Life is a Cabaret, Old Chum
So come to the cabaret. I've realized that our life is something of a musical. Granted we don't have Beyonce in our living room (yeah, that's the room she'd be in) or a bunch of Jets and Sharks breakdance fighting in our yard, but we've got song, and yes, we've got moxy. Tons of moxy.
What happens, often, when your life is a musical, is that random occurrences become full-fledged song and dance numbers. Something we're really fond of doing is taking an existing song and altering the lyrics to fit our situation, for instance, this morning when Atticus got the OJ out of the refrigerator and said he wanted a new jug, well get Huey Lewis on the phone, because I ran with that baby. The boys did the dancing portion of the show.
What's my point here. To entertain, people! To entertain. And of course inform.
If you're blue and you don't know who to turn to...well, have some fun. Nobody ever feels bad after breaking into spontaneous and meaningless song. Imagine if everyone did this. Oh, wouldn't it be loverly?