Apropos of Kangaroo Shit . . .

. . . as a good friend of mine used to say:

What can we infer about the works of Gilbert and Sullivan from the fact that they appeal to so many prigs? Does it mean that the Savoy Operas have virtues beyond comicality, so that they please even the morbidly solemn? Or does it mean that they've so little substance, that they can't convey even the most elementary moral of humor--that we're wise to laugh at ourselves?

I cannot, cannot, cannot tell.

No lyrics lately, dammit. Sorry, folks.