People who write kids' shows are weird. Who's like, "This is a thought a child would enjoy"?

This has been "One Man's Take, by Taylor Berman," a recurring showcase of opinion writing. Previously: Holidays. Corn. Websites. New sports. The moon. True Detective. Fear. Perfume. Nuggets. Kanye West. Education. Chefs. Flip-flops.

[Illustration by Jim Cooke]

Ladies, meet Mike Holpin, a 56-year-old unemployed alcoholic from Ebbw Vale, Wales, who doesn't believe in contraception, loves sex, and owns a PlayStation. Have your panties dropped yet? Cool, then you have something in common with the estimated 20 different women with whom he has sired around 40 children (he's not sure about the exact numbers—who can never be sure, right?). He hasn't been much of a hands-on dad over the years, and many of his children were taken into the UK's care system as a result. How wet are you? Be honest.

Fellas, would you like to be the dad of multiple children with multiple mothers? It's easy! As Holpin, a former carny, explained on the special 40 Kids with 20 Women, which aired on UK TV this week, "Good-lookin' boys are better, but funny boys: spectacular. Me, I just tell 'em I want sex. 'Fancy a rub?' If they say, 'Fuck off,' then they're not really up for it." You know what to do: Get to rammin'.

The show chronicled Holpin's interaction with some of his estranged children. Here he is reminiscing with 23-year-old Mike Jr. about how he used his kid to pick up women and presumably make more kids ("Nothing nicer than a single fellow with a little baby").

Some fatherly advice from Mike to Mike: "Doggy style if she's ugly, innit?" As they say in the UK: this charming man!

Holpin also met up with his son Luke and the two of them had very different interpretations about how it went as well as the future of their relationship:

At the end of the show, Holpin announced that his baby-making days are far from over. "In the Bible, God says, 'Go forth and multiply,' so I do what God wants!" The world is his oyster, and it has yet to clamp shut, amputating his dick in the process.

But it really should.

Deadspin Former Bucs GM: We Spied On Justin Blackmon's Favorite Bar For A Week | Gizmodo I Toned My Weak Vagina With This Little Blue Blob | io9 12 New Science Fiction Comics You Absolutely Need To Be Reading | Lifehacker Things You Should Never Say to Women Working in Tech or Science | Kinja Popular Posts

Sometimes it's nice to see an old acquaintance doing well, and sometimes it's upsetting and you're thinking, I hope she loses all her hair, but then you realize people will think you're mean, so you smile and say, Oh, I'm so thrilled for her. Paris Hilton definitely did one of these things recently.

Paris Hilton's still enough of a name to get interviews, but the questions inevitably turn to her famous, pretty friend Kim Kardashian, who—moderately well-known fact—once upon a time worked as Hilton's assistant.

"We've known each other since we were little girls, we've always been friends," Paris Hilton, who once used to pay Kim Kardashian to organize her closet, said in a recent interview.

"It's nice to inspire people, so yeah, I'm really proud of her and what she's done though," said Paris Hilton—who was once famous, even more famous than Kim and Kourt and Khloe combined!

"“I feel like I was basically born a brand, being born into the Hilton Hotel family, but I wanted to be my own brand," Paris Hilton—who came first, mind you, long before Kim and Kourtney Take Miami was even the twinkle of a dollar sign in Kris Jenner's eye—concludes.

"The Simple Life was basically one of the first reality shows," Paris Hilton whispers into the night while an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians plays on a mute loop.

“Nothing gets past me,” she says bravely. “I feel like I’ve turned out amazing and I’m proud of how I am.”

fuk all u who think Kimmy K didn't work hard to get where she is pic.twitter.com/mOVSvgvDb2

— lucy dayman (@lucemorals) March 6, 2015

[image via Getty]

Contact the author of this post at gabrielle@gawker.com

Ever royally fuck something up at your job? Ever royally fuck something up at your job on television?

Tonight we say a prayer for poor Manuela Arbelaez, a six-year veteran of the show whose chagrined realization that she royally messed up is the kind of punishment even a sterner sort of parent might recognize and accept as punishment enough.

Contact the author of this post at gabrielle@gawker.com

Earlier today, Bowling Green State University fired head basketball coach Chris Jans because of an incident that occurred at a local bar. Now, thanks to documents obtained from the university via an open records request, we know exactly why Jans was fired. According to witnesses, he sexually harassed several women while drunk in a bar, slapping one on the butt, pushing another’s head toward his crotch, and calling another a “bitch.”

The video above was sent to the university by a witness. That’s Jans slapping a woman on the butt. The person who shot the video also provided a description of the rest of Jans’s behavior to Bowling Green athletics director Christopher Kingston. ([Sic] throughout):

Mr. Kingston,

My family and I were in downtown Bowling Green 3/21/15 at an establishment that is frequented by the Basketball coaches. While we were enjoying each others company we noticed on several occasions Chris Jans making what seemed to be advances towards several women. On one occasion he grabbed a woman’s head and pushed it downwards toward his crotch. A Single guy, drunk, we can possibly overlook, but certainly inappropriate for a Head Coach representing my university and most definitely not a married man with two children. I am certain she would not appreciate his behavior. As the night continued, we had hoped that the behavior was a fluke or a joke amongst friends ad we continued enjoying each others company until he made advances toward another female, petter her backside and proceeded to as/tell her to walk in front of him so that he could evaluate her assets. This was directly in front of our table and in front of my daughter who is a college athlete visiting her brother who attends BGSU on his birthday. She had witnessed the Coach throughout the evening, was disappointed and disgusted enough to actually confront him and tell him his behavior was not becoming of a head coach and she would be embarrassed if it were her coach. He denied being the coach and then after she continued he responded “ok”. She sat back with our table and we continued conversation hoping he would be mature enough to leave we enough alone, however minutes later he exclaimed loud enough to be heard over the loud music “bitch, com here.” Unfortunately, I was forced to confront him, however he was quickly covered by assistant coaches and staff. We left the establishment without further confrontation, but clearly he was sloppy drunk and not fitting of BGSU representation. I am emailing you to let you deal with this matter as you feel fit, however if need I have a video of him from the evening touching a woman’s backside validating our statements, and further video showing the melee’ that ensued after he called my daughter a “bitch”. We hope there will be no need have to divulge this video to social media for the sake of the university, but from our understanding from other patrons we have spoken to, this behavior has been consistent at this establishment. We expect you handle this matter in a fitting way that will ensure this behavior is never repeated.

I look forward to hearing how this will be addressed.

Sincerely

[Redacted]

The full email exchange between the witness and the school is embedded below, as is the university’s letter to Jans, notifying him that he’d been fired. It may tell you something about their eagerness to have what happened here explained, by the way, that Bowling Green responded to our open records request with unusual speed—less than three hours after asking for these materials, we had them.

Two teenage sons of a Canadian diplomat allegedly walked into a drug deal in Miami on Monday. But only one walked out, and now he's facing murder charges.

Miami police say 15-year-old Marc Wabafiyebazu and 17-year-old Jean Wabafiyebazu—sons of diplomat Roxanne Dubé—drove their mother's BMW with diplomatic plates to a drug dealer's home, where they got into a dispute over about $5,000 worth of marijuana.

Reports the Miami Herald:

Police believe Marc Wabafiyebazu and his 17-year-old brother Jean Wabafiyebazu — both armed with guns — planned to rob the drug dealers on Monday afternoon at a home in the Coral Way area.

In the gunfire, Jean was shot and killed inside the home. One of the suspected drug dealers, Joshua Wright, was also killed. A third man, Anthony Rodriguez, was wounded and drove off. He was later found at a nearby gas station.

“That’s what we believe, it was a a dispute over a drug transaction,” Miami Police Chief Rodolfo Llanes told the Miami Herald.

Marc is facing felony murder charges plus additional charges for threatening to shoot the arresting officer. [Diplomatic immunity generally applies only to the diplomat.]

Dubé was reportedly named Consul General in Miami in November. Her husband, Germano Wabafiyebazu, tells reporters Marc only fired his gun to "alert police."

[images via CBC]

Contact the author at gabrielle@gawker.com.

A teen girl in Yavapai County, Arizona was driving her friends home from a day of activities when she took a turn too fast, toppling off a cliff one hundred feet below, and getting trapped beneath her car. She was trapped for four hours but somehow, miraculously, survived with only minor injuries.

The young woman was driving her two friends home, KPHO reports, when the driver took a turn too quickly, careening off a cliff. Her two friends were able to make it free from the accident within an hour, but the driver was trapped beneath the vehicle for four hours. Via KPHO:

"I just remember we had gone really fast around this corner and the car started to lean over, and we all kind of had that moment of, 'Oh crap, this is going to happen,' and then the car just started rolling," said Danielle Goldberg, who was a passenger in the car.

Reporter Greg Argos spoke with Goldberg and Viven Cantrell, the other passenger. The two Coconino High School juniors said their friend Holly was driving. The three had just left an afternoon of swimming at Fossil Creek and were trying to make it home before curfew.

The 16-year-old was able to survive the accident because the car landed on her at exactly the right angle, one where the depressed hood of the car protected her from being totally crushed.

The driver of the car was airlifted to a Flagstaff Medical Center, while her two friends survived with minor injuries, police said. According to a NY Daily News report, alcohol and drugs have been ruled out.

Image via Pine-Strawberry Fire Department. H/T NY Daily News. Contact the author at dayna.evans@gawker.com.

Pope Francis prostrates himself before the altar on Good Friday.

Arkansas senator Tom Cotton ignited a firestorm yesterday when he said on CNN that gays who were complaining about anti-gay legislation in Indiana and Arkansas should shut up because, hey, at least they weren't being killed like in Iran. So how come nobody in Arkansas believes he's straight?

Cotton—who has been called a "conservative superstar" by the Atlantic and "the perfect Republican" by Jonathan Chait—has increasingly wedged himself into the national conversation in just his first few months in the Senate. Last month, he spearheaded a letter from the Republican caucus to the leaders of Iran regarding a planned (and ultimately consummated) nuclear arms deal. The letter, which attempted to dissuade Iran from negotiating with Barack Obama, proved to be an immediate disaster for Republicans, but it did achieve at least one intended goal, which was inflating Cotton's national profile. He has been featured twice in the New York Times in the last four weeks, once in March and most recently this weekend in a magazine interview in which he admits to indulging in birthday cake nearly every single day.

Still, his comments about Indiana's Religious Freedom Restoration Act have drawn a particular ire—with good reason, considering that Cotton essentially argued that gays should feel happy that they are not being executed in public. Miley Cyrus, for instance, tweeted Cotton's office phone number to her 19.4 million followers, almost immediately filling up his voicemail inbox. But not only were his comments egregiously gross, they were also especially curious, because if you talk to just about anyone in Arkansas political circles—as well as average citizens in his hometown of Dardanelle—you'll hear about a persistent rumor that Tom Cotton, a budding face of the GOP and outspoken opponent of homosexuality, is gay.

We first heard about the rumor in September, when a tipster emailed us saying that a story regarding Cotton's sexuality was being passed around Democratic political circles in Arkansas. We spoke, off the record, with several local Democrats—including a high-ranking party official—who would say little about the rumor that Cotton is gay beyond swearing that it existed and was real. Later in the year, Democratic operatives in Washington sent us a photo purporting to be of Cotton at a gay bar in D.C., but despite being picked up by at least one blog, the photo didn't check out.

Through a spokesperson, Cotton declined to comment.

So, is Cotton merely the victim of a whisper campaign engineered by Democrats in his state? That is certainly possible. If you look at the 262 followers of a (frankly homophobic) Cotton parody account called @CottonCandyAR that imagines Cotton as a sort of crossdresser, you'll see several local liberal activists, as well as a few official campaign accounts including that of Mark Pryor, the incumbent senator whom Cotton defeated in November.

Nonetheless, political operatives are far from the only people in Arkansas spreading, or acknowledging, the rumor that Cotton is gay. We spoke to a well-connected local source who has heard whispers about Cotton's sexuality dating back years. We spoke to several of Cotton's high school classmates who said that although there were not suspicions about Cotton when he was in school, they have since heard the rumor that he is gay.

"I never seen tom with a girl or talk about one. rumor was he was gay but no proof ever found," said one woman via Facebook who attended Dardanelle High with Cotton.

There is, if you look in the right places, scattered chatter about Cotton's sexuality on the internet. There is a whole thread on the gay gossip site Datalounge. In 2012, the daughter of an Arkansas state senator was forced to apologize after tweeting that Cotton is gay, and a few months ago the story of his sexuality was picked up by none other than infamous rumormonger Chuck C. Johnson. It's probably no coincidence that Cotton was the first Republican pranked with fake campaign ads on Grindr.

If you look at articles reporting Cotton's recent marriage to his wife Anna, you'll notice anonymous commenters calling the whole thing a sham.

"Beard," says one matter-of-fact comment on an Arkansas Times story about Cotton's marriage. "He had to do something to counter those anti women rants he had during his college years,"a commenter named BUD says on a local news story announcing Cotton's marriage. "And to counter that nagging gay thing."

Cotton's marriage is a particular bug-a-boo amongst certain citizens of Arkansas. Cotton and Anna Peckham announced their marriage abruptly in March of last year, and his office was so unusually evasive about the details that the Arkansas Times wrote that entire article about it. To people in Arkansas who are perhaps already skeptical of Cotton as a politician, the marriage seemed sudden and suspicious, as if Cotton was working to complete a checklist as quickly as possible. The announcement of Anna's pregnancy just seven months after their marriage certainly hasn't helped matters.

"He only got married so people would think he's not gay," said the same high school classmate. "You can tell by the way he walks and talks." Another high school classmate of his told us via Facebook, "I can say that I've not ever seen him with a girlfriend, until he recently got married."

Maybe Cotton is gay or bisexual; maybe he isn't. He might just be an attractive, longtime single, and slightly effeminate Southern man who married a Yankee out of nowhere, thus raising alarm bells among his constituents. The rumors about his sexuality never reached a point in this last election where he, or anyone from his campaign, had to address them. But they're likely a preview of what Cotton is going to have to deal with as he ascends up the Republican party, perhaps even up to the Oval Office, provided he doesn't derail his career first.

As one source said to us some months ago about the rumors of Cotton's sexuality: "This isn't going away."

If you have heard any stories about Tom Cotton, leave a comment below or email us tips@gawker.com or me directly at jordan@gawker.com

[photo by AP]

Keeping abreast of the latest movements in America's class war: the rich are still winning.

According to the latest Bureau of Labor Statistics figures, for the year from June 2013-June 2014, every single segment of American workers saw its income decline compared to the year before—except for the top 20% of earners.

The bottom 20% of earners saw their income decline 3.5%
The second 20% of earners saw their income decline 2.7%
The third 20% of earners saw their income decline 2.8%
The fourth 20% of earners saw their income decline 2.1%
The top 20% of earners saw their income rise by almost 1%.

The BLS does not break out statistics more finely, but it is a safe bet that a large portion of the gains of the top 20% of earners were driven by disproportionate gains for the top 10%, and the top 5%, and the top 1%, and the top 0.1%. This is the second straight year that average incomes have declined.

Consider the fact that over the same period of time that incomes were declining for at least 80% of Americans, the Dow Jones Industrial Average rose by more than 10%. Thus the owners of capital grow wealthier while the majority of people who live by their labor grow poorer.

This has been your class war update. Please try to stop losing so much.

[ Pic via]

A former CBS entertainment reporter is suing the network and two of his former bosses, alleging that the two men groped and kissed him against his will and that he was fired from his job interviewing celebrities because he complained about the harassment to HR.

Ken Lombardi, 29, says senior producer Duane Tollison kissed his neck at a 2013 office party and slid his hand down Lombardi's pants to grab his dick. Afterward, the producer allegedly half-apologized in a flirty text message, which is reproduced in court documents:

“I wanted to apologize if anything I did offended you or crossed a line. I like to get a little crazy. If you weren’t offended, then let’s do it again. LOL How is your day so far? :)”

Lombardi also claims he was victimized by CBS Evening News director Chip Colley after he asked Colley for advice about his work. Instead, he says, Colley drunkenly hit on him at a gay bar, kissing him and rubbing his leg. The conversation allegedly turned to sex, with Colley pushing Lombardi into admitting he's bisexual, and grilling him about his porn-viewing habits.

"While I was being attacked by Chip, I was texting my brother, 'Oh my God, I’m about to be raped. Please, God, help me,'" Lombardi told the New York Post. "It’s painful to even look at them again."

“I just turned 28 at time, Chip was in his mid- to late 50s, had been in the business for at least 30 years — he’s heavily connected — and he was running Scott Pelley ‘s news show,” he said. “I was terrified.”

Afterward, he says Colley started following him around the office in a creepy fashion.

Lombardi told CBS's HR department what was going on, but says his report wasn't exactly handled professionally. He says his direct supervisor, Paula Cohen (who manages the entertainment section of CBS' website, and is also named in the suit) just yelled at him and didn't take his allegations seriously.

Lombardi left CBS in November.

The network says his claims are "without merit" and they intend to mount a vigorous legal defense.

[h/t New York Post]

In a bizarre sequence of horrendous events, Denise Chiffon Berry was shot and killed near Los Angeles on Wednesday—seemingly at random—by a gunman who followed her and her son in their car.

According to police, Berry, 44, was driving with her 12-year-old son on Kornblum Avenue in Hawthorne, Ca. Wednesday afternoon when the two apparently spotted a Cadillac with a man's legs hanging out the window.

“This is what the little boy is saying,” Hawthorne police Lt. Dave Coleman told the Daily Breeze. “Mommy says, ‘Look at that, isn’t that funny?’ and they made eye contact. She drove on and they began following her.”

When she realized the Cadillac was following her, the Los Angeles Times reports, Berry then drove up to a police officer parked in his vehicle, alerting him to her situation. The officer apparently instructed her to park her car in front of his; as she parked, the Cadillac reportedly drove up, and one man opened fire with two handguns, killing Berry and her injuring her son. The officer exited his car and returned fire, killing the shooter.

The gunman, Robert Washington, 38, and the other two passengers in the car—Brandon Armolav White, 19, and Stanley Ross White, 24—police say, had "no connection whatsoever" to Berry. “It appears to be random or misguided,” Coleman told the Daily Breeze.

The brothers were both arrested by police. Stanley White, the driver, has been charged suspicion of murder and conspiracy; his brother Brandon has been charged with suspicion of conspiracy.

Berry's son was taken to the hospital after the shooting and is reportedly in stable condition.

[Image via KTLA]

Jon Krakauer does not shy away from tough topics in his writing: Mormons (Under the Banner of Heaven), poisonous forest plants (Into the Wild), mountain-climbing expeditions during which almost everyone dies (Into Thin Air). So maybe he's the perfect person to write about America's current favorite hot-button issue, campus rape, which is what he's done in his new book, Missoula, out later this month.

From what scant reports have emerged about the secretive book—of which no advance copies are being made available—Krakauer narrows in on Missoula, Montana, the home of the state's flagship university, as an example of how incidents of campus rape have been grossly mishandled by university and local officials. The city was dubbed the "rape capital of America" due to the proliferation of sexual assaults there, including an alleged gang-rape involving the school's football team. The Department of Justice was called in to investigate.

Missoulians are not taking kindly to the book's forthcoming publication. An article in the Missoulian is headlined "Missoula 'hyperventilating' about Krakauer book on rapes" (though evidence of hyperventilation is slim). In a column in the same paper, Bill Speltz tries to stick up for his town and school before Krakaeur douses it in his fancy-writer shit:

While we’re waiting for the Champion of Justice [ed note: Krakauer] to enlighten us, I’d like to point out some positives springing from the Grizzly athletic department since early 2012. I probably won’t have any book publisher knocking on my door but what the heck.

...

My guess is we won’t read much about that stuff or UM's updated model approach for handling rape cases in “Missoula.” Nor will we see anything about last week’s announcement the Garden City has been ranked among the top six coolest towns to live in by matadornetwork.com.

Good points, Bill.

More eloquent is Montana student Jake Iverson in the school's student newspaper: "When “Missoula” rolls out on April 21, we should soak it up and learn from it. We need to make sure we never again create an environment that can produce a true crime book." Thank you Jake.

Regardless what the Missoulians think, Krakauer is a very good journalist who once climbed Mt. Everest for a story so he really knows how to commit to something. I have faith in very few people in this industry, but I like him so I'm hoping for the best in this book. Also it seems that this book will focus on women's stories (Krakauer reportedly took up the project after he learned that a family acquaintance of his was raped, and said his reporting focuses on the "experiences of several women in Missoula"). In any case, it will be an interesting thing to read after the Rolling Stone fiasco.

Work at Doubleday? Have a secret advance copy? Want to talk? Email me leah@gawker.com.

So you’ve decided to get a pet. Maybe you’re hankering for some furry companionship to perk up the lonesome evenings. Perhaps you’re attempting to plug an emotional gap in your life by saving some of god’s non-edible creatures. Or maybe you just want to strike back at those people clogging up your Instagram feed with blurry pictures of their gurgling babies. Whatever your motive, there is but one choice here, and that animal is the cat.

Once you’ve acquired one of your own, you’ll find that never before has a creature been so content just to be. For these furballs, life is a cyclical pursuit of food and naps. The cat doesn’t just recognize the glass ceiling but embraces it; as long as the occasional sunbeam can seep through. Cod philosophy aside, here’s how you get a cat.

Be a hero.

First up, adopt, don’t shop. Forget about the exotic breeds that used to be advertised in the back of Cat Fancy magazine—to hell with the hairless Donskoy or the uppity Chinchilla Persian!—and hit up your local shelter. I got my current cat, Mimosa, from the Brooklyn Animal Rescue Coalition, which is colloquially known as the Cat Loft and was recently visited as part of Run the Jewels’ Meow the Jewels project. Any shelter will do, though: They are all stocked with kitties rescued from some homeless hell or dysfunctional owner.

How do you begin to navigate through this clowder of caged cats? Well, tri-colored calicos look cool, but that abundance of white hair will certainly sparkle on your clothes as shedding ensues. Tortoiseshells are usually smaller than other cats if size is a consideration; you could also step up like a champ and take home the much-shunned black cat, being that they suffer from a lower adoption rate than other-colored kitties. But really, you want to seek out the humble domestic shorthair. These are the ultra-common tabby cats that you see everywhere; ideally, its commoner status means you’re rescuing a cat that’s going to be grateful for your attention and care.

Other cursory considerations should include aiming for the sweet-spot of a six-month-old kitty that’s billed as house-trained. That way you’re still gonna get a chunk of kittenish behavior to coo over without all the hassle of having to train the cat. Also, feline folklore suggests female cats like male owners best, so line up the chromosomes appropriately if you’re the suspicious type.

But they’re all so cute!

Now that you’ve honed in on your feline archetype, it’s time to get smart: Pick the best in show. Sure, that might sound a little arrogant, but you’re going to need to quickly judge the cat’s entire personality from a brief introduction. Be wary of the overly energetic cat running around its cage playing with any toy that comes on its radar: This guy is probably not going to be the most relaxed creature once you get it home. Likewise, any cat cowering in its cage or treating you in too wary a manner might take a lot of adjusting to a new home and could hint at psychological issues. Look for the cat that’s kept its cage clean—you know, food in the bowl as opposed to splattered everywhere—and is showing a presentable level of personal grooming. When that cat gives you an adorable look that says, “Get me out of this hostel-like hell,” that’s when you’ve found your match.

Unfortunately, this is when the up-selling kicks in. People who work in shelters just love to push more and more cats on you. They will tell you that your cat will need company, and that two cats are always better than one. Don’t be fooled: They’re just trying to move units. Remember that two cats means double the expenditure and twice the effort — don’t be that person who assumes that adopting two cats means they will amuse and care for each other all day while you ignore them.

The cat needs to poop in a box.

Okay, so now that you’ve successfully selected yourself a cat, you’ll need some basic supplies. There’s no cute way of saying that you’ll need a litter box for the cat to do its business in. This thing will not become a mini-zen garden that you’ve installed in a tidy corner of your abode; there is no Feng shui when it comes to poo boxes. But at least you’re not having to pick up dog crap twice a day. Grab the cheapest plastic litter box with a covered hood (avoid those upscale electronic ones that claim to self-clean as they do not work and can be a maintenance nightmare).

As far as litter goes, skip the natural brands—you’ll end up living with a smell best described as stale pee absorbed by sawdust and dried corn—and get the crystals. I’d happily wear a Fresh Step T-shirt, as their litter is 10 bucks for a month’s supply and absorbs odors like magic. If you place the litter box in the bathroom, scooping crystals and brown nuggets from the box to the human toilet is a cinch—and at some point you might also get to experience the bonding experience that is simultaneous pooping with your cat. (Note: Many cat owners are ardently opposed to flushing litter, given studies on its effect on sea otters on the West Coast. So yeah, maybe just toss the litter.)

It’s all gravy when it comes to cat food.

There are internet wormholes galore detailing the conditions in certain pet-food-processing plants, along with theories speculating on the exact ratio of protein your kitty should have in its diet, but all that becomes moot, because this will happen: One day, you’re going to realize that you’re all out of the premium organic cat food you so thoroughly researched, and have to pick up something from the local deli on the way home. This can will be called Fancy Feast. The streets call it kitty crack. Your cat will devour it like a first experience with fast food. When you finally re-up on the premium organic stuff, the cat will sense something is amiss and walk away from its bowl. This is when you need to usher in a compromise: Serve healthy dried kibble in the morning (Ellen invests in a good brand) and placate the cat with a small amount of Fancy Feast Gravy Lovers in the evening as a treat. (Getting your cat onto a half-and-half diet also helps if you’re ever away for the night, as you can just leave out extra dried food.)

Play no games.

You’ll be tempted to splurge on the fun-looking stuff like toys and bedding and furniture. Don’t. Cat consumer goods are designed to appeal to humans, not cats. Do you think Little Drizzy (or whatever rapper you’ve named your cat after) cares whether a toy resembles a piece of sushi or a bed has pictures of fish on it? No, but the Pet Industrial Complex does. So fight the power and stick to this list of things that history has proven cats actually like: ping-pong balls, pieces of ribbon, paper packaging, cardboard boxes, and balled-up receipts. Provide something akin to a hobo cat city, and your kitty will think well of you. Testament to this is the one genius-level cat toy in the world, the Cat Dancer: It’s basically a piece of corrugated cardboard on a thin wire.

Hold on, we’re going home.

Now that you’re fully catted up, it’s time for the big day when you collect the cat. (There may be some sort of adoption application form to fill in, but there’s no chance you’re failing this if you can remember your address.) Do this on a weekend or a time when you can be home for a couple of days. Put all of the cat’s essential stuff—food and water and litter box—in the bathroom or another small enclosed space. Basically, the cat needs to know that this isn’t an elaborate trap. Then you can let the cat out into the room (with the door closed). It might stay in its carrier for a minute. It might scuttle out and hide under something. It might even decide to sit in its fresh litter box. These things are all okay. Leave some treats out for it, then leave it alone. Go and take a nap or fix a snack. Check back on the cat. It might have decided to explore the room, or it might still be hiding. Again, both are fine. If it seems like it’s clamoring to leave the room and explore the rest of its new home, let it. If not, leave the door a little ajar before bedtime. There’s a good chance that when you wake, you’ll see the cat sitting on the couch.

Remember that cats like to scratch.

The couch, allegedly.

Before you get a cat, it’s a given that some person will regale you with a horror story about how their cat destroyed their prized Ikea two-seater. Yes, cats like to scratch—it can relieve stress, it feels good, it’s part of playing—but cats are not finagling to ruin your furniture specifically. So get a scratching post. The one claiming to be the best in the world is actually very decent and not too much of an eyesore. Then if you find your cat scratching something you don’t want it to scratch, simply pick it up and take it over to the scratching post. Cats learn quickly—and you can speed up the learning with treats. (An empty spray-cleaning bottle filled with water can also be used if you want to embrace a bad-kitty-cop tactic, and in my experience the occasional accidental spritz with a Swiffer WetJet can give your cat’s coat something of a pleasing luster.)

Congratulations: You now have an almost zero-maintenance pet that will happily sleep for about 20 hours a day yet still purr with delight when you decide to grace it with your presence. Life is good in that moment. Go ahead and Instagram it.

Phillip Mlynar lives in Queens, NYC. When not writing about rappers for Red Bull, NYLON, and the Village Voice, he muses on the feline form for Catster. His Twitter claims he's the world's foremost expert on rappers' cats.

Illustration by Tara Jacoby.

Adequate Man is Deadspin's new self-improvement blog, dedicated to making you just good enough at everything. Suggestions for future topics are welcome below.

Pablo, a famous celebrity with whom you are by now surely familiar, was arrested this morning for allegedly running through New York's John F. Kennedy airport, shouting, "I'm Pablo, I will be famous!" Mission accomplished, Pablo.

Pablo—whose birth name is Claudio Duran, go figure—made his gambit for the spotlight shortly after abandoning what police say was a stolen bakery truck on the street near Terminal 8. ABC 7 reports:

At about 6 a.m., Port Authority police responded to a report of a possible breach at the main checkpoint of the terminal.

The suspect was yelling, "I'm Pablo, I will be famous!" as he ran through the American Airlines terminal, according to Port Authority police.

Claudio Duran, 20, of New York, was arrested and charged with grand larceny, criminal possession of stolen property, criminal trespass and trespass.

Like Norma Jean Baker willing herself into stardom as Marilyn Monroe, or Jimmy Gatz becoming Gatsby on the road to his orgastic future, so did Pablo, shedding the baggage of his past life as Claudio Duran in a headlong sprint toward Gate 37.

We'll be watching his next move closely.

Contact the author at andy@gawker.com.

A lonely Argentine shepherd was found dead in his bed Tuesday, lying next to what initially appeared to investigators to be another person, but was quickly determined to be a scarecrow outfitted with "special features," including jeans, lipstick, a wig, and a 6-inch plastic sex tube.

The man, 58-year-old José Alberto Lescano, lived alone in a rural section of Balcarce, near Buenos Aires, and was described by a witnesses as a loner who never had visitors and didn't own a cell phone, the Buenos Aires newspaper Cronica reported. The shepherd's body apparently lay there for 24 to 48 hours before the owner of the house discovered it.

An autopsy revealed Lescano had died of "nontraumatic cardiac arrest," and there was no blood or sign of injury, according to El Diario de Balcarce, the only newspaper that visited the scene.

Local prosecutor Rodolfo Moure told El Diario Tuesday that "the presence of the doll is striking," and speculated that Lescano could have died in "some erotic game." Given the evidence, police thought it was unlikely there was third, non-scarecrow party involved in the death.

[h/t New York Post, Photo: Shutterstock]

Roger Waters once wrote, "Big man, pig man, ha ha, charade you are." Was he talking about this pig who took over a Burger King in southwestern Pennsylvania on Thursday morning? He wasn't—he was talking about capitalism, or something about how you shouldn't trust authority, or maybe social inequality. Still, though, check out this pig.

The AP reports little Mr. Potbellied Pig wandered away from his little pig home and into a Burger King on U.S. Route 30 early Thursday morning. Burger King employee J.J. Nicols spoke to the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review about his pig experience, which began "when [he] saw this big, black scary-looking ball of fur laying near the back door.” He continues:

"I was kind of scared. I got up and I realized it was a pig. I was beating on the back door, yelling for a manager and he was like, 'I'm not opening the door! Come round the side!'"

Wow, rude manager. The New York Daily News reports the pig then blocked the drive-thru, straight up taking over the whole damn Burger King without even trying.

However, it wasn't all nonviolent resistance for this pig. Pennsylvania State Troopers were called to collect him after the fat little guy bit somebody on the little human foot. Nicols goes on about the foot attack, saying, "it was crazy":

"The pig was really friendly. [Pig bite victim Ashlee Shawley] was like, 'Hey!' And the pig just kind of walked up to her and bit her right on the foot."

Damn.

Mr. Pig was eventually reunited with its owners and taken home. Big man, pig man, ha ha, charade you are indeed.

Image via Shutterstock. Contact the author at kelly.conaboy@gawker.com.

Don't call Glenn Beck crazy because of the crazy things he says because of the crazy things he believes. Call Glenn Beck crazy because he published a near-600 word manifesto about the importance of jeans for the American people.

Sometime ago, making fun of Glenn Beck's antics became boring, as most things do. But yesterday he went on Facebook, where all good and sound ideas begin, to announce his new women's fashion line—1791. Look at him, up there, staring off at good, honest American farmland. There are only whites here, he thinks to himself, his noble American ass robed in fine, riveted, American-made denim. Now you can give your ass the Beck treatment, with 1791 jeans.

In no point during his rambling post does he explain the significance of "1791"—perhaps it's a nod to the publication year of the Declaration of the Rights of Woman and the Female Citizen, or meant to honor the year the U.S. started diplomatic relations with Portugal. At any rate, it's fucking nuts, and a little more theatrical than most Facebook posts about pants. While reading this, it's best to imagine Beck delivering it as a speech on the scorched hull of a warship, rallying the last remaining Christians in a battle to retake the Evansville, Indiana Cracker Barrel, which serves as their capital:

Today I make good on a decade old promise to myself and my daughters.

Years ago when my oldest daughters were teenagers I would take them to the mall to buy new clothes.

I hated it. But not for the reason one might think.

I don't mind shopping with women for clothes. I love to see them dress up, try new things and see their eyes light up when they know "this is the one".

I could join the chorus of men and women who complain they can't find anything age appropriate or modest for their daughters.

But my trouble was not only that, mine stems from the fact that while growing up my daughter was a dress size SMALLER than America's most famous model and sex symbol Marilyn Monroe.

God forbid a designer makes anything cool that would fit her! Most American women are shaped like Norma Jean not the 12 year old boy shaped models covering the walls of the 'cool stores'.

As I wiped the quiet and hidden tears away store after store as she was told, "oh, no, it doesn't come in that size." I made myself a promise.

I wasn't famous or rich at the time, but I vowed if I ever had a chance I would start a fashion line that was cool, hip, and great quality that would come in sizes that would fit my Marilyn.

Today I make good on that promise. 1791 is proud to announce our new line of women's Denim. We begin with denim jacket and jeans.

[...]

I kind of think it is one of those fundamental God given rights. To feel pretty.

Because you are.

As we grow so will our selection and sizes because it is time we celebrate real diversity. After all, God made us different colors, shapes and sizes.

That's a lot. That's a lot to read about jeans. You probably weren't expecting to read a jeans manifesto today that also invokes God. So these jeans... these jeans really better deliver. There's a lot on the line here, before God and his wife and daughters. "God forbid a designer makes anything cool that would fit her," Beck warns. Will Glenn Beck defy God himself?

The 1791 lineup of jeans designed for and accessible by the American everywoman starts at $150, and only goes up to a size 34 waist. Beck lamented that "Most American women are shaped like Norma Jean not the 12 year old boy shaped models covering the walls of the 'cool stores,'" and yet here are the bodies he's using to display his wares:

These are clothes that most Americans can't afford in sizes many Americans won't be able to fit into. The idea of marketing clothes for the hot "I'm afraid of everything that doesn't look like me" demo is a shrewd one in terms of absolute big-Dixie-balls-to-the-wall capitalism—the right loves to vote with its wallets. But instead it's the same bullshit brand-talk that's been a liberal bulwark for a long time now:

We are about a lifestyle and we cling to a simple philosophy, that life is better when the stuff around us, and the people in our lives, are real, and when they are simple. We at 1791 are dreamers, dreamers that are just silly enough to believe that we are all capable of becoming the people we were born to be. And we believe that 1791 can help us get there by reminding us of what is real. All of our clothes are of the highest quality and are made in the USA. We insist on holding ourselves to this most high standard because our clothes are made to be used, to be worked in, and to last. Because life is not disposable and our lives are meant to be full, full of hard work, full of love, laughter, and sometimes even sorrow.

1791 now can go beyond providing you with clothes; it can provide you with the tools to lead a full life. From the football you throw to your son on a Saturday, to the wool blanket you wrap around your wife, sitting next to her by the fire, whether it is on the couch on a cold winter night or under the stars in the mountains. We are striving to provide you with the highest quality goods for all aspects of your life. Because it is the well-worn axe lying next to your woodpile, your kitchen table marked with water rings, and your most loved jeans that show the adventures that tell the story of your life.

Among many other overpriced items, Glenn Beck will sell you an ax for $200:

Glenn Beck will sell you organic beard oil for $12:

Glenn Beck will sell you a silver coin commemorating the extinct American factory worker who lost his job because of free trade and anti-union policies enacted by politicians elected by Glenn Beck fans for $150:

For $180 you can buy a single basketball and remind yourself of what once made America great:

Life is better when the stuff around us, and the people in our lives, are real, and when they are simple, says Glenn Beck's branding consultant, which is why you should buy this $895 framed morse code diagram (PLEASE note shipping is $5 extra):

This all looks like things from a Brooklyn boutique, not Heartlandcore. It's enough to make you think Glenn Beck is really full of it!

Contact the author at biddle@gawker.com.
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The Minnesota man who masturbated into the coffee cup of a co-worker he had a crush on pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge of indecent exposure on Thursday.

On August 26, a woman working at Beisswenger’s hardware store in New Brighton contacted police to report a co-worker—later identified as Robert John Lind—who she claimed was leaving some sort of bodily fluid on her desk and in her coffee. From WCCO:

She told police that she had found Lind standing at her desk with his back turned toward her. Lind allegedly had both of his hands in front of him near his genitals.

According to the original complaint, when Lind noticed the woman he looked at her with a “deer in headlights” expression and quickly went into another room.

The woman told police she inspected her desk and noticed a strong odor that resembled urine, but was a bit different and strange.

She said her coffee smelled the same way and noted that she had had an ongoing issue with a experiencing a foul taste in her coffee.

Two days later, Lind confessed to jerking off onto his co-workers desk a total of four times and into her coffee twice. While confessing, Lind reportedly told police that he’s had a crush on the woman and that the masturbation was in revenge for the woman threatening to report his prior inappropriate behavior, which included approaching her multiple times with his zipper down.

Felony charges against Lind were dropped in November, when the Ramsey County Attorney’s Office determined there was not enough probable cause to support a specific definition of “sexual contact.”

“Unfortunately, there are no other applicable felony charges that we can file at this time,” a spokesperson for the Ramsey County Attorney’s Office told WCCO.

Image via Shutterstock.com. Contact the author at taylor@gawker.com.