GK: .....brought to you by the Ketchup Advisory Board. (GENTLE NOSTALGIC PIANO, ALMA MATER)
TR: It was a small college campus like any other, the ivy-covered Gothic buildings ---- the art majors chain-smoking by the front door of the studio building, the baseball team started spring practice, way back in the library stacks, students were doing serious necking, the college president prepared to welcome the school's wealthiest alumnus, and Frisbees flew back and forth in the Quad ---- and then one morning, something was different. The art majors decided to switch to engineering. The baseball coach stood in the lockerroom and talked about baseball as a cultural myth. History professors gave out A's to numbskulls and wrote smiley faces on their midterms. The students who had been necking wrote poems about futility instead. And the president told the wealthy alumnus to take his money and stuff it. The problem? Not enough ketchup. So they removed the mustard pumps in the dining halls and took away the salsa, and eventually things returned to normal. English majors became dark and surly again. The baseball team went to work on baserunning. And the wealthy alumnus donated a life-size statue of himself for the Quad and the Frisbee players took turns hitting it. Ketchup: full of natural normalizing elements. All the best that a condiment can be.
These are the good times, on West 43rd
Spring is coming, so pass the word
Life is flowing like ketchup on bean curds.
Ketchup, ketchup, ketchup.
GK: Ketchup. For the good times.
RD (SINGS): Ketchup...ketchup.