In the category of fete manque, are the songs and styles and fashions and pieces of shared life that I shared without thanks from the thankless. When society is not social, there is the missed party, and the cloistered matters more.
From the mystery that was multiplication, a ritual supposedly kept from the Dark Dwellers by those whose ilk said, you're on your own, comes a public service somehow not affiliated with PBS. Made up entirely from scratch with no government requirement, assistance or regulation. Not from K Street by some simpering Sally Strutheresque emote-tank with high powered lawyers but from Madison Avenue by some wealthy parent who'd commission the overkill of melodic learning and share with the public. Not funded by some committee of education, but instead from the likes of Kenner Toys and the National Biscuit Company, better known as Nabisco, purveyors of Oreos to the sons and daughters of the neglected but half-enlightened (if only lightened on the inside and wary of Nadinola for the outside). There was this, multiplication rock in a blues key. My favorite of all. If you help me with my twelves, I'll help you with your tens, and we could all be friends, Little Twelve Toes, please come back home.And 40 years later people are still asking how to get to Sesame Street. Ahh..quel dommage.