DUI charge, which he sure as hell can’t tell Betty about. He sure as hell can’t make bail, either. What a night. Guess who he calls? Peggy, who makes the bail and puts up Bobbie for a day or so until her black eye heals. Meanwhile, Don’s trying to sneak in the house, but Betty’s not having it, since she figures he’s out having all the extramarital fun while she’s stuck at home waiting. He makes up a lie about having high blood pressure, taking meds for it and then mixing them with booze and wrecking the car. Ladies, be honest: which is worse here? Cheating or LYING about cheating and WRECKING THE CAR to boot? I couldn’t decide, so I had another drink.

Back at Peggy’s place, Bobbie can’t figure out why Peggy’s being so hospitable for no apparent reason. She keeps pressing, but Peggy’s not giving it up and I wish she would because I have a feeling I’m about to get some valuable info here. I’m right, by the way.

Turns out that while Peggy was in denial about the birth of her son, Don was trying to figure out where the hell she disappeared to, since they’ve got makeshift dildos and lipstick to sell to women and she’s the only one who knows how to do it. So he finds her and gives her a bit of the ol’ Whitman wisdom (like what I did there? Wit and wisdom? Heh): “It never happened.” Oh, Don. I’m surprised at you. Have you ever given birth or witnessed one? It’s not something you’ll soon forget.

Bobbie leaves Peggy with some advice, too: “You can’t be a man, and you shouldn’t try. Be a woman. When it’s done right, it’s very powerful business.” Oh, really? Like, hmm…I don’t know…FLIPPING A FUCKING CAR powerful?

Later, the Barretts strut into Don’s office to thank him for the whole Utz contract thing, which means that Bobbie’s probably in for a few more episodes. Which also means that Don is going to keep living dangerously. Hope Peggy’s up for a trip to the morgue next week. After a long, tense day, Don comes home to a salt-less dinner; thanks to his BS about the high blood pressure, Betty’s no longer serving it to him. Wow, now there is literally NO SPICE in his marriage. Way to get literal, writers of Mad Men. But hell, I’ll forgive it this time, since they’re starting to give up some of the goods.

End credits, Viagra and Just For Men commercials roll. Can you see Don Draper giving a moving Carousel-like speech to the Viagra people? “These guys are old, and dying…to be recognized as the virile, experienced men they are.” Now THERE’S an ad I’d set down the remote for.

Miz J, who works in advertising, has tons of opinions and a big mouth to broadcast them across the globe; however, the Internet saves her the trouble of yelling. Check out her blog at Miz J.

TELEVISION

"Date My Ex" Is Bravo’s Surreality TV, Or The World According To Narcissists.

By SexyChattyCatty

HEY BRAVO, I CONFESS I’M ADDICTED TO YOUR SHOWS LIKE AN ”INTERVENTION” SUBJECT.

I teared up when I heard that Project Runway was leaving for Lifetime. I shamefully admit that I’m even looking forward to the next season of Top Design! So why, why did you have to poison the field with “Date My Ex?”

As your promos stated, we did get to know Jo De La Rosa (Yuck!)and Slade Smiley (Double yuck!) on “The Housewives of Orange County,” and we didn’t like them then. They weren’t married and she wasn’t a housewife, just a spoiled young woman who smiled a lot and pouts prettily. She said she wanted to work but didn’t (because Slade wouldn’t allow it).

She’s a gorgeous woman who traded her beauty for yellow diamonds, big houses and expensive cars. I always got such a fake and phony vibe from the two of them.

Their breakups were always followed by her whining to her friend JJ and Slade sampling the human meat market. Once with a friend of hers, another time bringing a babe-alicious date to a “Housewife” barbecue he knew she’d be attending. Such a cad!

Slade pretended to practice tough love, insisting that if she wanted to go live by herself in L.A., well, she should just go. She did. Yaaaay. He soon followed. Boooo. Next thing you knew she was trying to launch a “singing” career with his help. He’s her “manager.” Well, he has managed to keep them in the public eye a lot longer than necessary. He’s Bravo’s Spencer Pratt.

Date My Ex begins with a fake chat with Jo and two of her friends, Myia Ingoldsby and Katy Metz, (where’s JJ? I liked her!) about life, love and Slade. They even raise the possibility they could end up back together. Oh, please. We all know he’s still paying girlfriends bills. The best they have for a future is a sweaty workout in a silk-sheeted sack.

One of Jo’s new best friends turns out to also be the host of this new dating game. For eight weeks Jo will be wined and dined by 4 suitors per week until she finds her new and improved, Slade, with Slade’s help. He’ll be living with them.

Her friends have supposedly arranged these dates. But after the initial crop of guys show up, Slade drops in to offer this warning, "No one knows Jo better than me, which means that no one probably has more influence over her." I rest my case.

I quit “Date My Ex” about 11 minutes in. It came on at 10 p.m. and I have to be up early. Why waste precious sleep time on this dreck? And, oh, did I tell you, I just don’t like them. Good luck, Jo. I’ll leave you with the wisdom of one Judge Judith Sheindlin — Beauty fades, dumb is forever.

SexyChattyCatty comments periodically at CrabbyGolightly.com on TV, America’s favorite snack food.

POP CANDY

Grrrrllllll! You Feline Vixen You! You Tease! You Chameleon! You Warbling Chanteuse!

By Elizabeth C.

PURRRRRRRRR.

Don’t I look pretty? What mood are you in, master? Shall I be a saint? A sinner? A witch or wildcat? Demure, or pure in my Sunday best? A fairy tale? Tell me what you desire, master.

My reluctant friends at BuzzFeed turned me on to this Japanese website catering to the machinations of cat owners with too much time on their hands. You can read it here in English . The creator of Cat Prin confides in an online interview that her endeavor followed hearing a voice from the sky to "do something this year!" That was back in 2000 and the rest, as they say, is history.

And I can think of nothing else to say, except thank God for the WWW and its glorious daily revelations.

Surely it will bring us all together, making the world a smaller, more peaceful place?