Yesterday, I was perusing a little Shakespeare, and yes I can hear you gnash your teeth, un-gnash them (you have to un-gnash in order to be able to to cry out you see) and cry out in an anguish so profound I can hear all the way through the airwaves into my living room, "Oh no, not Shakespeare again, what is wrong with you, can't you think about any modern writer.
To this I haughtily, or maybe snottily, or maybe some other word that rhymes with haughtily and means snooty, reply "Hah, I read more authors than you can imagine, some good, some bad, some beyond bad (for some reason I'm feeling the need for an abundance of adjectives). But sometimes I just need some of that old time literature, where writers could write, truly write beautiful lines and phrases and capture the essence of life's meaning.
No doubt, you've slung your hands in front of your face as you mutter, "Whoa there, this is getting way too deep for any of us around here."
I bow my head in defeat and admit that you, dear reader, are right, this is too deep, we much prefer shallow superficial meaningless drivel. Hence, the lack of guilt in many of us (Is that you sighing in pleasure--or is it disgust-- at my smooth transition into today's topic. No matter, I am nothing if not persistent and ignore your groans.). As a lover of history, I understand the cyclical nature of humanity, and pray fervently on bended knee for this particular phase of constant showmanship to quickly fade into our past because I grow weary of it.
Now before you get your panties in a wad, don't think I want a return to the dreaded and a wee bit hypocritical Victorian Age (Et tu Mrs. Brown, eh?), I want us to be free to love who we want and be what we want. All I ask is for us to remember the golden rule, surely you remember that one, treat others as you want to be treated. That's right, simple and clear. Which means do not cut off some poor fellow's head unless you want to have your's taken in the same way, and don't shoot dozens of innocent people at a school or movie theater or shopping mall or anywhere for that matter unless you yourself want to end up that way.
That's it, easy peasey, so let's all give it a go shall we. And by "all" I mean everybody across the globe. Wouldn't that be a wonderful thing to happen.
I know my simple request will go unheeded,but a girl can dream can't she? As compensation for my not getting my wish, I get to end this however I want and I want to end with a little Shakespeare. And lest you think I'm as bad as the rest, rest assured I strive to always follow the golden rule, so send me whatever your heart desires and I will read it. How's that for fair?
I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been my senses would have cooled
To hear a night-shriek, and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
As life were in ’t. I have supped full with horrors.
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
Cannot once start me.
SEYTON comes back in.
Wherefore was that cry?
What was that cry for?
The queen, my lord, is dead.
She should have died hereafter.
There would have been a time for such a word.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Only the end of the quote, but Patrick Stewart is the best Macbeth ever.