THE Kewpies are giving a Christmas party, the best sort of party, to a whole neighborhoodful of poor children that the rich people forgot.

M1: Mkay. Let me point us back to. This is related to um what we were talking about and how you’re going to um sort of report what happened here tonight.

Author of The Rise of the Creative Class and many other tomes along similar themes, since his self-described conversion in the late Nineties, he [Richard Florida] has preached to all who will listen his doctrine of creative progress, and the necessity to ‘creatify’ even our most lowly service jobs. […] “You can see it here in this great country in things like agriculture, with artisan production. Farming is turning into a creative industry. Now we have to creatify the jobs of the people who take care of our parents, of our kids, who serve us in hotels, in restaurants – that’s the next frontier. We’ve got to creatify those jobs.[…]”

But while he jested thus, / A thought flashed through me, which I clothed in act. / Remembering how we three presented Maid, / Or Nymph, or Goddess, at high tide of feast, / In masque or pageant at my father's court.