This SpongeBob SquarePants figurine fetched $1,500 at auction in Paris because Karl Lagerfeld perched some specs on it, painted fingerless gloves and attached what I thought was a pharaoh’s postiche but is actually a very rakish plastic tie with a symmetrical windsor knot. Bully.

The money was raised for the WWF which it turns out has nothing to do with wrestling and everything to do with some charity involving a large and supercute panda logo but I don’t think the Stephen Sprouse-ish nod to the “Bob Qui?” is the tack to take especially since “Bob Quoi the Fuck?” really gets to the heart of the matter.

Seriously, is he dreaming exclusively in ugly these days? It’s so embarrassing how doddering and oldtimey it is to trick out SpongeBob, it’s SO Pharrell, SO Nigo, SO Russell Simmons. The Kaiser is now openly pelting us with fistfuls of cudgeled shit from what is seemingly an inexhaustible pile of shit that maybe costs $400,0000 a year to climate control. Let’s do nothing about it.

Emily Gould reads two books about love so you don’t have to-the Christina Nehring brief history of romance and Julie Metz’s crazy memoir. WARNING: the Metz book contains the sentence “I creamed the lacy panties I had bought for the occasion.” Wow.

An Ohio man who claimed to hate Christmas is being sought in connection with the robbery of a Salvation Army bell-ringer. The man apparently stole the bell-ringer’s kettle full of charitable contributions. This is a horrible story! It is the Christmas season! The Salvation Army was going to use that money to not hire gays or pay domestic partnership benefits. What is wrong with the world?

Here are two excellent explainy-type pieces about issues you may want clarification of: Neal Ungerleider fills you in on the Dubai debt crisis, while Alex Pareene looks at the climate change “scandal” that has so many on the right wetting their pants with joyful indignation (and, metaphorically, semen). Now you know!

How many people do you think were at the store or newsstand or whatever and were like, A GALLERY OF RESCUED FIGHTING DOGS? HERE IS MY $4.95! (In your answers, please graph that alongside the number of people who were excited because, like, JOE KLEIN SAID SOMETHING?)

Andy Rooney is still alive-and very sarcastic!

Barack Obama’s first-year approval ratings have dipped below 50% (just like Reagan’s!), his recent trip to Asia was deemed a failure by many in the pundit class, and The Economist labeled him “The Quiet American,” asking “is he merely a presidential version of Alden Pyle, Graham Greene’s idealistic, clever Quiet American who wants to change the world, but underestimates how bad the world is-and ends up causing harm?” And then there’s the robot threat! Last week at the White House, though, talking to a group of competitive teenage robot designers and mathletes in an event to promote new initiatives in science and technology innovation, the president proved yet again that he has it all under control.

You don’t have to be a Bulgarian to celebrate Bear’s Day, but, uh, that’s where they celebrate it. Today! Happy Bear’s Day, everybody! Please enjoy the legend behind it.

Once upon a time, long time ago, in a family with a small daughter the woman died. The father remarried a woman who also had a daughter. But the step-mother loved her child more and made the step-child do all the housework. And she was never satisfied. Once, when it was very cold, she gave the step-child black wool and told her to wash it till it becomes white. “Or else, don’t return home!”, said the step-mother. The small girl put the wool on her shoulder and went to the river. She began washing but… the black wool never became white. Frozen all over, the child sat on the bank and cried. Immediately an old man with a white beard appeared in front of her. “Why are you crying, child?”, asked the old man gently. The girl told him everything and the good man said: “Put the wool on your shoulder, go back home and don’t be afraid.” Then suddenly he disappeared.

The child went home, knocked on the closed door for a while and when the evil step-mother opened the door she was struck — in front of her a golden girl was standing and shining like the sun itself. She became even more angry when she understood how the child turned golden and decided to send her own child as well, so it becomes golden too. She dressed it well, gave it wool and sent it to the river. The little girl quickly reached the river, threw away the wool for she had no intention to wash it and sat on the bank. She waited and waited but nobody came. She was all frozen and started crying. In a moment the man with the white beard appeared. “Why are you crying, child?”, the old man asked. “I’m waiting for you, old man,” the girl answered in a rude voice, “I want you to make me gold and go back home.” “All right, my girl, put the wool on your shoulder and go back home,” the old man said and disappeared. The girl grabbed the wool and ran home. The step-mother, on hearing her steps, quickly opened the door but closed it on the moment, for in front of her was standing a big black bear. The old man punished the evil step-mother by turning her child into a bear.

Some punishment. Bears are awesome!

Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi will once again be unable to attend one of his corruption trials because of pressing state business-this time he’s cutting the ribbon at the opening of a new stretch of highway.

What happens if you actually print out our recipes for steak and mac and cheese and take them to your kitchen? One Awl reader, a lass by the name of Amy, decided to find out while back on the homestead for Thanksgiving.

Amy writes:

“The fucking steak was really fucking spectacular. I got pics to prove it.

My friend’s mother took the ‘fundamentalist’ in Scocca’s mac & cheese literally: ‘What recipe told you to put in this much mac & cheese? It could feed a church!’ I didn’t bother trying not to laugh. Oh, small town Texas.

You guys didn’t warn us how hard shopping for this stuff could be: first time around we picked up mostly miscellaneous supplies for other projects, plus milk, and steak (holy fuck that fucking steak). I got distracted by two guys talking about Jews-in Nowhereville, Texas, a conversation that puts ‘some people think that they…’ in close proximity to ‘Jews’ is like a siren call to a girl from Jewtown, Maryland. Oh, the stories I’d heard. I only wanted to find out if they were true! Which I went about in a somewhat awkward manner. First they thought I was accusing them of antisemitism, then they thought maybe I was an antisemite, but once I told them I was Jewish they were quick to assure me that ‘we love Jews!’ Turns out they worshiped with Messianic traitor Jews (kidding: they can believe what they want, but don’t fucking call me not a good Jew for not knowing Hebrew when those are the people you’re hanging out with).

But they were nice, so far as someone who thinks you’re gonna go to hell unless you believe what they do can be.

We were stuck in traffic trying to ‘take the steak home’ as per Balk’s instructions when we noticed we’d forgotten the cheese.

On the second try, we got cheese plus a couple more things we’d forgotten. And then, back to my friend’s home, where I stared at the Star of David on a box of kosher salt for validation. (Look, I want to learn Hebrew. But not knowing it doesn’t make me a bad Jew and neither does questioning God’s existence.)

The fucking steak was excellent, by the way.

I’ve decided Scocca’s mac & cheese isn’t inherently fundamentalist, but it can definitely point that way if you’re… that type. The cheese ‘spoke to me’; I looked at the mounds of grated cheese in and around the bowl I had grated into, and decided that yes, we could use more. Which is how we ended up with a pound and a half of cheese swallowing a pound of macaroni. Given the amount, my friend’s mother’s guess that this was a church recipe was… understandable. It was all on faith, after all.

Thou shalt have no other gods before me. (Well, I guess Tom Scocca is one of the gods after.)

But the steak. The FUCKING steak. If any level of deliciousness can prove the existence of the One True God… Balk, are you my Creator? (If you honestly don’t know, I will understand. A man like you has many preoccupations.)

Love,

Your Thankful Disciples,
The Nocturnal Jew and the Small Town Texas Violent Offender

PS: Would appreciate if The Awl ran an explanation of How To Clean Up a Fucking Kitchen. kthx.”

Our advice on kitchen-cleaning pretty much comes down to “hiring someone” or “feigning exhaustion while someone else handles it,” but we’ll look deeper for some other pro tips. And thanks, Amy! And best of luck on your next cholesterol test.