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.