While making the grim phone call to the vet researching whether and how they schedule a home visit for euthanasia (backstory here), I am put on hold by the receptionist.

Muzak kicks in, and it’s Harry Connick, Jr. singing “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”

I’m just saying that art will never be capable of rendering even a reasonable facsimile of life, and if ever it did, people would dismiss it as utterly implausibale.