In the second act of Gypsy, a stripper named Mazeppa takes a few minutes before her performance at a run-down, third-rate burlesque house to limp through a song advising young Louise on how she, too, can be a star.
Move the scene from a burlesque house to a midwestern aerosol cheese factory. Then substitute for the occupation of stripper, my own occupation of grievous underemployment to further the art of cheese-food production and distribution. This is my empire of wisdom.
I know, Louise. You're welcome.
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