The scene is intermission during  "The Marriage of Figaro" at the Met in
early December, 2014

We are approached by an executive of a high-profile environmental
fundraising machine.  (Many people come and make conversation as a feeble
excuse to get a closer look at all the laws of physics seemingly being
broken by whatever outfit Joanne is [almost] wearing.)

He said: "Are you looking at the Neon - ex problem?" (rhyming it with
"Bionics")

("Neon?", I thought. "Does he mean the gas, or is this some new workout
program or diet fad?")

"I'm sorry" I said "I haven't any idea what a 'Neon - ex' is."

"The pesticides!", he answered.

"Oh, you mean Neonics - Neonicotinoids!"  Exclaims Joanne. 

She immediately breaks into song - similar to the  Gilbert and Sullivan
"Major-General" song:

"Imidacloprid, acetamiprid, dinotefuran, and thiacloprid. 
Clothianidin, thiamethoxam, nithiazine, what does it mean?..." 

She then takes a breath, and goes for a second verse - 

"Merit, Safari, Helix, Cruiser, Adage, and Pravado. 
Meridian, Centric, Flagship, Poncho, Titan, Clutch, and Goucho. 
Belay, Arena,  Admire, Calypso, Assail, and Confidor.
Legend, Encore, Premise, Intruder, and there ain't no more.
We don't know the long-term risks, and no one's really keeping score".

Then she says "I'm off to the powder room." 
She walks away, leaving the nearest half-dozen people open-mouthed in
amazement.
I am left to say "I must defer to my wife's better-researched view". 

There should be no doubt in anyone's mind as to why I am so devoted to her.
I asked her to sing it again this morning, so I could type it up.

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