Thanks to the diligence of Palingates, I’m now aware of The Candie’s Foundation, the organization that hired Bristol Palin as a poster girl for teenage abstinence.

If there’s not enough hypocrisy in Bristol Palin telling teenagers not to have sex, The Candie’s Foundation is the work of Candie’s CEO Neil Cole, who wants to cover all bases. While his company flogs trampy high heels to young girls, his foundation reminds them via tight tank-tops ($15) to “BE SEXY: It doesn’t mean you have to have sex.”

Hahaha! Is everybody crazy now?!? Is there a way to apply the fox in the hen-house to this situation? If not, can any sane parent condone these idiotic t-shirts for their poor jail-bait daughter?

Bristol, the jig is up! You got knocked up! Go home and take care of that sedated baby of yours.

Neil, you stupid whoremongering Capitalist Pig, just sell your crappy shoes and drool over teenage poontang with that fucker from American Apparel, without bothering the rest of us.

Teenage Girls, stop giving blowjobs beind the cafeteria unless HE DOES YOU FIRST.

I am really, really mad.

Cat Dancers is the name of a documentary now playing on HBO. It’s also the name of a show biz act consisting of Ron and Joy Holiday and their younger partner, Chuck Lizza. The three of them trained and worked with wild tigers in their act, which pre-dated Seigfried and Roy.

It is a mesmerizing documentary that challenges all sorts of assumptions. The director creates a bittersweet, surreal atmosphere as Ron recalls the excitement of his years on stage with his beloved wife and their exotic pets. When they meet Chuck, a lost young man who ran away to join the circus, he becomes their favorite pet, in a sense. Chuck becomes their lover, forming a romantic triangle that lasted harmoniously for 14 years.

In some respects, Cat Dancers recalls Grizzly Man in its portrait of well-meaning humans who refuse to believe in the boundary between them and the wild animals they love so deeply.

It’s a tragic story that lingers with you like a strange and vivid dream. I’m glad I saw it; It felt like a trip to Mars… a hallmark of a great documentary.

Still under the spell of Cat Dancers, I heard from my friend Romeo that he’d been on a wild pig hunt while visiting his family in Texas. I think it’s okay to kill a wild pig, but I’m not sure if the pig thinks so. Probably not, I’m guessing. Romeo’s email message brought forth a bunch of ads for Wild Boar Hunting. I clicked on one, a big mistake if you’re not turned on by images of fat guys grinning next to huge dead boars.

Then, I was intrigued by an ad for “ethical trophy hunting” in Namibia and Mozambique. Here, you can plan your “safari” where you are guaranteed to get the “trophies” (i.e. dead animals) you want, but by “fair chase only!”

Here is some bastard with his Ethical Trophy!

If Romeo wants a dead pig, by god he deserves it. He just got through a stint in the US Military Forces, protecting us from terrorists. That guy in the photo above, though, is not worth fighting for. Fuck that punk. It’s almost, but not quite, enough to put me off wearing fur.