If You Can Crowdsource A Logo Design, You Can Crowdsource A Job Assignment, Right?

I just read a blog in MediaPost about the “Roar of Crowdsourcing,” where Thom Forbes recalls how GAP unveiled its new logo, only to fold it back up and return to its decades-old original design.

“Crowd wisdom” ruled, with a GAP spokesperson writing, “We’ve learned just how much energy there is around our brand, and after much thought, we’ve decided to go back to our iconic blue box logo.”

But GAP didn’t close the door completely.

On its Facebook page, the retailer extends this generous invitation: “We know this logo created a lot of buzz and we’re thrilled to see passionate debates unfolding! So much so that we’re asking you to share your designs. We love our version, but we’d like to see other ideas.”

That’s right. “We’d like to see other ideas."

Excuse me, GAP, but do you have a budget in mind?

No wonder we’re seeing more companies ask for free advice on Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn.

They know they can get it.

One marketing employee with a large manufacturer recently posted a request for product designs on his LinkedIn page, saying it would “help a lot” with his upcoming management meeting.

He must have given a stellar presentation.

All he had to do was assemble the answers.

Finding The Christmas Spirit.

Christmas is where you find it.

And Harlequin Cat found it here.

Hope your holidays are filled with quiet moments.

Peace.

A Man's Home Is His Sandcastle.

For four days, people from around the world strolled a shimmering white beach to view sand sculptures at the Siesta Key Crystal Classic in Sarasota, FL.

On the show’s second morning, a small crowd formed around a castle of fairy-tale proportions. An older man – tanned and wearing designer swim trunks, a gold necklace and polarized Oakleys -- peered up at the castle’s winding stairs.

Next to him, a young girl contemplated scrunching her big toe into the moat.

And just a foot away, a homeless man with caked, matted hair wondered what was going on inside the sculpted fortress. His imagination squeezed into one of the tiny windows and floated over to where his mind’s eye lingered – near a massive oak table covered with a white cloth and gold coins.

Lighted iron candlesticks revealed a sumptuous banquet.

Gleaming pewter goblets reflected faces -- of a king or a knight, a jester or troubadour?

Suddenly, a blast of trumpets. The homeless man covered his ears and dropped to his knees.

Shaking, he looked up at the sky, only to see a silvery plane bound for Milwaukee.

So much for reverie.

But for a moment, he was a prince, a prince who had a home.

How A Car Brand Can Melt Your Ice Cream.

Imagine you’re approaching an intersection where two cars are waiting side by side for the light to change. You’re in a hurry with cold groceries in your trunk. Do you pull in behind the BMW Z3 or the shiny new VW Beetle?

On the one hand, the Beetle is advertised as a “thoroughly modern take on an icon” that’s ahead of its time.

But it’s a Beetle.

On the other hand, the Z3 was replaced by the Z4 in late 2002. It’s an old model and probably has some miles on it.

But it’s a roadster. James Bond drove one in GoldenEye, remember?

You know your two quarts of ice cream are beginning to melt, so you slip in behind the Z3. The light turns green, and off speeds the Beetle, while the driver of the Z3 finishes her texting.

You just based your decision on a brand.

As you unload your milkshakes into the freezer, you berate yourself for assuming that people embody the brand virtues of the cars they drive.

But that’s what car companies are hoping for. It’s what every brand hopes for.

It’s why most of us will park next to a Mercedes-Benz thinking our doors won’t get dinged. That’s the power of a brand, even in a bad economy.

Remember Mailboxes On A Pole?

“Grandma, what are these? They’re pretty.”

“They’re mailboxes. It’s how people used to get their letters, bills and junk mail. But now we get everything electronically. They look like lunchboxes, don’t they?”

“What’s a lunchbox?”

“A lunchbox is what kids used to pack their sandwiches in so they could take their lunch to school and not have to pay for 25%-nutritious cafeteria food.”

“Where did they put the lunchboxes … I mean, mailboxes?”

“At the end of our driveways. I remember having to walk almost 15 feet to get to ours. Sometimes I’d have to brave heavy winds and snow. If it rained, I’d get my hair wet. Winter was the worst. I’d have to put on my coat and gloves. You kids today don’t realize how lucky you have it. When I was your age, we didn’t have email. We had to lick a stamp and put it on an envelope, then lick the envelope flap to seal it shut. And that was for each letter and each bill! Then we’d have to put the flag up on the mailbox so the postman knew we had outgoing mail. But we weren’t afraid of hard work back then.”

“Gross, Grandma. I can’t imagine licking my emails. But getting a real letter that I had to open with my hands sounds kinda neat, as long as I could text back and save buying one of those little, uh ...”

"Stamps."

Before Apple, There Were Apples.

No deep meaning in my post this week, other than to say that autumn in New England is a wonderful, crispy-crunchy time of year as far as apples go.

I’m not talking about the Apple computer brand with the ubiquitous chomped logo.

I’m talking about an Ida Red, a Honey Crisp and a juicy Fuji.

A bright-red Rome, a sweet Liberty, a bold Jonagold!

Mom’s Apple Crisp, Hot Buttered Cider and Brown Sugar Apple Pie.

I have my aye on these apples.

Baby Carrots Are All Cheese-Puffed Up.

No telling how Crispin Porter + Bogusky’s “Eat ‘Em Like Junk Food” advertising campaign will boost sales of baby carrots.

But according to the Associated Press, the goal is to double the current $1 billion baby-carrot market within two to three years.

That’s a lot of carrots.

You can bet your beta-carotene that in the business of brand makeovers, it all depends on what consumers identify as smoke and mirrors.

Let’s admit it: The American carrot has some ancestral baggage – as in canned peas and carrots, beef stew with mushy carrots, and the ever-popular carrot-and-raisin salad – a mainstay of cafeteria lines because it can be conveniently served with an ice-cream scoop.

But you gotta give it to CP+B, because the whole goal here is to convince students that when they reach for a bag of baby carrots from their high-school vending machines, they'll forget they’re reaching for a bag of cheese puffs and instead think they’re eating a nutritional vegetable while getting their “junk-food fix.”

At the risk of sounding like I have a salty chip on my shoulder, I submit that a carrot by any other name is still a carrot.

Still, Harlequin Cat thinks CP+B’s campaign has some serious crunch to it and will be watching. But in the mean time, I couldn’t resist inviting you to visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vly7hDDHMsM

Some of us just love eating carrots naturally.

What I Didn't Do This Summer.

Did you read B.C.'s comic strip yesterday? Teacher Ant asks her class to write a “detailed essay” describing what they did this summer. Student Ant walks up with his response: “In the interest of our mutual convenience, please refer to my Facebook page.”

Harlequin Cat doesn’t have a Facebook page but doesn’t want to write an essay, either. So, a photo and a few words about my summer:

Abs, not apps.

Chirps, not Tweets.

Sea foam, not smart phone.

Surfers, not surfing.

Egg rolls, not blog rolls.

Sails, not sales.

Seed pods, not podcasts.

My space, not MySpace.

Eat, Pray, Love, Sell.

Here we go again with bandwagon marketing.

In honor of this month’s film-release version of Elizabeth Gilbert’s best-selling “Eat, Pray, Love” memoir, we have these lovely promotions to consider -- in the most spiritual way, of course:

1. From the Ritz-Carlton in Sarasota, an “Eat, Stay and Love with Dinner” special.

2. An “Eat. Pray. Fall in love with Micato Safaris” inspirational India tour starting at $19,795.

3. A “Where to Eat, Pray, Love in San Antonio” tourism promotion (wonder if this would have had any effect during the Battle of the Alamo).

4. “Eat, Pray, Love eaux de parfum – emotionally charged fragrances to be worn alone or layered together, that not only transport you to a specific destination, but also to a different state of mind" ($32 each).

5. An “Eat, Pray, Love. Read” promotion from Sony advertised on HSN: "Throughout your journey of self discovery, what better way to entertain yourself than with this revolutionary library-to-go” ($229.95).

Please be advised that Harlequin Cat is in no way responsible for the unintended marketing consequences of blogging about these "Eat, Pray, Love, Sell" promotions.

Confidentially, though, I just spotted two green anoles on the lanai and am off to eat, prey and love.

HQ

Life Before Laptops.

No vacation for Harlequin Cat this summer. But am sending you a peachy-beachy postcard anyway. Try telling these vacationers they need a mouse to surf.

The Dog Days Of Summer.

It’s August. Too hot to look up the origin of “dog days of summer,” but no matter. I do a quick Internet search anyway. The word “disambiguation” on Wikipedia drives me away. So on to writing.

I happen to know this lovely lady of a Yellow Lab. Just looking at her regal pose sans heavy panting and strings of drool – well, you’d think there was nothing better to do in life than to sniff Eau de Carolina Jessamine wafting from a dry mulberry stump.

But peek on the other side of the photographer's sun-dappled cloth and you can see the effects of the dog days. A brown crunchy yard. Two cat-embossed birdbaths bone-dry. And carcasses of shriveled hibiscus flowers strewn like pink-and-white cigars.

I can’t remember a dog who lamented the dog days of summer, though.

When Is The Big Fort Worth Splash Down?

The koi are thought to signify prosperity and good luck.

Which must be true, because these colorful beauties swimming at the Japanese Garden located inside the Fort Worth Botanic Garden appear to be excited about something.

Perhaps a soon-to-be new neighbor in the Cultural District?

For Some, Fireworks Are Over Nothing.

What is it about July 4th that makes unhappy Americans shoot off missiles and bottle rockets?

Ask my neighbor. He complains all the time about how our freedoms are being taken away by Washington bureauocrats, but last night there he was, two days before Independence Day, lighting fireworks and sending brilliant sparks into the sky.

Never mind that embers bounced off roofs, smoldered in grass or terrified the wildlife. It was party time. Bang, bang, boom!

A holler over the hedge asking him to stop evoked a nasty response from his son. No way were they going to stop launching their Roman candles or twirling their silver sparklers.

So what were they celebrating? The incredible deal they got on fireworks? Their pyrotechnic expertise? The fact that they can do anything they want, even if it happens to be illegal?

Is that one of the freedoms my neighbor's missing? Not to dampen everyone's spirits, but it’s supposed to rain tonight and tomorrow night. Looks like we might be watching fireworks on TV -- ones much more spectacular than my neighbor’s super-jumbo smoke bombs.

Make Sure The Seashells Are Clean, Please.

Conversation overheard at a Florida restaurant:

Tourist 1: “We need to find a gift shop that sells pretty shells.”

Tourist 2: “Why? We’ll find a million on the beach.”

Tourist 1: “I already have two souvenir tar balls. I’m not picking up any shells that have oil on them.”

Every seashell has its own Moonlight Sonata, whether it’s waltzing in a store window or not.

The Topsy-Turvy Days Of Summer Are Here.

“Look up. Look down. Look all the way around. Your pants are falling down!”

Little kids used to chant this on the playground and then run away laughing their heads off. It was the equivalent of today’s “made you look.”

It’s what national news sources make us do every day.

Homes are selling. Homes aren’t selling. Homes are kind of selling.

Employment is up. Employment is down.

A medicine works. A medicine sometimes works.

BP’s oil spill isn’t so bad. BP’s oil spill is really bad.

Insurance companies have us covered. Insurance companies have themselves covered.

It’s going to be a long summer, I can tell already.

I better go buy a belt or two. At least retailers are doing well.

Right?

Imagine Being Blindsided By Tar Balls In The 1940s.

Imagine sitting on the beach in the 1940s, not knowing if tar balls from an oil spill are 50 or 5,000 miles away.

Imagine no YouTube page where you can log on for status updates.

No website tapping your mind for crowdsourcing solutions.

No text messages urging you to read grim, what-if computer models.

Imagine being blindsided by a seagull floating toward you, mired in oil - lungs filled with it, eyes shut by it.

No different than today.

Even with our worshipped social media tools of 2010, we are still blindsided, and with a lot less reasons to explain why.

Ronald McDonald And The Cheese Factor.

Those wanting Ronald McDonald to retire because he promotes unhealthy eating underestimate the clown's cheese factor.

He’s aged well and people still like him. A lot.

When critics called for his retirement at McDonald’s recent shareholder meeting, CEO Jim Skinner said no way, declaring that the nearly 50-year-old mascot is a beloved ambassador for the McDonald’s brand and its Ronald McDonald House Charities.

Point taken. Ronald McDonald House Charities has done a tremendous amount of good for improving the lives of children and their families throughout the world.

But when Skinner added that Ronald “does not hawk food” (and here’s where it gets cheesy), the shareholders applauded and then booed the advocacy group.

After all, the group was indicting a clown for “sending insidious messages to young people.”

But why wedge their beef between McDonald’s and the public?

Wouldn’t a better place be between parents and their kids?

Ignoring Real Effects of BP Oil Spill Is Crude.

Never mind that marine life is being put in peril.

Let’s talk about hotel beds.

Ever since BP’s platform explosion, frustrations continue to spill over. Business owners, tourism officials and politicians are crowding onto the slippery-dickery debate dock of who’s going to suffer most from 5,000 gallons of oil leaking daily into the Gulf of Mexico.

Just for a moment, let’s skip past the dead birds and iridescent swirls of oily marshes and listen to a few laments:

From a wedding coordinator: “We’re trying to calm brides panicking that their beach weddings may be ruined by the stench of petroleum.”

From an environmental group (believe it or not): “If this spill happened just three miles off our coast, how many people from around the world would be cancelling hotel reservations?”

From a dive shop owner in Key West: “There are three sports in Key West: drinking, fishing and diving. In that order. The only one that is not going to be affected is drinking.”

Granted, businesses and industries have every right to be worried and mad about how their profits will be affected by the spill, but let’s hope they also acknowledge the danger posed to local wildlife and its habitats. Every day media introduce us to more photos of oil-soaked birds. How can any of us look the other way?

Interestingly, BP rebranded itself in 2000, making its name synonymous with Beyond Petroleum to communicate “a future independent of fossil fuels.”

Pretty slick.

The True Stripes Of Cause-Related Marketing.

Can a 2.125-ounce box of Barnum’s Animals Crackers help save an endangered 500-pound tiger?

That’s what Kraft Foods and Lilly Pulitzer are hoping for. Pulitzer’s company has invited Kraft to be its exclusive retail partner in raising awareness for endangered Asian tigers.

Makes sense. Kraft Foods is already contributing to World Wildlife Federation’s tiger conservation program in Sumatra. Plus, Kraft just happens to sell Barnum’s Animals crackers – a biscuity jungle family of rhinos, hippos, giraffes, elephants and, you guessed it -- tigers.

Lilly Pulitzer gets to flex its fashion prowess by designing a limited-edition Barnum’s Animals Crackers box in signature pastels. Kraft kicks in a $100,000 contribution to WWF. And social media, special events and retail-outlet distribution combine to do the rest.

Will all these efforts help take the Asian tiger off the endangered species list? The answer is a hopeful yes, but of course nobody knows to what extent.

Will they boost cracker-box sales? The answer is a definite yes. A Kraft spokesperson says they are already seeing “great business results,” adding that the brand looks “fresher and more fashionable.”

Let’s hope that after the cute cracker boxes are sold (or have made their way to eBay) that consumers remember the cause.

After all, Asian tigers are the real limited edition.

Be Mother Nature For A Day.

Earth Day should be celebrated every day, but for whatever reason, April 22 has been selected as the 24-hour timeframe to observe our planet’s “birthday.”

Some businesses see it as a pure marketing opportunity to grow profits. Others are more earnest and involve themselves in environmental initiatives that have integrity.

It’s the difference between arranging plastic-wrapped, store-bought flowers in a vase, and planting seeds in rich, fertile soil.

Brown petals. Or new life that pushes through the coldest of seasons.

Ask people who understand – in this case, the teachers and young students at http://realschoolgardens.org.

And why not make a donation while you’re there?

Being Mother Nature for a day could grow on you.

That's The Spirit, Spirit Airlines.

Dear Spirit Airlines:

It’s not so much that you’ll be charging fees for carry-on bags.

After all, no one likes standing in the aisle waiting for a passenger to stuff a mattress in an overhead bin. Flight attendants shouldn’t have to rip off a set of hammer curls just to get bags loaded, and passengers shouldn’t be busy calculating gym-bag trajectories.

No doubt your new fees will reduce injuries, pay for rising fuel costs and help empty planes faster. (It’s also nice to see you’re lowering your basic fares to mitigate the new charges.)

But Spirit, you’re leaving money on the table. Consider what your CEO Ben Baldanza said: “Nobody brings their package to FedEx or UPS and expects them to ship it for free.”

Both FedEx and UPS charge by weight (FedEx rates, for example, increase for items weighing more than 150 pounds).

You’ve applied weight criteria to bags. Why not humans?

Bet you a case of Fancy Feast you’ve at least thought about it.

Maybe I should wager a can instead of a case.

Sincerely yours,

HQ Cat, 11.5 pounds

Only Time Will Tell If "Womanity" Falls Flat.

A new word has thudded into the global marketing ground: “Womanity.”

Clarins Fragrance Group and Thierry Mugler have created womanity.com and want to know what "Womanity" means to you.

Answers will be collected and possibly used to develop luxury fragrance and fashion products.

From what I can tell, the ultimate goal is to cash in on internet crowdsourcing and bring the Thierry Mugler brand “to a new frontier.” Don’t worry, though. Mugler is “not suddenly giving up his role as a creator.” The dialogue between creator and crowds is just being “enriched.”

Against a background of brooding music, the site opens with:

Womanity is me. Womanity is you. Womanity is her.

And just when you think it can’t get any better, you’re treated to definitions from real women who, for whatever reason, feel the need to express their “Womanity.” I’m not including the responses because most remind me of that hear-me-roar song by Helen Reddy, “I Am Woman” recorded in 1972.

Which is my point.

There’s nothing new here except a marketing-purposed word that’s hard to pronounce. Plus, I’ve never been a fan of empowering sisterhoods, all-female networking groups and girls’ night-outs.

Why do we perpetuate the need to be defined by gender?

Remove the “ity” from “Womanity.” Add it to “human.”

That’s the group I belong to.

And it's much easier to pronounce.

Nacho Way To Win Loyal Customers.

OK, I’m still on my birthday rant. My owner just received cards from two more friends he never knew he had: his optometrist from five years ago and a Mexican food diner where he ate only once.

Nice for the Mexican food place to remember him. I can’t blame them for sending along a coupon since it could help their business in these tough economic times.

But my owner tossed the coupon in the trash. It was for a free meal, up to $8.99, with these caveats:

1. Minimum party of 12 required; no separate checks.

2. Appetizers and desserts not included.

3. Tuesdays only, 3 to 5 p.m.

4. Reservations must be made 14 days in advance.

5. Seating available in our almost-remodeled section (excuse noise).

6. We reserve the right to recycle uneaten portions for future guests.

7. No doggie bags permitted. See No. 6.

8. Clear your own table and you may be eligible to enter a drawing to receive future coupons.

So guess what?

Next week my owner’s going to get his eyes checked.

Dentists, Dry Cleaners And Insurance Agents Make The Best Birthday Friends.

I’m miffed. I spent five minutes finding just the right card for my owner’s birthday, and all I got was a pat on the head.

My card showed a mugshot of a cat, with the verse reading:

“Guilty of stalking. May birthday happiness follow you everywhere…day and night…always there…every freakin’ moment.”

I thought it was a very nice sentiment. Most Hallmark sentiments usually are.

But I’m a cat and will not fight for my owner’s affections. If he thinks birthday cards from his dentist and dry cleaner are more thoughtful, fine. He can keep filing them in his birthday-card folder.

That’s right. He saves them.

Which explains why I’m sitting here looking at cards from Blockbuster, Wieners & Wine, Gold Rush BBQ, Bath & Racquet Fitness, Coke Rewards, the White House and Fiona’s Fondue Palace.

Wait a minute. Where’s State Farm?

He always gets a card from State Farm. They’re close personal friends. I wonder what’s up with that?

He paid his premium.

Sears Appliance Ad Leaves Us Out In The Cold.

What do you call a penguin walking in the desert? Lost. Which is how I felt when I read a full-page Sears appliance ad in the newspaper announcing, “YOU ARE THE REAL STARS.”

In the background were 25 photos of smiling families, accompanied by nine manufacturer logos and this message:

“Because of you, Sears is the 2010 ENERGY STAR Partner of the Year. To celebrate, we’re taking an extra 5% off all ENERGY STAR qualified appliances.”

Do you know what ENERGY STAR is?

Neither do I. Where did this award come from? Did Sears give it to itself? Is it some kind of annual retailer’s award?

Curiosity kills the cat, but not Harlequin Cat. After sniffing around, I discovered that ENERGY STAR is “the trusted, government-backed symbol for energy efficiency helping us all save money and protect the environment through energy-efficient products and practices.”

Impressive -- even more so when I learned that ENERGY STAR qualified refrigerators are 20% more energy-efficient than the minimum federal standard.

And just recently, 21 LG Electronics and Kenmore refrigerator models were delisted because they didn't meet ENERGY STAR standards.

Why didn’t Sears explain to readers why its award was relevant?

It would have meant more than the extra 5% discount.

Flower Power At Woofstock.

It wasn’t summertime, but last night’s Woofstock Gala was a love-in.

Hosted by the Animal Rescue Coalition (ARC), the Sarasota event attracted animal lovers in black tie and tie-dye.

Food. Flowers. Music. Auctions.

And adoptable puppies brought to each table – their sweet faces illuminated by candlelight.

Who needed Crystal Blue Persuasion? ARC's fundraiser was a success.

A great night for one reason. People in motion, people in motion.*

*Lyrics from "San Francisco (Be Sure To Wear Flowers In Your Hair)" for those of you who are 60s-challenged.

It's Valentine's And The Roses Are Ready.

If you Google 2010 Valentine’s Day promotions, you’ll see more sweetheart deals than you'll ever get from your real soulmate.

Whataburger is having some kind of “I Love Patty Melt” night (if Patty isn’t the name of your beloved, too bad).

Old Takoma Ace Hardware is advertising that “Nothing says love more than an organized closet.”

But of course. How could one forget?

And Fox Rent A Car is “giving away three rental cars free of charge” if you describe in 50 words or less how you "would use" one of its cars to make this Valentine’s Day the best experience ever for you and your partner.

But you have to post your whoopee on their blog.

Where everyone can read it.

Roses, anyone?

Good Marketing Should Blow You Away.

Harlequin Cat flew into the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo just in time to see a mess of hot Tornado Taters blow across the kitchen and slide down the cafe counter. For a second I thought they would meet the fate of Aunty Em’s farmhouse, but that’s what hot grease is for -- to keep everything glued together.

Shivering customers weren’t buying fries. They were buying delicately sliced Tornado Taters – hot crispy tubers that took the edge off a cold North Texas day. (Hold on; I'll get to the coconuts in a minute.)

Don’t ask me why, but food marketed as atmospheric phenomena always seems to taste better. Some menu items I’ve spotted on my astral flights:

Dairy Queen Blizzard

Pat O’Brien’s Hurricane

Stormy Day Bean Soup

Avalanche Bark

Outback’s Chocolate Thunder From Down Under

Volcanic Agave Nectar

Cucumber Mint Monsoon (my personal favorite)

Which reminds me of a trip I made a couple of years ago. I craved a funnel cake in the worst way and decided to fly up to Pennsylvania to find the perfect one. Lucky for me, a county fair was selling them with a scoop of coconut sorbet and candied coconut sprinkled on top.

The sign said “Funnel Cakes.”

I left a tip and a note in the jar suggesting a new name.

When I came back the next year, they had a new sign.

And a longer line.

The Coconut Funnel Clouds were selling like hotcakes.

40-Under-40 Galas Are Nice. But Who's Lining Up Chairs For 100-Under-100 Events?

Can you believe Harlequin Cat has been invited to NINE 40-under-40 leadership galas? And it’s not even February yet.

I just hope I don’t get invited to a 5-under-5 gala, although I bet the speeches would be short and sweet – maybe just a few words like “Thanks" or “I wanna go home.” Cupcake centerpieces would grace every table and everyone would marvel over the mac and cheese.

But back to my 40-under-40 invitations. They all pretty much read the same: “Meet business’s hottest young stars under 40. They’re value creators, dynamics leaders and agents of change.”

Recognition of these individuals inspires others, of course. It also builds readership for national business magazines and hundreds of local business journals (translation: advertising dollars).

Not knocking our future ­­­whatever-under-whatever leaders. But what happened to 60-under-60 invites? Or 70-under-70? Or do leadership skills fade at age 41?

Two years ago, the University of West Indies celebrated its 60^th anniversary by honoring 60-under-60 individuals who “support the competitiveness of our society, as well as the humanitarian dimension, to ensure that the care of the most vulnerable in our society, and in the world, are not ignored by the rich and powerful.”

Now that’s nice. Experience counts for something.

I’m thinking it’s time someone throws a 100-under-100 gala.

And I’m not talking about 100 items for $100 or less at Target.

I’m talking about a gala for value creators, dynamic leaders and agents of change.

Some Brand Pairings Make You Go Gaga.

Harlequin Cat was intrigued by Polaroid’s announcement that it has hired Lady Gaga as its creative director for a new product line coming out in late 2010.

After all, a pop superstar bringing instant cameras “into the future” is one of those brilliant ideas that makes you think, “Dang, that's so obvious! Why didn’t they think of that sooner?”

So I offer these other celebrity/brand pairings:

Taylor Swift: BONIVA (sorry, Sally Field)

Ellen DeGeneres: Caterpillar

Willie Nelson: Louis Vuitton

Donald Trump: Volkswagen

Jillan Michaels: Pizza Hut

Terry Bradshaw: Cover Girl

Tiger Woods: Not going there.

Harlequin Cat welcomes additions...

So Do Ya Think It'll Be Another Crappy Year?

Don’t mean to change the subject so drastically from my last blog entry, but last night I watched Fergie singing on Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, thinking I’d wake up and embrace the first day of 2010 in a glorious, fresh-start mood.

So much for good intentions. My morning paper says the stock market is as soft as a shriveled avocado and home foreclosures look as sticky as an upside-down pineapple cake.

Guess that makes the 5.8 million Americans who've been out of work for six months a giant congealed salad of sorts -- all cold and wobbly and plopped out on the street with a giant suction sound.

So moving on to our seagull gabfest:

“Think it'll be another crappy year?”

“Since when hasn’t it been? Suppose it depends on your perspective.”