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‘Science & Magic’ or: How I Learned to Stop Caring and Monetize My Life




Happy Holidays friends!  Welcome to December, the most joyous time of the year when absolutely everyone is happy about everything! (Right, Tom?  RIGHT, TOM?!?!)  Probably the most joyous thing about this time of family and love is the adoration that advertisers and brands heap upon us whilst imploring that we buy their wares.  It is truly a wonder to behold; Praise be.

These days, there are no brands quite like internet brands.  If you can take something from everyday life, take some cutesie pictures or Vines, and get that sh*t VIRALâ„¢, you’re in amigo.  Once you’ve gone VIRALâ„¢, it’s the gold gravy train from there.  There’s nothing you can’t slap your brand on and sell to someone.

Of particular note this weekend is brand Lil’ Bub.  Lil’ Bub is a cat.  Lil’ Bub is a cat that’s been VIRALâ„¢.  This weekend Bub turned that VIRALityâ„¢ into a music album entitled Science & Magic: A Soundtrack to the Universe.    It is far and away the best music album released by any feline this week, probably even this year (unless one of these unexpectedly drops).

You’re probably wondering something like, “What does an album written and performed by a cat sound like?”  The best answer I can give you is it sounds like strange hype-classical (did I just invent a genre?) with occasional meowing in the background.  Or maybe it sounds like if a 3rd generation clone of Damon Albarn took a bunch of Xanax and fell asleep at a synthesizer… with a cat.  Either way it’s a half hour of songs that sound like they’d be in the background of a Kia commercial, completely superfluous noise that I can’t believe a human being–much less a discerning creature of a feline persuasion–would pay American dollars for.

“Why then,” you ask, “are you writing a review about it?”  It’s a good question and I think it’s because I’m curious about why this exists.  Do we need a whole CD of off-brand stoner electro-funk where a dude instructs his “famous” cat to meow on command?

“Very good.  Do another one.”


“Good one. How ’bout another one?”


I mean, just watch the recording process…

Maybe I’m just jealous.  Dude monetized his cat.  I haven’t been able to monetize a single one of my life skills, much less any of the random shit and pets lying around my apartment.  No one’s running around begging me for a plush version of Sylvester Shoe, my personality filled left loafer.  HE WEAR’S A BOLO TIE, DON’T YOU WANT TO BUY SOMETHING?

Sly Shoe

Or maybe I’m just annoyed that I spent 3 hours on a website reading about and listening to a crappy album, the entire purpose of which seemed to be to get me to buy things I don’t want.  In fact, I’d recommend that you do just about anything else than listen to this shoddy clump of kitty litter techno.  Enjoy something that is actually good.  Like Creed.  Creed was awesome.

Article written by Kalan Kucera

So by your account Harold Potter was a perfectly ordinary Englishman without any tendency towards being a Scotsman whatsoever?