Where’s Kiki de Montparnasse when you really need her?

Know thyself is easier said than done when you’re a Snarkhunter equipped with the cerebral capacity of a concussed bee.

We see here the Bellman doing his best to keep his crews’ spirits up with a bit of anapestic music-hall-cum-ontological crosstalk, all of it involving some sort of terribly misplaced sense of the Socratic Method … a peripatetic method which requires the use of one’s legs, legs which are now growing comfortably numb as the hemlock works its way downwards.

Season of woe indeed!