Gosh, this is good to read. All the protest songs I used to sing in the 60s are given new life, which will save me struggling to learn new songs at my advanced age.

And again I can use the threat of imminent extinction to spark the deepest instincts of womankind: to have offspring. I can sing the protest songs and offer to rush to my bedroom, where, briefly, our minds will be taken off the impending disaster.

And so the circle goes.