In accordance with the will of Da Mayer of Chicago, today begins the week of Shakespeare speak in honor of William Shakespeare’s 445th birthday this Thursday…I will abide by the wishes of the corrupt one and speaketh in the tongue of Shakespeare.
To blog or not to blog–that is the question.
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
the slings and arrows of outrageous commentary
Or to take arms against the sea of Obama supporters
And by opposing; end them
Thine shouts of protests had not gone unheeded
Ye called out such insults as “Thou art a knave!” as I defended the honor of the fruit of the loins of Madam Palin
Oh the sting of such speech had hurt me to the quick and yet…and yet…
Methinks the sting was pleasurable because to feel such agony assured me that my soul was yet intact.
To die–to blog no more; and by lying waste my keyboard doth go cold
My heartache as the thousand posts which which rambled through my head went unheeded
Alas, this agony sent shocks which leaveth me dazed and confused (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it).
That blogging is heir to: a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d
To blog, to scorn thy bottom with endless pounds of unsightly flesh
As putting forth the script whilst eating vast amounts of chocolate dost do me immeasurable harm
And yet…and yet
My brain continues to flourish with ideas to pass and nonsense to put forth
To blog, perchance to dream- ay, there is the rub!
How long dost this blog continue?
Until thou hast shuffled off this mortal coil?
NAY!
‘Tis a Bad Habit to be sure which should not continue until my last breath leaves this weary, torn body.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of other bloggers who have chosen “The One”?
Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely
The insolence of office, and the spurns of those who protect ‘th unworthy master whom thou hast made proud!
After blogging comes death to us all
Sooner than later it may be
I shalt continue this blog for reason of self servitude
The selfishness of my youth doth cling to me as I cling to thee.
For with age–my body has broken
The knee no longer moves for it is cast
Perchance the healing will be quick and my departure will be nigh
Ah yes, with age comes wisdom and beauty–along with stretched and torn ligaments.
I will bear my ills, but rather not do it alone
My suffering will be thou suffering as thou will be subjected to posts equally as tedious and contemptible as this.
Alas dear friends (or enemies who choose to read), my mind can no longer bear this bard-like speech
I will end your suffering with the suggestion that you visit Master Randal of L’ennui Melodieux who is the true master
of bard and with whom I lusteth greatly.
My sicklied knee requires medication which will bring me to the heavens and fill my mind with colors and images to behold.
Oh the pleasure it brings!
I wisheth to share this ectasy with thou, but ’tis illegal to do so.
Until we meet again….
Nunly
TRY CHECKING OUT MY OTHER BLOG
