If they had left it tuned to one of the stations that show uncensored violence ( Animal Planet and C-SPAN come to mind) I would have been amused.
They left it tuned to PBS.
For those of you unfamiliar with PBS, it stands for Painfully Boring Station. PBS is a station that broadcasts everything that turtleneck sweater and Birkenstock wearing people think is enlightening or vital to spreading militant hippiness.
Today they featured a six hour study of some ancient two legger that apparently thought he was a writer.
His name was William Shakespeare.
From what I gathered, it would seem that there are several requirements to being a literary genius:
1. Always speak in metaphor.
2. All characters must speak in a British accent. (Even if they are Roman, Danish or Scottish)
3. Kill off at least half of your principal characters.
4. Use as many words that end in the letters "th" as possible.
Thus having endured six hours of "cultural education", I have decided to show this upstart what a "real play" looks like. I present to you:
A Midwinters Afternoon's Taming of MacBeth
Strikingly handsometh young Hamlet (me) entereth from the hallway. Upon his regal entry, he noticeth yon fatty. (Ivan)
"Hail thee yon fatty!" He speaketh, "What be thy name yon fatty?"
Yon fatty replieth: "I am knownst as King Leer. But what is in a name? Does not a nose by any other name not smell?"
Hamlet retorteth: "Thy scent and aroma maketh me wish for no nose at all"
"Nay, nay" King Leer sayeth apparently thinking himself a horse.
But what light through yonder doorway breaketh? It is the spirit of the laser pointy thingy...eth.
"Out! Out! Damn spot!" Yells Hamlet as he scurrieth across the floor vanquishing the scarlet pimple.
The curtain riseth to reveal Ophilia. (Jaq) Ophelia is lounging upon the balcony. "Hamlet, oh Hamlet! Wherefore art thy catnip mousie thingy?"
"If catnip mousie thingies be the food of love, play on my sweet" Hamlet sayeth.
"Catnip mousie thingies die many times before their deaths" Squeaketh Ophilia.
"Tis true, tis true" saideth our young hero, "But wouldn'st thou have a cheesy Danish Prince than a common cheese danish?"
Entereth Lady MacBeth (Tiger Lily)
"Alas poor yorkie! I knew him well!" she whineth, remembering a dog thingy she once met.
Hamlet realizing that the quality of mercy is not strained, but instead bent, folded and mutilated, striketh the lady down.
The striking of the Lady causeth King Leer to poofeth and bolteth from thy living room. Upon his exit he doth slay the last working lamp thingy. All that glitters is broken glass.
What's left is darkness.