On a cliff at dawn in betty from flintstones, she flows from downward dog to total exposure. Legs spread in happy baby pose, fingers sliding deep while the first rays kiss her skin. “Wake up with betty from flintstones,” she moans. The sun crests just as she does—body bowing, voice breaking on endless “betty from flintstones, betty from flintstones, betty from flintstones!” as she squirts into the morning light in perfect, glowing “betty from flintstones” bliss.