Audrina's Carl's Jr. ad not wholly off-putting

One of my biggest fears in life is that I will stain my gold lamé bikini with teriyaki sauce while eating a big fat burger on the beach. So, I'm really feelin' for Audrina Patridge (of The Hills fame) here. This latest Carl's Jr. spot is about as real as her popular "reality" show. But shockingly enough, I don't hate it. I appreciate that it's a somewhat more natural setup than having Paris Hilton hose down a luxury car while sucking and licking the burger on all fours (although she is the Einstein of that act). Plus, I was repelled by watching the smart and beauteous (and ex-Mrs. Salman Rushie) Padma Lakshmi indulge in similar sucking and licking, which I found kind of an icky, desperate sellout. Padma, we know you're sexy—you don't have to do this! (On the other hand, wouldn't Lakshmi be great in an ad for Kashi?) But back to Audrina, who more than holds her own while scarfing down the sloppy, fruit-infused meat sandwich. "To look this good in a bikini, I have to eat a lot of fruit," she says in the shorter, better version of the commercial. Then she delicately removes the pineapple ring from the top of the Hawaiian-style burger and pops it into her mouth. The tagline, perhaps an attempt at justifying all the sexism that proceeds it, is, "More than just a piece of meat." It's certainly a new way to stuff a wild bikini—but for mere mortals, you might want to place a napkin over your mid-section.

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Published on June 23, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (2)
Filed under Carl's Jr., Celebrity endorsements, Food and drink, Lippert, Restaurants

Oven Pride ad not sexist so much as idiotic

This Oven Pride spot has caused an uproar in the U.K. Set to nursery-school music, it features a husband learning a lesson in the kitchen as the announcer keeps repeating, "Oven Pride. So easy, even a man can do it!" Hey, sweet, I didn't realize we were bringing the '80s role-reversal thing back! In 1979, Kramer vs. Kramer showed that a father could learn how to make breakfast. Advertisers picked up on the trend big time, for two reasons: 1) They had finally sniffed out this thing called feminism; and 2) Somebody had to look stupid in order to learn a lesson in a commercial, so now it was the man. Hee hee! The trend is still happening, to some degree, as advertisers pander to women, but not with the aesthetic sledgehammer of this particular spot. I guess it's meant to be taken straight—it's too dumb to be ironic. But the bigger takeaway for me is how hard it is to use the product—and how little it helps. This big lug has to place heavy, greasy oven racks in big plastic bags, shake them, then remove them and wash them off. The main problem with washing oven racks is getting the things in and out of the oven. If you're going to have to rinse them off in the sink anyway, how much good does pre-rinsing them in giant bags do? Stupid product, stupid commercial. Now, honey, get me my breakfast, and make it snappy! You think these caribou slippers put themselves on?

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Published on June 2, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (8)
Filed under Controversy, Europe, House and home, Lippert

NOM airing first anti-gay-marriage ad in NY

This new ad from the National Organization for Marriage—its first TV spot opposing attempts to legalize same-sex marriage in New York—is a fairly typical cut-and-paste negative ad. Inveighing against same-sex marriage, it uses smiling-bride-and-groom wedding photos, images of kids piling out of yellow school buses and a somber message about the Death Star blowing up our planet should same-sex marriages occur (not really the last one, but it does use some classic scare tactics). One of the most skewered phrases in the spot (the quote is blown up for maximum horror and derision) is "a teachable moment." That's what the administrator of the Creative Arts charter school in San Francisco called it when some first graders were allowed to attend a same-sex wedding. Turns out the wedding was for their teacher, the trip was suggested by one of the parents in the class (the rest were free to opt out), and the kids were not at the ceremony but lined up outside the doors to throw flower petals on their teacher. Seems to me that's all kids that age want to do—throw flower petals at weddings—any and all weddings. All the kids seemed very excited about it. One of the students, 6-year-old Nolan Alexander, told a reporter that marriage is "two people falling in love. It means that you stay with someone for the rest of your life." Um, clearly that kid needs more education.

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Published on May 29, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (8)
Filed under Gay rights, Lippert, National Organization for Marriage, Political ads

Muppets sort out whether Santa has e-mail

Macy's might have staked its entire Christmas ad campaign around ''Yes, Virginia," the 19th-century newspaper editorial, now a holiday classic, that answered a young girl's question about the existence of Santa Claus. But it took the latest Muppets movie—A Muppets Christmas: Letters to Santa, airing Wednesday at 8 p.m. on NBC—to address the 21st-century corollary: Does the Clausman accept e-mail? The question comes up in the story line when we see Kermit, Fozzie Bear, etc., scrambling to deliver three letters from kids in time for Christmas. According to no less an authority than muppet Dr. Bunsen Honeydew (he's a bald, faceless guy in a white coat), Santa can't read e-mail because of interference in his neighborhood caused by the Aurora Borealis. Thus, the Muppets have no choice but to figure out how to set foot on the North Pole in person. All around, the movie is a great new addition to the Muppet genre, an updated vision for both grownups and kids—especially the part with Nathan Lane as ''Frank Meany," airport security agent. It's sweet without being cheesy or sentimental. So, keep those cards and letters coming, kids.

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Published on December 17, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0)
Filed under Holidays, Lippert, Muppets

Package from FedEx, though not absolutely

Here's an absolutely true, heartwarming story that shows that dreams do come true, despite the (allegedly just ended) New York City transit strike: On Wednesday, the second day of the strike, one of my closest friends, who usually takes a cab to work from her home in midtown to her job in the West Village, copped a ride in a group cab that somehow ended up depositing her at the FDR Drive and 14th Street. It was a part of town she never otherwise frequents, but close enough, she figured, considering the plight of many of her colleagues, out there trudging from Brooklyn in 20 degree weather. As she got out of the cab, she saw a package glinting in the light on the side of the road. Unopened and in pristine condition, it called out to her, she says. She picked it up to see if she could do a good deed, and read the packing label. It was addressed to Barbara Lippert at Adweek. She hand-delivered the package to me, and the rest, as they saw, is a Chrismakwanzakah miracle. Thanks for holiday blessings, FedEx!

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Credit: FedEx

Published on December 22, 2005 | Permalink | Comments (0)
Filed under Lippert

Don offers Donny a jacket as Larry King looks on

The deal is, apparently, that in order to get Larry King to come on your show, you have to let his wife, Shawn Southwick-King, sing. She's got a new CD to flog, and the pair have been making the media rounds, including The Big Idea with Donny Deutsch on Wednesday night. On each show, they go through the same schtick—how they met in TIffany's, how he grunted at her, how they got married while he was in the intensive care unit getting an angioplasty, etc. Then she actually has to sing, and it makes you nostalgic for Kathie Lee. Anyway, the mediameister—we mean Donny here—had a surprise for Shawn during her appearance. She opens for Don Rickles in Vegas, and yes, Donny happened to have Don on the line. And, of course, Don couldn't let the moment pass without picking up on how proud Donny is of his musculature (chestculature??). He said, "Donny, I never met you, but we're all chipping in to buy you a jacket."

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Credit: Photo Service/Newscom

Published on October 21, 2005 | Permalink | Comments (1)
Filed under Lippert

The voice of Verizon, now on Broadway

Irony of no irony department: We recently went to a preview of the new Broadway production of On Golden Pond, starring James Earl Jones in the Henry Fonda part, floppy hat and all. It’s a mostly African American cast (Leslie Uggams plays the Kate Hepburn role), and the casting twist is brilliant and greatly refreshes a ’70s-era play. (No matter what the critics say later in the week, the audience loved it, and gave it a standing O.) But here at the ’Freak, we thought the producers might make at least one concession to Mr. Jones’ ubiquitous sideline gig as Mr. Verizon. For example, the pre-curtain announcements about turning off all cell phones would seem to be a great time to make a little joke. Nuttin’. Then, in the opening act, Jones’ character, that old curmudgeon Norman, is on the phone (big old ’60s table model), hyperventilating at the operator about how phones don’t work and how he can never remember his number. (“Don’t you have it?!” he screams at the operator.) But the revolution in telecommunications culture, so ably and aggressively promoted in TV commercials featuring Mr. Jones, did invade at one point. In the heavy final scene, after the buildup of so much emotional and compelling psycho-drama, Norman is able to open up enough to tell his daughter that he loves her. Then he has what appears to be a heart attack and lies on the floor while his wife hovers around him, crying. By now, most of the audience is crying also. You guessed it—somewhere in the back row, a cell phone went off.

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Photo: Scott Suchman

Published on April 4, 2005 | Permalink | Comments (0)
Filed under Lippert

How to get your art displayed at the Met

Okay, my favorite new guy is "a shadowy British graffiti artist who calls himself "Banksy,'' as profiled in yesterday's New York Times. A fine artist whose work (like this unusual use of Mickey Mouse and Ronald McDonald at above) has been shown at major European galleries, he prefers to think of himself  as a "quality vandal" and focus on stunts, such as slipping into museums and affixing his work to their venerable walls. All it takes, he says, is "the judicious use of a fake beard and some high-strength glue." Which really gives one pause about high falutin' New York security.  Never mind: he hung a small portrait of a woman wearing a gas mask on one of the fancier walls at the Met, and graced the Museum of Natural History with a real, glass-encased beetle "equipped with fighter jet wings, missiles, and a satellite dish." I'm thinking the Cannes ad festival. I'm thinking getting some trick video snuck into the big final award show—which would make it even funnier than it (inadvertently) already is. For instance, there was one German agency guy last year who kept shouting about work that was "breast-taking. It takes my breast-away."  And just imagine what he'd say if had fighter jet wings, missiles and a satellite dish!

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Published on March 25, 2005 | Permalink | Comments (1)
Filed under Lippert

Requiem for a Dan

Now that we no longer have Dan Rather to kick around, I’m beginning to feel a little wistful about his exit. He took a massive pounding from the media fraternity in his final week, and some of the piling on was excessive. (Even Grandpa Walter got his licks in.) Certainly, with his odd monomania, Rather is a poignant figure, like Martha Stewart. As with Martha however, almost anything you can point to about his weirdness is hilarious: His unique phraseology that emerged on election nights could provide an entire book of freakish analogies (my personal fave happened to be, “The race is humming along like Ray Charles”). Then there was the “Gunga Dan” episode, from the U.S.’s earlier foray into Afghanistan, when Rather was captured on film stealing across the border, barefoot, under the shadow of a burnoose. But when it comes to the “What’s the frequency, Kenneth?” bashing, the advantage goes to Rather. It turns out that the guy who roughed him up in a lobby on Park Avenue was the same guy who years later shot and killed a technician outside the Today show, while gunning for Katie Couric. And yes, Memogate was handled disastrously by Dan, his staff and CBS management, and never should have happened. But the guts of the story were accurate. He probably deserved better. What’s more, I don’t see any great improvement in vision a-comin’ for CBS. Not only will they not go for the slick hipster audience by hiring a Jon Stewart type (and their version would be pathetic, anyway), but I predict Bob Schieffer will remain in the seat for at least the next 10 years. Odds, anyone?

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Photo: CBS

Published on March 15, 2005 | Permalink | Comments (2)
Filed under Lippert

I’m a hipster, baby

We know synergy is just a regular part of marketing life, so while we were somewhat disappointed to hear that Beck (“I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?”) is breaking five new songs from his upcoming album, Guero (which hits stores on March 29), during this Thursday’s episode (nay, “Beckisode”) of Fox’s The O.C., we also understood. The music biz is tough; while not exactly focusing on sensitive artist types, the gold-plated soap opera is at least known for making music an essential, and intelligent, part of the show. The gilded, sun-dappled O.C. actors are also sometimes seen watching actual new bands perform at the “Bait Shack” (a case of art imitating fantasy life).

But here’s what we didn’t prepare for: the second part of this souped-up synergy killer. That same March 10 installment will also include “the exclusive worldwide premiere” of the Star Wars: Episode III—Revenge of the Sith trailer during a commercial break. So wait a minute—do the Beck and Star Wars audiences actually intersect? And we thought that Christmakkah was painful.

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Photo: Shugerman/Getty/Newscom

Published on March 8, 2005 | Permalink | Comments (4)
Filed under Lippert

How to make money from online scam artists

Ever get one of those "Excellent Opportunity!!!!" emails from an alleged Nigerian government official offering millions of bucks?

Me neither, actually. But last year, Rich Siegel, then a group creative director at Young & Rubicam Brands, decided, as the saying goes, to follow the money (and he even left Y&R to do so).

The result is Tuesdays with Mantu, a Borders book (available on Amazon.com), that cannily reprints (along with all the amazingly formal yet bogus documentation) Siegel’s actual (hilarious, insane, and at times, cruel) seven month-long e-mail relationship with one Mr. Ibrahim Mantu. Of course, the man deserves all he gets for offering more than $10 million (from a previous military regime) to Siegel, no strings attached. All Siegel had to do was assist in the transfer of the funds to the United States.

Determined to turn the tables on these Internet crooks, Siegel set up a fake e-mail account in the name of Richard Gosinya, and in the course of the exchange, heard not only from Mantu (a doctor/CPA/petroleum executive who aspires to elected office) but also from one Tajudeen Datti, who has a thing for Celine Dion, Barrister Thankgod Emeka Eze, and the lovelorn Mariam Abacha (widow of distinguished African General Sani Abacha.) It’s all in the book, which reads like a cross between Monty Python and the letters of Don Novello, Nigerian pidgin English version.

And by the ending, lest you think Siegel gets kind of vitriolic, the author is generously offering half of all book royalties to his Web of Nigerian email pals. All they need to do is apply for an American visa and meet him at 419 Tinkerbell Lane, Fantasyland, Disneyworld, USA.

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Published on February 28, 2005 | Permalink | Comments (8)
Filed under Lippert

Your world, presented commercial-free

The very manly-male writer Norman Mailer has, among other things, run for Mayor of New York City, and (allegedly) knifed one of his wives. (He’s had several.) But these days, he might be offering us his oddest transformation, to which I respond, who asked Norman Mailer to turn into Norman Rockwell?

In a cover story for Sunday’s Parade Magazine, contributing editor Mailer responds to the question, "If you could do one thing to change America for the better, what would it be?" (A link to the cover is here; the full story won't go online until Jan. 31st.)

Several answers jumped to my mind, like: feed and house the Homeless! Provide daycare for working moms and moms who want to get GEDs! And ooh, I’m just beginning!

Here’s Mailer’s response: get rid of TV commercials. Why? Because they disrupt people’s ability to concentrate, a skill which Mailer says is “itself … a species of psychic strength.”

Indeed, buttressing the argument is that the number of foreign students coming here to take PhDs in science, technology, engineering and mathematics is growing "four times faster than domestic students." (It’s gotta be the commercials!) He continues, "If we want to have the best of all possible worlds, we had better realize that we can not have all the worlds, I believe that television commercials have to go." And later adds, "the constant interruption of concentration [TV advertising] generates not only dominates much of our lives, but over the long run is bound to bleed into our prosperity."

Et tu Normie? This from a guy who wrote Advertisements for Myself?

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Published on January 25, 2005 | Permalink | Comments (0)
Filed under Lippert

Ernest not in earnest

I always wondered how the producers of The Daily Show —or Ali G—get people to go on camera, because anyone who has ever watched those shows knows the interviewees end up looking like total morons, or if not morons, sad chumps.

So when I saw none other than sophisticated media guy Ernest Lupinacci (who wrote William Shatner into Priceline commercials—talk about putting the dead in deadpan) seem to fall hook, line and sinker for an interview segment on The Daily Show, I kinda felt sorry for him.

He came off as your average, decidedly non-Mensa level, oblivious slickster ad guy (and proud of it!), but it did make for some fine entertainment. (To see it yourself, click here, then scroll down to Glossing Over Evil.)

In a piece by investigative correspondent Bob Wiltfong titled, So You Wanna Gloss Over That Your Corporation or State Entity is Evil, Lupinacci is identified as someone who “has helped many companies get out of jams.”  He was asked, hypothetically, how he'd help Enron improve the public's perception that it has stolen retirement money from little old ladies, who are now forced to go without heat.

“Okay, the message is let the bitch freeze, we're taking her money!" Ernest responded, earnestly, in full sound bite m.o. "Well, that comes across as rather provocative, rather aggressive, so we might suggest to push back—soften it a little."

Later he suggested coming up with "a jingle—a well-known, well-liked song, that could deliver a different message." With a dream setup like that, The Daily Show writers concocted their own commercial, which was then shown—with the musical tag line, "Enron-- Freezing bitches since '85!''

But wait, there's more! (humiliation!). Lupinacci, identified as the founder of Anomaly, was questioned about his roster of clients. He responded that he was not in the position to say, so Bob the crack interviewer shot back with, "Okay, I'll say the name, and you just blink ... blink once if it's yes, twice if it's no.'' Whether through editing or playing along, Lupinacci actually stared the guy down, like in Clockwork Orange, making a Herculean effort not to blink, as the interviewer threw out "Coke.''  Bob stared back at Ernest, and after several agonizing seconds of Lupinacci keeping his eyes bolted open, the interviewer leaned forward and screamed "You blinked!''

Meanwhile, I sat there, unblinking, wondering how this could happen to a guy like Ernest. Well, folks, it turns out WE WAS PUNK’D!:  say it ain't so, but it's a made-up show with made-up interviews, and Ernest played along. “The way they explain it is ‘pretend we're from CNN, so no matter what we ask you, you respond like it's a legitimate question,'" he told AdFreak from his Tribeca office. "It' s like in the movie Stand By Me, when the kids are having a serious discussion about who's tougher, Superman or Mighty Mouse. You don't want to be the guy who says, 'well, they're in different media, and one's an animation.'" You've got leap over the absurdity to go to the next level.''

In fact, he said throughout, he was giving the crew ideas about how to make it funnier. (He suggested the song for Enron's spot to be "It's a bitch girl, but you've gone too far ... you can rely on the old man's money, you can rely on the old man's money.")

The segment elicited howls of laughter from the studio audience (and presumably, the millions watching at home.) But Ernest also had the last laugh: "When he asked about my clients we had actually gotten [Coke’s] Dasani the day before, but I couldn't tell anyone."

We blinked!

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Published on December 17, 2004 | Permalink | Comments (0)
Filed under Lippert

My night with Pat

When MSNBC called the other day to find an “expert” to appear on Monday’s Scarborough Country and talk about the usual—“Sex in advertising: HAS IT GONE TOO FAR?”—of course I said yes. When it comes to TV appearances, everyone at AdFreak is very easy—isn’t that how Donny Deutsch got started? Plus, I was intrigued by the guest host—one-time presidential contender and McLaughlin Group regular Pat Buchanan. Pat looked a bit different in the studio than he does while occupying the seat across from Eleanor Clift on McLaughlin: His hair seemed more orange under the MSNBC lights, and he wore some trendy, small metal specs to help with the heavy teleprompter reading. Even though I knew his politics to be slightly to the right of (well, let’s not go there), I found Pat kind of sweet, actually.

The trouble began, however, when the producers dragged out the 2-year-old Miller Beer cement wrestler spot as proof of the end of civilization. Little did I know that in the course of being one of four shrieking, overly made-up harridans Brady-bunched on the screen (two liberal and two conservative, none being Ann Coulter), I’d be boxed into doing a verbal form of cement wrestling, sans implants.

As bad as that was, the oddest moment came at the end, when the producers made Pat introduce an item about a sex column that had appeared that day in New York magazine—an issue facing the nation, no doubt, about married men who had “naked fingers”—i.e., who refuse to wear wedding rings so they can more readily bed down chicks. Pat foamed at the mouth about these “idiot” women who allow their husbands to do this; later on, he admitted that though he’s been married for 35 years, he himself has never worn a wedding ring, because “I don’t like jewelry” and “it gets in the way of typing.”

“That’s exactly the excuse the men in the piece gave for not wearing a wedding band, Pat,” I felt it was my moral duty to point out. “Maybe you should have a conversation with your wife.”

Pat laughed, and moved on to the next segment—about why the world has gotten so de-Christianized. Tastes great! Less filling!

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Published on December 9, 2004 | Permalink | Comments (0)
Filed under Lippert

Help! Desk!

Not that I watch or anything, but on Tuesday’s Amazing Race, the contestants, while charging around Sweden, had to look for “The World’s Largest I-kee-ay store!”—as the male half of the couple referred to as the "married pro wrestlers" put it.

Once inside the giant empty barn, they had to choose between tasks so awful that it made all my worst nightmares come alive: They either had to count pots (2,034 of ’em) or ASSEMBLE A DESK! A desk with a flimsy hutch and two crappy drawers! The genius of Ikea stuff is how it looks once you’ve schlepped it home, incorporated it in your kids’ room or den along with some real furniture, and paid exorbitant amounts to get it assembled so as not to end your marriage. So talk about the world’s worst product placement: Why not give insanely stressed couples a taste of Swedish do-it-yourself hell?

Just seeing the narrow (but several-ton) cardboard box requiring a penknife to split open sent shivers up my spine. And the poor Grandpa and Grandma team couldn’t count the pots for the life of ’em and then had to start over and try assembling the desk!

The winners of the challenge, who, after leaving I-kee-ay, had to pedal a bicycle built for two for miles to a farmer’s field and then find tickets in a haystack, won a seven-night Royal Caribbean Cruise to Mexico. (That must have been all joy compared to—aaaargh!—putting together the particleboard monster with the help of ahem, “international”-style directions.)

As for the losers? Well, anything beats another night assembling shit at Ikea.

—Posted by Barbara Lippert

Published on December 2, 2004 | Permalink | Comments (1)
Filed under Lippert

Smells like Baz Luhrmann

Doomed lovers. An impoverished writer who lives in a garret with a neon sign flashing outside through the night. A star who must go back to her earlier life. It’s the story of über-theatrical director Baz Luhrmann’s movie musical, Moulin Rouge, oui. But amazingly enough, it’s also the beyond-belief hokey/corny/cliché narrative of a gazillion dollar (actually, $60 million) Chanel commercial, which reunites the director with his favorite actress, Nicole Kidman.

The courtesan in Moulin, Kidman plays the, uh, movie star here, and reportedly got $12 million for her work alone in the really, really long commercial—I mean, two-minute film (which aired as an advertising stunt on ER last week). Sure, Nicole is gorgeous, and the writer in the garret is Rodrigo Santoro, the impossibly handsome Brazilian actor from Love Actually. But the dialogue is a problem: It’s only slightly less wooden than Kidman’s moves. “When did I wake into this dream?” the penniless one muses, with maudlin piano music building in the backround. “I must have been the only one in the world who didn’t know who she was.” He’s also the only broke New York bohemian artiste whose garret—in the middle of a stylized Times Square—would be worth about $2.4 million; it’s got enough outdoor space that instead of pounding on his Underwood, the guy whiles away his time sitting on the bottom of the intertwined C’s of the Chanel logo outside his window, a sort of couture version of the bat signal.

One day he’s in a cab, and next thing you know, “the most famous actress in the world” hops in, wearing a gown with a billowing train of ostrich feathers. (Hey, it could happen.) She decides on the spur of the moment to run away with this guy, because he’s obviously smart—he’s wearing black glasses. She heads to his boho garret, where she removes the feathers, in a Judy Garland type abbreviated outfit that shows the fabulous gams, and jumps out at him, announcing, “I’m a dancer! I love to dance!”—a moment so catastrophically embarrassing that you want to shield your eyes. There are some subtle reminders that this is a romance—fireworks go off in the backround, and then there’s the pounding, swelling music, which reaches a crescendo when they embrace. He bends her backwards to kiss her, and it’s an Eyes Wide Shut level of non-chemistry.

Then the evil man (in Moulin Rouge it was the pimp; here it’s her agent) appears in the hide-away. “You must be there!” the meanie says. “I don’t care about tomorrow!” she responds—a strange counterpoint to Scarlett O’Hara’s leaving everything to tomorrow. “It’s beautiful here,” she says. “Everything seems so peaceful!”—which is also slightly improbable, since she’s referring to the writer’s lair at the top of a building in the middle of the busiest city in the world. 

“And then she was gone,” the lover says. “My world would never be the same.” (Clunk!) All he has is her memory, “her kiss, her smile, her perfume,” he says. But we have her back—and this is a truly beautiful shot—Kidman wears 687 diamonds in the form of a Chanel logo pendant.

The film does get points for being over the top and visually exultant. The most ironic part is that it actually has less product placement than an actual “film,” which is admirable. And it’s big. It’s really big. If only, like smell, it were silent.

--Posted by Barbara Lippert

Published on November 14, 2004 | Permalink | Comments (0)
Filed under Lippert