A Faustian Bargain and a Whole Lot of Hair.

Last Wednesday morning, I realized that there was something I wanted to tell you. Before I do that, however, please allow me to review my morning routine. I greet the sunrise from my roomy doggie bed and then step out onto a newspaper, which Dear Kathleen (the woman who helps me) has thoughtfully spread out flat on the floor for me. Each day she surprises me with a different section to peruse. After browsing the articles, I signal my appreciation by depositing my signature scent. Dear Kathleen likes to save these morning papers in a special repository next to the garage. That woman does adore me so.

Anyway, on this particular morning, I happened to glance down at a book review of David Cassidy's recently updated memoirs. Next to the article was a photo of David's darling face--that visage retains the power to move me like no other! My heart gave a flutter, and I was filled with happy memories of touring with the family on that improbably painted school bus. I recalled the matching burgundy crushed-velvet pantsuits, the Rock Star who co-wrote songs with his mother, and (of course!) the hair.

Fortunately, the reviewer avoided the twin temptations of either dismissing the struggles of former teen idols, or providing a lurid list of has-beens who didn't end well. Instead, the reviewer addressed the vagaries of early celebrity as a "faustian bargain," or as Dear Kathleen's cousins would say, "a deal with the devil."

More than one teen idol has mortgaged their future in exchange for the easy power and adoration that teens crave. Then, as the fans inevitably move on, the idol descends from their lofty perch and hopes for a soft landing. If the landing is gentle, we generally don't hear from them again for next 20 years. If the landing is spectacularly grisly, we enjoy a nation-wide moment of schadenfreude. And then we move on again.

Somehow, David Cassidy managed to avoid this either/or scenario. His landing was not gentle, but it did not kill him, either. He has managed to grow through it (like the rest of us), and pursue his interests and contribute to his world. The captivating youth has become an interesting adult. And darn cute. We're proud of him.

The Missouri Compromise (Business in The Front; Party in The Back)

It has come to my attention that the "mullet" hairstyle of the 1980's is still popular in certain areas of the country. That's just fine with this K9. I figure if it makes humans feel good about themselves, bring it on. Life is hard enough without needing to categorize and isolate each other according to hairstyles.

For this reason, I am providing a handy diagram of how to give yourself or your loved one a mullet. Apparently, this diagram has been helpful for dear Kathleen's dozen or so cousins who are ardent mullet-enthusiasts. (And, truthfully, they really do look so sharp as they drive away in their Camaro's.)

Ever~~

Basia

Olympic-Style Microdermabrasion

As another Olympic season closes, much is being made of the uniforms worn by Women's Beach Volleyball teams.

The official explanation is that the uniforms are designed to keep the sand out. (One does not want chafing in one's yin and yang.) This does not, however, explain why the men's teams continue to wear shorts-to-the-knee and tank tops.

Some of the more cynical among us suggest that the bikini's are simply to increase viewership, and thus brand recognition for the corporate sponsors. ("If you've bought a Coke in the last eighty years...") There may be some merit to this argument. A google search using the words "corporate sponsorship olympics" returned figures as high as $4 billion invested by companies hoping to be noticed by viewers.

A girl has to wonder if those sponsors had any influence on designing those uniforms. And if they did, that's just fine by this K9. The world tuned in and cheered for their teams and learned some things about each other.

Perhaps that was a $4 billion well spent.

Ever~~
Basia

Peggy Phlegm.

Once again, I've just got to say it: thank God for Olympic Gold Medalist Peggy Fleming.

She is truly the voice of sanity in a world gone mad. As you probably know, the World Health Organization recently estimated that tobacco will kill up to a billion people in the 21st century, 10 times as many as it killed in the 20th.

Ten times more. That's quite a few people.

I have to wonder if Peggy would have enjoyed the success she has if she were a smoker. Perhaps not. Perhaps she would have worked at a Dry Cleaners and made dear Kathleen's good sweaters smell funny. Perhaps all those posters lining dear Kathleen's bedroom walls would have featured a different skater, or perhaps there would be no posters at all.

Therefore, thank God for Peggy Fleming. Thank God for her resolve and persistence. And while you're at it, say a prayer for the one billion (read that again--it has a "b") people who will die of tobacco-related illness during the next ninety years . Let's hope the World Health Organization has their numbers wrong.

Ever~~

Basia

My Birthday--August Something

It's my birthday, and once again, dear Kathleen pulled out all the stops. (By the way, the photo at left is of Yours Truly at the tender age of one year.)

As I'm sure you read in the society pages, my party was quite a "To Do;" located in Forest Park with a large air-conditioned tent and a guest list of hundreds.

Dear Kathleen thinks of everything; and when she doesn't, she hires it done. Therefore, I enjoyed appropriate back-lighting the entire evening. My seat was cleverly situated between the dessert table and the gift table, with an excellent view of Toni Tennille performing her set. (So glad she and The Captain are still together, after 25 years of marriage! But he, being the shy one, no longer performs.) She dedicated Muskrat Love to dear Kathleen, which I consider a very thoughtful gesture. And then, as she introduced Donna Summer, they sang a duet of Bad Girls while dear Kathleen provided the "toot toot/beep beep" descant! So charming...so very charming.

After the sit-down dinner and concert, guests filed out onto the lawn for the fireworks show. A near mishap was avoided...I held my breath when that second "B" resisted lighting up, presenting the crowd with "BEST BIRTHDAY WISHES ASIA." Fortunately, though, dear Kathleen offered her lighter and the back-up fuse was lit just in the nick of time. Whew! Close one!

No sooner had the fireworks ended than the hot air balloons lit up like a forest of beautiful, glowing blobs. The lift-off was truly breathtaking, particularly because the humid, night air was filled with the scent of burning kerosene. Imagine my surprise as a parachute-clad military band leaped from the balloons as soon as they reached 5,000 feet! Astonishing! I could even hear the piccolo during the coda of Stars and Stripes Forever as the band came lilting down through the leaves and branches of nearby trees.

As guests filtered out, one by one, drowsy with laughter and merriment, they were given a memento of our evening together--my likeness cast in genuine resin.

This was not an evening we will forget any time soon...dear Kathleen truly out-did herself this time. Many, many thanks to the woman who helps me.

Ever~~

Basia

P.S. We still have a few pallets of the Resin Basia figurines. They are available first come/first served through this blog or some of your Better Retailers. Don't hesitate to contact my publicist, Kristin, for more information.

The Most Professional 27 Seconds on Television

I usually try to humor Kathleen when she rambles on about Hollywood gossip while she paints my nails.

Bless her heart.

This week it was all about Miley Someone and who she is more popular than, and blah blah yawn. Dear, simple Kathleen, of course, doesn't put it together that these orchestrated "rivalries" are just attempts to garner publicity.

Back in my day, we starlets pretended not to notice the competition. If some boorish interviewer insisted on bringing it up, we casually denied it all. Think of it as an unspoken agreement between Lauren, Katherine , Bette, myself, Joan, et al. And we adhered to it, not out of fear, but out of professionalism.

Please let me share with you what I call "The Most Professional 27 Seconds on Television," featuring my old friend and current Spirit Guide, Bette Davis: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4Y9B9PJnW8&NR=1

I regret that I don't know how to make the clip appear in this post, but I believe you can follow the link. And I also believe you can follow the logic--the true Professional, when asked directly, denies petty rivalries with a flick of her ashes.

Ever~~

Basia

P.S. Regardless of my hectic schedule, I try to answer all my fan mail personally. You can reach me through the "comments" section on this blog site.

Among Friends...

I am happy to report that my hiatus has ended, and I am back online. Dear Kathleen (the woman who helps me) and I have been summering in the Riviera, enjoying three-martini brunches with friends and drowsy afternoons in the sand. It has been a much-needed break, and I return refreshed.

Our bliss, of course, was marred by the loss of hard-working and talented Sydney Pollack, who, "directed more than 21 films and 10 television shows, acted in over 30 films or shows, and produced over 44 films" during a 48 year career. This astonishingly prolific man will certainly be missed.

Enjoy the rest of summer. It goes so quickly.

Ever~~

Basia

I See London

Being the culturally-aware K9 that I am, the crisis in Myanmar (Burma) has been weighing heavily upon my delicate shoulders. Perhaps most disturbing is the knowledge that this most recent post-hurricane crisis is merely the top layer of human suffering in that country. Women, in particular, have been victimized by a military regime that uses systematic sexual violence to control it's citizenry. My understanding is that this has been the norm since I was just a puppy--perhaps longer. (One source indicates at least 20 years.)

I am pleased to share with you that a group of women in Canada have decided to use their underwear to make a difference. (You read that correctly, by the way.) Evidently, there is a superstition among men in Myanmar (Burma) that contact with a woman’s underwear will rob them of their power.

These Canadian women have started a group called, "Panties for Peace" and are asking women around the world to mail their panties to local Burmese embassies. Their desire is to symbolically show the regime that the world is aware of their activities, and does not approve. Ultimately, they hope to bring an end to the gross violations of human rights in Burma, especially those committed against women.

This campaign has been already launched around the world, in Australia, the Philippines, Germany, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Poland, the USA and in Brazil. Here is their link: Panties for Peace CAMPAIGN Panties for Peace - Canada If one does not want to mail in panties, there is also an option to simply make a donation.

I have asked Dear Kathleen (the woman who helps me) to send in her 100% cotton, waist-high version of "panties," which could scarcely be called "briefs." I've seen less cotton on a queen-sized comforter, but that's another conversation for another day. I don't wear panties, of course, but if I did, I would invest in one of those understated little numbers that Victoria can't keep secret.

They would make the Burmese men weak, indeed.

Ever~~

Basia

Please welcome our guest blogger...

Greetings, dear Basia and loyal readers of her blog. I am Lucky. Yes, I truly am lucky, but that is actually my name, hence the capital L. Basia asked me to write a discourse on the true meaning of glamour. I am honored and touched. After much meditation and reflection, I humbly share the following insight.

Realizing that most of Basia's readers are human, I hope after reading this, you will begin to see your pets as a reflection of the Divine love, loyalty and acceptance that all beings--human or animal--truly seek. I hope you will be a source of that unselfish love and genuine acceptance to all those whose lives you touch. The human world is in great need of this gift. We dogs have been trying to train you for a long time.

I know, you are probably wondering what all this has to do with glamour. I am getting there. I used to think of glamour as something artificial or external...like the looks that get your mug on the cover of Dog Fancy. But after much reflection, I see a broader meaning. I learned this through my relationship with the woman who takes care of me. From this point forward, I will refer to her as "my friend."

You see, unlike Basia, I am not pretty or glamourous in the classic sense of the word. You won't find me in a tiara...not on your life! I would describe my general appearance as "scruffy." I'm not much for grooming, my breath is rather pungent and have a few unmannerly habits. However, to my friend, I am the most beautiful girl in the world. She loves me as I am. And I love her the same way. I don't care if she is wearing her bent up glasses or if her hair's a mess. Her morning breath doesn't bother me. I like her without condition.

I've taught her a few tricks and she's taught me a few. I like to lie down in the spot on the floor where the sun is shining. Sometimes, when no one is watching, she does this to. I like to follow her around the house. I am truly interested in whatever she is doing. She takes me outside for walks and to the dog beach sometimes and I really love that, but I'm not expecting it. I am just as happy doing whatever she really wants to do.

Sometimes, I get nervous because my friend's son has people called "boys" over with loud voices and big feet. When they come into the house, I hide under the table that I have made my den. Sometimes, I get so scared, that I wet myself. My friend knows this about me and she is really forgiving and compassionate. I also know a few things about her that are not very flattering and I give her the same acceptance.

Every once in awhile, I get mixed up and think the carpet is grass. It really feels like it. If I poop on the rug, my friend tells me how she feels about this, but quickly forgives. Just like I forgive her when she gets busy and doesn't let me outside as much as she should.

What I've observed is that humans don't usually accept, forgive and love each other without condition the way dogs do. It's really a shame because to be glamourous is to be someone whose kindness, gentleness, giving and forgiving shines forth from the inside. This Light is so big and comfy that you just want to lie down in it and soak it up.

With Love and Loyalty,

A Lucky and Glamourous Dog

The Center of the Bell Curve

Just in from my Afternoon Constitutional. Dear Kathleen (the woman who helps me) enjoys toweling off my paws after a walk on rainy afternoons, so I always let her. As she was touching up my pedicure, I reviewed some of the key blogs I track on Gmail Reader. Seth Godin’s new post reflects his usual brilliance, and I wanted to share it with my readers.

As always, please let me confirm that none of these ideas—not even one—originate with me. I am merely the conduit. My prayer is that I might accessorize the message with my own certain cachet…my own…je ne sais quois.

Now then, please note the above illustration. This represents the rise and fall of that which is “cool” in pop culture. The bell curve on the left represents the enthusiasm cycle of the True Hipsters. And you know who you are; you are the one with the Scandinavian shoes. Your wine glass has no stem. Your irony throbs.

The bell curve on the right, conversely, represents the enthusiasm cycle of the Unwashed Masses. In the push and shove of 24/7, discerning the difference between “passé” and “edgy” becomes a luxury you would rather not afford. Your entertainment may be pre-digested, but it comforts and lightens a heavy load. It is popular for a reason.

To put it differently, this diagram illustrates that the farther you go to the right, the closer you get to Branson.

Seth Godin speaks to the artsy types, who find themselves between the bell curves. He encourages them to make a choice.

I, however, would like to encourage you (my Gentle Reader) to embrace the curve you’re in, and enjoy it. Apologize to no one. Every bit of artistic expression legitimately requires an audience. Enjoy it. Relax. Put your feet up.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Kathleen we would listen to that Barbara Mandrell CD before bedtime.

Ever~~
Basia

The Repentant Bow-Wow

Today I came across a quote from Carl Sandburg which stopped me dead in my literary tracks.

“Books are but empty nothings compared with living, pulsing men and women. Life is stranger and greater than anything ever written about it.”

He’s right, and I am guilty. As my regular readers know, I read and write with a compulsion that I have never quite understood. And that compulsion has often kept me from turning to life and giving it the thorough sniff it truly deserves.

I’m feeling that feeling of wanting to change. When you think of me, gentle reader, please pray for this K9’s life in letters. My intention is to steward it well.

Ever~

Basia

P.S. The painting is by an artist named, "Mike Dooney." Here is a link to his blog http://sketchpaints.blogspot.com/

Culture of fear? Whatever could you mean?

I just returned from my evening constitutional with Dear Kathleen, the woman who helps me.

We were enjoying a lovely evening beneath the stars until our bliss was perforated by a barking dog. (There truly is one in every crowd.) This particular K9 was announcing his warning about walking by his perceived property. I was unimpressed with this display, and communicated that to him by leaving my Signature Scent. Dear Kathleen acted on her propensity to collect my scent into a plastic grocery bag and save it (presumably) for some special occasion. Nonetheless, I let my opinion be known.

This dog’s behavior reminds me a bit of how certain democracies organize themselves. It seems that when our society talks to itself, it attaches fear to any issue it doesn’t like. Name the issue, and we can likewise name the fear used to subdue it.

Gun control? Hitler’s first move was to force German citizens to register all their guns, and look what happened to them.

Tax Reform? Just another effort by the Neo-Cons to establish their New World Order.

Universal health care? England has universal health care, and they have to wait years for basic services.

Anti-pornography laws? Today they take away the porn, tomorrow they’ll shut down PBS.

Gay marriage? It’s a slippery slope. The next thing you know, they’ll want to marry their pets.

Global warming? There is no global warming. There is only elaborate Leftist propaganda, intended to distract us from what’s really going on.

Organic dog food? This nonsense exists only for bleeding hearts with more money than sense.

Waxy yellow build-up? Diet soda aftertaste?

Need I continue?

Enjoy yourselves, humans. I’m certainly not in a position to give advice, but I would like to encourage you to enjoy yourselves. We’ve been advised that perfect love casts out fear. Something to ponder…and now, if you’ll excuse me, it is time for my afternoon peanut butter treat.

Controlling Currency for Fun and Profit

Dear Kathleen (the woman who helps me) is having a busy day. After she draws my bath, trims my nails, and finishes my wash and set, I’ve asked her to complete some fact checking for me. It seems I cannot recall one single human government on earth who have managed to control their own currency. Not one. According to writer James Kunstler, not even “the most powerful, authoritarian dictatorships in history” have been able to pull that one off.
I’m hoping dear Kathleen (the woman who helps me) finds evidence to the contrary. After all, I would hate to think of the US Government trying to accomplish what has never worked for anyone else.
If any government was ever motivated to control their currency, I would think it would be the Weimar Republic. They sure gave it the old college try, in the face of truly impossible odds. Their efforts fell to naught, however, and in 1922 and 1923 Germany experienced truly astonishing inflation rates. I understand that prices were known to double in a day, causing people to carry cash in suitcases. Imagine, if that currency had been controlled, people might have been more content, Adolph Hitler might not have attained his baffling popularity, and World War II might have been averted.
But “might have beens” are easy, especially when you are a dog. Please allow me to leave you with this illustration: the photo above is of a coin worth 200 German marks. It was made during 1923, so people would not have to carry the burdensome paper equivalent of 200 marks. Prices rose so quickly, however, that the coin was soon worthless, and the government stopped making them.
Be wise, humans. Be wise.

Vintage Clothing

Dear, dear simple Kathleen (the woman who helps me) learned a hard lesson recently about fashion. It seems she was paid a compliment on her “vintage clothing,” although she did not realize she was wearing vintage clothing at the time. She thought she was wearing her Tuesday sweater, which she has worn every Tuesday, which gets laundered on Saturday, and dried on Sunday. And then worn again on Tuesday.

You get the idea.

Fashion, like longevity, has its place. Humans use it to express themselves. Yes, it is a modification from the pristine state of Fashion Readiness that dogs enjoy, but it is still important in its way. Those modifications are part of being human; enjoy them. Express yourself. Be unapologetically fabulous, in your own little human way.

Ever,
~~Basia

Groovin'

Leave it to the humans to think it’s “cute” that dogs can dance. Of course we can dance! Remember, we invented tail wagging.

Truthfully, the “dancing dogs” phenomenon is more a manifestation of dogs humoring their humans than the humans amusing their dogs. We know that humans have an unhealthy propensity for seat work. We also know that, as the more highly evolved species, it is our job to get you off your haunches and doing something spiritual.

Like dancing, for example.

Dance, whether secular, ritual, abstract, or (my personal favorite) interpretive, may express ancient harvest celebrations, love, patriotism, social issues, or the intrinsic need to get down. And although dogs may not have those handy opposable thumbs you humans are so excited about, we are fully capable of executing the seven movements of dance: to bend, to rise, to stretch, to glide, to jump, to turn, and to dart.

Party on.

The Agony and the Pageantry

Gentle Readers,
Many thanks for your thoughtful letters and sundry messages regarding my welfare. I am fine. I have been away from my computer because of responsibilities related to Pageant Season.

Coaching the girls is not easy, as you can imagine.

Example: to prepare for the swimsuit competition, the past 12 hours were spent rehearsing the Walk-In-High-Heels-Smile-Turn-Turn-Back-Step-Pivot-Step-Walk-Walk-Walk combination. We nearly lost Miss Montana with that one, and I had to keep reminding Miss Missouri that, even though she may be a non-finalist, she is not to smoke while on stage.

I have my work cut out for me. The hours are grueling.

I hope to be back at my blog before too long. Until then,
Ever,

~~Basia

Hizzle Fo Shizzle.

Occasionally, fans will write in and inquire about the correct pronunciation of my name. To clarify this issue, please let me give you a bit of background.

As with so many things in life, it all goes back to the Spice Girls of the 1990’s. A little-known fact about one of their members, Posh Spice, is that she was originally named “Pasia” (after me) and later the “Spice” was added purely as a gimmick. Merchandisers of popular music will do this. Anyway, during all those hard miles of touring, the girls shortened Pasia’s name to “Posh”, and there it stayed.

I’m not hurt that her name was changed. Not at all. I’m glad the young lady developed a sense of identity, and hence, a name of her own.

To help you remember how to pronounce my name, I will assume the persona of my Rap Artist Alter-Ego, Fluff Doggy S.N.I.F., and I will perform a little number for you. I wish you could hear me perform it, because I’m fabulous. That can’t happen though, so reading the lyrics will have to suffice.

Please be assured that dear Kathleen (the woman who helps me) is dressed accordingly, glowering behind dark glasses, and spitting percussively into a microphone.

Yo’ my name is Basia.
And no, I wouldn’t josh ya.
And I’m a clevah glam girl
Just like my Spicy Posh-ah.
Cause on Da Man’s hogwash-ah
I’m puttin’ dat kibosh’ah,
And if his language ain’t polite
I’ll get out my mouthwash-ah.

Yo.

Suspicion

As a K9, I try to avoid foolish entanglements in the world of Human Politics. It is too similar to crossing a property line that has already been marked by another dog. (You do the math.) Recently, however, I heard of something that has me a bit mystified.

I understand that a conversation is afoot about deporting all the “illegal aliens” currently residing in the US. I have a difficult time seeing how this can happen smoothly.

Please help me out here:
· Will people be rounded up based on “looking Mexican?”
· Will homes and apartments be searched?
· Will neighbors and co-workers be expected to turn each other in?
· Will neighbors and co-workers become the proud new owners of all the vehicles, homes, furniture, etc, of people once they are deported?
· Perhaps most importantly, who will get rich off this endeavor? Because certainly someone will.

Something similar to this was tried before; I think it was called “The Fugitive Slave Law,” and it led to Civil War. But I may ask dear Kathleen (the woman who helps me) to double-check my facts. She’s always so helpful with that, after she finishes my dishes.

Humans, please let me caution you in this endeavor. Your communities are already stratified and brittle. Please think twice before you mandate suspicion.

Ever,
~~Basia

Why dogs do not throw.

I learned recently that the act of throwing develops human mental acuity.

That explains so much. I often see humans performing that strange action with their arms. Dear Kathleen (the woman who helps me) occasionally spends her day off attending sporting events that involve throwing. And I recall when I was a pup, dear Kathleen had a habit of throwing my toys across the backyard for no apparent reason. I would retrieve the items, assuming (foolishly) that she would put them back in the house where they belong. Instead, she would invariably respond with literal squeals of delight, only to throw the toys again. Honestly! It’s moments like these that I wonder what I am paying her for.

Thanks to the brilliance of the high level thinkers at ted.com, I now understand that Kathleen was developing her mental acuity. And apparently it worked, because she eventually stopped throwing my toys. Well, that and I stopped chasing them.

I Love Capitalism. God Help Me, I Love It So.

So much on the internet is free. Well, actually, so much everywhere is free. Why pay for anything? Well, Seth Godin, a human I adore, offers seven product features that humans will pay for, when they could otherwise get the product for free. Below is a marriage of his ideas with my certain je ne sais quoi. (In other words, none—not one—of these ideas are mine.)

· Immediacy -- Sooner or later you can find a free copy of whatever you want, but having it delivered to your inbox, the moment you want it, is something humans will pay for. Remember that immediacy is a relative term. Those who are uncomfortable waiting will pay handsomely to get it now.

· Personalization -- Having something personalized means you’ve had a conversation with a creator or an artist or a producer. You have a relationship. When dear Kathleen (the woman who helps me) arranges for my bath towels to be monogrammed, she contacts the embroiderer. It is a relationship that produces personalization. Humans will pay dearly for that.

· Interpretation – Puppies are free; obedience school requires tuition. Certain things become valuable to us only through support and guidance.

· Authenticity – Some dogs think of themselves as purebreds, but they are Bargain Bin until the appropriate papers are produced.

· Accessibility –Many humans will be happy to pay others to tend their "possessions." Have you noticed that iTunes backs everything up, pays the creators, and delivers to humans their desires? Netflix does the same thing. Most of this material is available free somewhere, if humans want to find it, tend it, back it up, and organize it. Or, in exchange for a few dollars a month, others can take care of it for you.

· Embodiment – Even as a K9, I can appreciate the difference between words on a computer screen, and words printed on luxurious paper and bound in hardback. It smells and sounds and feels so good. I understand. Or how about live music, with actual real human bodies manipulating musical instruments? The music is free; the bodily performance expensive.

· Patronage – I consider myself a patron of the arts. As my readers know, dear Kathleen (the woman who helps me) delivers me regularly to the symphony, to the theater, to galleries, and of course to those ubiquitous-but-necessary opening night receptions. This is a part of my artistic bent—I honor it; I breathe into it. It is my small, humble offering to the artists and musicians who add such beauty to my life.
(A tip of the hat to Seth Godin http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2008/02/better-than-fre.html, who in turn tips his hat to Kevin Kelly. This is beginning to look like the finale to “A Chorus Line”)

Multi-tasking with Barbra

Barbra inspires me in so many ways, and on so many levels.

If you do not want to watch the entire seven minutes, please consider zipping forward to about 3:30. In the span of only 20 well-choreographed seconds, Barbra:
· Fans herself
· Puts a cigarette in her fabulous mouth
· Strikes a match
· Lights the cigarette
· Takes a drag and exhales cinematically (in profile)
· Drinks a Pepsi
· Centers her breath
· Begins singing
· Manages her microphone

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djjGxt7meng

The song, Left in the Dark, was originally going to be recorded by (are you sitting down?) Meat Loaf! But he had a voice injury, so Barbra took it on, thank God.

World Center of the Dog

It has come to my attention that the Headquarters of the United Nations may be relocating outside of the United States. Although I’ve never done post-graduate work in geopolitics, I do listen to NPR regularly, and consider myself something of an Armchair Geopolitical Maven. With that in mind, I offer this humble suggestion:

As the HQ of the UN moves to God-Knows-Where, the current UN building (actually a complex) will be standing empty. I would like to suggest that it become the official World Center of the Dog; a gathering place for dogs and those who love them. It will be a place of scholarship, of meditation, and of elegance. Oh, and also a place of treats. And plenty of peanut butter, every afternoon at 3:00.

The UN complex was completed in the 1950’s--a terrific era for design, if you like pink Formica counter-tops and boomerang-shaped coffee tables. I’m thinking perhaps we could benefit from a little less of the European Modernist style, and a little more of what I like to think of as the “New American Dog Aesthetic.”

My plan will feature a complete cleaning and restoration of the exterior and interior spaces, with many spaces being converted to ceremonial purposes. Perhaps a labyrinth on the lawn, with plenty of user-friendly shrubs. Old office space can be renovated for galleries, spas, and meeting rooms. There will also be a 1500-seat auditorium with state of-the art projection facilities. And naturally, there will be upgrades to fire-safety, security, telecommunications, and heating, air conditioning, and ventilating systems.

Those are just a few of my thoughts. I welcome yours.

Ever,
~~Basia

Catsuits are not just for cats.

The discerning K9 does not limit herself to fashion suitable only for dogs.

Dressing outside the standard confines of what all the other dogs are wearing has often led me to some of my most exciting wardrobe options—including the awkwardly-named “catsuit”. (Please hold the “catwoman” punchlines. They’ve already been said.) Catsuits blend a modernist edge with a minimalist sensibility, and turn heads at the dog park on any Saturday morning. Let’s take a brief tour of the variations of the catsuit family:

“Unitards” are those shiny, spandexy numbers frequently worn by acrobats, gymnasts, and the occasional circus performer. As practical as unitards may be, I try to avoid them. Trust me; I have all the admiration in the world for Super Heroes. I just don’t want to look like one.

“Bodygloves” and “bodystockings” are similar items, often worn by modern dancers. Generally these are monochromatic, neutral-toned, and worn with no shoes. They are also unforgiving. I don’t recommend combining a bodyglove with bodyfat unless you have plenty of bodyimage confidence!

But the basic “Catsuit” is the well-appointed version of the above. Stylish and fashion-forward, these go from daywear to evening with only a change of accessories. Catsuits are available online and also at your better retailers.

Ever,
~~Basia

A word about fishnet—I understand that some catsuits are made of fishnet. How nice. I hope the fish enjoy them, because we certainly won’t be wearing them, will we?