Royalty Is Where You Find It.

Mention the word “copycat,” and HQ’s ears prick, especially when the subject is about finding royal couple lookalikes.

The Associated Press reports that model agencies are looking for young adults who can double as Prince William and future princess Kate Bevan. Appears the couple’s upcoming nuptials have spiked a demand for their body doubles to appear at special events, either together or with other fake, royal-family members.

Copy-Kates have been relatively easy to find. But it’s the search for a proper fake William that has agencies in a royal tizzy. Not only do very few young men have William's “chubby cheeks, toothy grin and thinning hair,” but they also don’t have his elusive royal quality.

An acting coach explains that William’s lifetime of privilege is difficult to mimic. “It’s more of an aura. It’s a product of 28 years of his upbringing.”

Adds an agency manager, “This sounds terrible to say, but perhaps it’s all about good breeding.”

Good breeding, indeed. What a noble viewpoint.

Perhaps the manager's notion of how a prince should carry himself is based on a childhood Cinderella book. How does she let a hopeful William-lookalike down easy? Does she send him to the lab for a blue blood test, knowing he won’t pass? Does she remind him that breeding is a way to produce offspring in a controlled and organized way, and that she doesn’t want to waste time barking up the wrong family tree?

There’s that mind's-eye, perception-is-reality thing again, and we all know that reality is where you find it.

But so is royalty -- even in a Tropaeolum majus.

Sex, Religion, Politics And Tequila.

For starters, the bar customers weren’t interested in polite conversation. They were slinging shots, verbal and liquid, and no one was ducking.

It all started when a woman who looked like she drank a pint of vodka a day said “tequila is tequila.”

Before you could say Pope Benedict, the conversation switched from Palin to Patrón.

It wasn’t pretty. Voices rose.

“You don’t know the soul of a real margarita.”

“You wouldn’t know agave from Mondavi.”

"I’ve got your Sauza right here.”

Suddenly, nine relatively quiet people and one bartender turned into 10 self-anointed brand experts. This is what liquor makers live for. It’s why they spend millions trying to integrate their brand benefits into our emotional matrixes. Despite their efforts, millions of consumers will remain brand renegades (tequila is tequila). But millions more embrace brands because they say something about themselves.

Next time you’re at a bar, ask for Caliber Premium Tequila. If you get a blank look, mention it’s sold at Wal-mart in plastic bottles.

Or, ask for Cuervo Reserva Antigua 1800 Añejo and watch strangers size you up and possibly decide you’re someone they want to hang out with.

The language of emotion is what companies should really be listening to when examining their brands. Products aren’t important. Stories are.

“No way, man. You’re confusing Jose Cuervo with Don Julio!”

We’ll save the salt and lime debate for another day.

Seagulls Not Born To Be Wide Receivers.

Turtle Beach, Dec. 31, 2010. Two teenagers are “playing football” with seagulls. They throw rocks and shells up into the air. Gulls dive. Boys laugh. Fun to fool birds who think shells are pieces of bread.

Fun to then hit them with football.

Harlequin Cat wishes for a kinder new year.