One lump or two?
Hey, Lazybones! Are you too damn
attractive for your stupid job? Do you believe in your heart of hearts that
somewhere out there is a special person just dying to pay off your credit
cards? Maybe you’re not sure how to satiate this nagging sense of entitlement.
Fortunately, the Internet is always there for you, even if the rest of us think
you should consider pulling your own weight.
Over at SugarDaddie.com — “Where
the classy, attractive, and affluent can meet” — are a gaggle of men and
women ready to indulge in some mutually beneficial activities between those who
have and those who want. Visitors to the site can search for Sugar Daddies and
Sugar Mommies who “like to spoil and pamper,” or if you’re an aspiring Sugar
Parent, you can peruse the selection of Sugar Babes itching for your financial
affection.
Among those up for sugar adoption are
Educatedpunk, a 26-year-old Wisconsinite who works in
nuclear physics and whose photo shows him blow-drying his skyscraping Mohawk
while wearing a tux, as well as Honeykisses84, a 21-year-old Californian
“looking for a long-term benefactor” but who is “not an escort or prostitute
— I expect to not be treated like one.” And one woman’s sugar biological
clock seems to be ticking: Sallysugar, a 41-year-old
bisexual divorcee, already has two sugar kids, but she’d like another —
preferably “a nice young lady since they make much better shopping buddies.”
Sure, it seems slightly seedy, but
who are we to judge? “Companionship” has a wholesome and law-abiding ring to
it, and loopholes that you can drive a tank through make this country what it
is. Sugardaddie.com — which will soon team up with MTV for a reality show —
really just goes to prove the old adage: you scratch my back, I’ll scratch up
yours.
— Dayna Papaleo
Meow, meow, meow
Where, oh, where did people get the
idea that animals can sing?
We’re not talking about birdsong here
or even the mournful yodel of the coyote. This is not about the sounds of
nature with all their bizarre effluvia, from whale song to chittering
grasshoppers.
If it floats your boat to buy from
those soundscape kiosks that always seem to be
waiting innocently enough until some poor unsuspecting passer-by triggers their
sensor, then please pursue your need. And, let me point out for the
unenlightened, Alvin and his fellow
chipmunks were not really chipmunks. We can leave it to your imagination how
the vocal effect was achieved, but castrati were not employed according to an
official Capitol representative.
I’m talking the Singing Dogs, the
Jingle Cats, and whatever other heinous animals feel moved to semi-melodious
vocalizing.
The original Singing Dogs (Caesar,
King, Pearl, and Dolly — Pussy
rounded out the group on later recordings) started in Copenhagen
in 1955 when Danish sound engineer Carl Weismann
spliced together tapes which had been ruined by nearby dogs barking. Eureka!
I have created… Jingle Bells! Bwa-ha-ha-ha! The
recording was a huge hit for RCA/Victor, managing to resurface periodically and
sell again to the next generation of entranced listeners. As if people will
listen to any heavily altered animal sounds, the Singing Dogs have had to face
many attempts to knock them from their pedestal.
The Jingle Cats have lately ruled the
den, selling a disturbing two million copies worldwide. Mike Spalla, musician and owner of 19 cats, decided to record
his freeloaders. Binky is the lead. We have their
success (and our own dollars) to thank for the emergence of the Jingle Dogs,
spawned from their cameos on Jingle Cats recordings. Their newest album, King
of the Woof, will be out in 2006. May Santa’s reindeer leave something special
on your roof next Christmas if you buy it.
— Craig Brownlie
This article appears in Dec 28, 2005 – Jan 3, 2006.
