Once upon a time, probably on a Saturday much like this one, a bunch of hungover guys sat around at one of their houses. They'd planned to do more drinking again that evening, but through the mysterious and democratic dance of masculine decision-making, they somehow all agreed - without anyone looking lame - not to get wasted that night. They'd just have a drop or two...for the taste.
After a bit, one of them said, Y'know what's weird? There aren't any love songs.
(It was an ancient time, upon which this story unfolded.)
Huh, they all replied.
Let's go down the couch and everyone make a speech about love.
(Before TV, even. That ancient.)
And so they did.
(But if your hangover is too pounding today to wade through the brilliance that is Plato's Symposium, you can also just lay back and catch an also-brilliant musical interpretation of one of the highlights here.)
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