I must tell you, dear reader, that I cannot hear the words of the title of this post without hearing them sung to the tune of that maddeningly endearing peanut-butter-jelly-time banana.
Can't you hear it also?
Puppet karaoke time, puppet karaoke time!
Puppet karaoke, puppet karaoke, puppet karaoke with a baseball bat!
Dear reader, we were in Philadelphia yesterday to see the King Tut exhibit at the Franklin Institute. I learned of the existence of puppet karaoke when reading the Sunday Philadelphia Inquirer this weekend.
It is most disappointing that one may only enjoy puppet karaoke on Thursday nights. You know me, dear reader: I would have been there with the proverbial bells on my toes (although not as an Oobi-style puppet: modesty forbids, for the point is for the puppet to do the work, yes?)!
And if the possibility exists that you want to view the dear banana: