I recently wrote some songs for a genuINE Country Club Musical.  I had really been wanting to write my own songs, and this was the perfect opportunity to do it.  The plot may go down in the annals of Musical Theater as the most inane ever; I say that fully aware of the statement that I’m making.

I wrote music for 5 of the songs and lyrics for two.  Here’s one song that I wrote both music and lyrics for, called “Finally I’ll Find the Truth”.  It’s sung by a sexy young French foreign exchange student who’s come to the University of Chicago to learn Philosophy the real way.

In France, we have such zest for life,
Our boulevards lined with romance,
But now I seek the rest from life —
A firm philosophical stance.
I’ll leave love behind for the life of the mind,
And find the truth here.

Gone are my nights of passion and bliss,
All that is just for the birds,
No more do I yearn for a passionate kiss,
My passion is only for words.
I’ll tell love, “Adieu,” and I’ll find my milieu
With the truth here.

The games boys play fill me up with ennui,
But here men have brains, so who cares if they’re small and scrawny?

So, now I’m here to pursue without fear
My questions and quand’ries and queries,
I’ll toil away, reading all the day,
for what else can one do in libraries?
I’ll go hit the books and won’t care ’bout my looks,
I’ll work on my proof and remain prim and couth,
While finally finding the truth!

Professor: “But French philosophy has such a rich history of great minds. Why would you want to give that up to come here?”
Emma: “Oh, French philosophers, what a terrible bunch — they never seem to get anything write. Just look at what we’ve had to put up with!”

First, take Montaigne please, can ya please?
For that’s where this mess began to grow.
He was a receptacle for everything skeptical,
But I say, well what does he know?

After it started, it then got Descarted,
Our reason was pushed to the brink,
Well, “Rene,” I say, “you can have your way,
but I am and therefore I think!”

The state of nature you’ll find is great
If your name is Jean Jacques Rousseau,
But it hardly compares to the world of Voltaire’s
The best possible one that I know, Oh!

No stranger a mind are you likely to find
Than the psyche of Albert Camus.
Even sex can read slow when it’s done by Foucault,
Derrida, oh la la, I just have to say “no”!
No, none of these men seek the truth.

So forget those French hacks, they’re not what they seem,
Ah no,
But now I’ve come home to the place of my dreams,
Chicago!

I’m here to discover, no need for a lover,
At night now, my books hold me tight.
Though now I look pretty, I soon will turn gritty,
I’ll grow more aloof while I harbor my youth,
And finally, I’ll find the truth!

And who knows, maybe I’ll even find the time to do some private tutoring… [Professor faints]