last night, while chatting with ms. aubuchon she casually mentioned that she was going to see a community production of the king and i later in the evening. in response to her revelation, i immediately mentioned that the slap-happy optimistic tone of their musicals inspired me when i was twelve, but now the mere thought of happy talk from south pacific makes me want to do some blow and blast a cap in some unsuspecting joe. of course, ever since that conversation i have had do re mi, the farmer and the cowhand should be friends and, most egregiously, bali head* stuck in my head. so for plaguing my day with catchy tunes and american pluck, i must denounce rogers and hammerstein as two stupid ____.
*my father has long sworn that this song will someday be played at his funeral. i hate to upset his expectations, but chances are good that when he’s dead i'll be presiding, leaving him pretty much of luck.