If you wanted an essay about Captain Kirk, then “too bad, so sad” — despite the title, you ain’t that lucky. What you get instead is yourself and myself standing here with our mask on, transmitting a secret message that’s hard to trace. We’re posing atop the School of Thought, holding a giant piece of wood. And here’s our lyric-sheet:
Beaver, duck, beaver, duck;
Baby-blue pickup truck;
Salivate, elevate;
Doctor Spock is drinking Blood Soda in the Red Room.
As I explained, we’re all masked up while singing this, standing here on the rooftop, with the rest of the mulberry bush in our other hand.
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