Close your eyes and think about the happiest moment of your entire life. What is it? When your spouse first told you that they loved you? The first time you held your baby daughter after giving birth and thought, "How could something so perfect and small and fragile come out of me"? Or maybe it was a moment much more simple, like doing airwaves out of the passenger window on the first road trip you took after college graduation. God, you were all so young then — back when you were still with Michael and thought you were going to move to Portland and run a food truck together (I hear he's married to Katie now).
Do you have your memory? I want you to take it, whatever you conjured up, and forget about it. Throw it out the window. It's a garbage memory now and it belongs in the trash. This, right now, will be the happiest moment of your life. This is the moment you discover Procatinator. The Internet is retiring. The world is a perfect Eden again.
Procatinator is an online collection of about 80 videos (well, very large GIFs, actually, but they feel like videos — and more will be added soon, thank God) of cats that have been synced perfectly to popular music. Load the page, get a video. Click again for another video, and another and another. It never ends. If this sounds boring to you, you are an idiot and you are wrong. It is hypnotic and beautiful. It has the power to turn you into Howard Hughes — you'll become obsessed, you won't be able to leave the house, your nails will grow long and you will pee in bottles.
The site was created on December 4th, 2011 (which henceforth shall be known as New Christmas) by a web developer in Barcelona named Ernesto González Aroca. Why? We called and asked him; he told us he made the site because he "was bored." What do you do when you're bored? Watch TV? Eat a cake? Be selfish? Not Ernesto. No, this beautiful hero creates art that ignites the world and helps us waste time for hours and hours, lulling us into a happy stupor. And in that, Procatinator is a perfect articulation of the internet at its mind-numbing, addictive core. It says nothing. It says everything. It's the web's id.
Please give Ernesto a Nobel Prize. Or at least recognition for completely putting the Internet out of business. Everyone online can call it a day; there's nothing left for us to do here.