The following conversation is brought to you excerpted by Gmail chat:

Forky: Holy crap! It's midnight in the City that Never Sleeps.
Cach: In that case, I fail to see the emergency.
Forky: You have a point...

Forky: ...I hate that I can't see or hear the word HOPE anymore without it being colored!
Cach: Oh, Forky… that’s terrible…
Forky: No, wait… I didn’t mean… ha!...

Cach: ...We can only be clear about our message and know ourselves. We must know what "good theatre" means. For ourselves. And communicate it to the best of our ability. Right?
Forky: Yes. But you're stuck if some idiot sees Mamma Mia and thinks it's good.
Cach: Or RENT.
Forky: Now, it may just be because he hasn't been exposed to good theatre so he has nothing to judge it by. Or he may have just been in the mood for a dumb time with dumb songs in a dumb show. Or he may actually think it's good because he's an idiot.
Cach: Or because we are miserable failures at teaching ourselves that degradation and immorality is not entertaining.
Forky: It is when you set it to 'Dancing Queen,' Cach.