Les Miserables has been dominant in my brain lately. It's what I listen to in my car, as a matter of fact. There is a line which has always bugged me, and so it's the subject of today's blog. Here is a taste-test of the progression of thought that almost always comes whenever I hear that part of the play.
It comes from the song Drink With Me. Setting: friends are gathered in a tavern, lamenting their oncoming battle, knowing full well they might not survive.
"Here's to pretty girls who went to our heads. Here's to witty girls who went to our beds."
Why do the witty girls go to their beds, but not their heads?
Why don't the pretty girls go to their beds??
Why are pretty and witty mutually exclusive?
Am I pretty? Or am I witty?
Which is better? Going to a man's head or his bed? And why?
Which is the kind that you marry?
Are men dumb?