Friday, March 2, 2012

Shakespeare Was A Rich Guy's Bitch?

      William Shakespeare didn't write his shit. When you say something like that, it tends to draw a lot of flack. Particularly from uppity Shakespeare lovin' fruits! No, I'm kidding. I like Shakespeare and I'm fairly certain (as certain a person can be about a man that died almost 400 years ago can be) he wrote his material.

      Whether it's true or not, just saying it can be enough to send people into a fuming rage. The kind of rage that causes people to write long boring books. Literature nerd rage. As weak a rage as that is, it's still amazing its taken so seriously. They even made a halfway decent movie out of it. The debate about whether The Big Bad Bard actually wrote his stuff has gone on for...fucking ever. Unfortunately the ones bitching, which makes it unlikely for the rest of the world to eventually give a shit. Let's face it, people that argue over Shakespearean authorship, probably aren't socially dynamic personalities. Chances are, they're at home, at this moment, masturbating in quiet desperation and loneliness...into a book of Tennyson poems. Yet, the question still remains. Did Shakespeare write his shit or no? My real question is...why are we questioning if he did?

Pictured: Shakespeare penning his lost play 
"Cock: Lost in The Ass Palace of Pleasure"

      Understanding why anyone would question something as mundane and trivial Shakespeare's authorship, you have to understand something about people. People are dicks. Not totally, just some of humanity's toward achievement. We as humans have an innate tendency to loath any accomplishment that isn't ours. It's in our blood, right next to coffee addiction and loving the smell of gasoline. It seems petty and small but, it's still rife in our being. 

      Admitting that is hard. It's far easier to simply say, "I'm not a cock hole like that! I give credit where credit is due! I would never harbor secret animosity toward someone because of their accomplishment. You have a small dick, friend. SMALL!" The sad fact is that you are and have...and yes I do. You just didn't do it out loud. It's human nature to want to be the person who did the amazing thing or pulled off the awesome...whatever...that everyone is praising someone else for. It goes back to our basic survival instincts. You had to be the best to survive! The best at hunting, farming, beating animals senseless with blunt objects and cooking their succulent innards, were all factors toward the betterment of your existence. It also got you maaad pussy...or dick. Depending on whatever cave people craved. I'm guessing both.

If they all looked like this, they could have been 
boning woodland creatures 
and not have known the difference.

      Oh, look at you, all huffy and red. Listen, I'm not saying that all praises you heaped on other's accomplishments were shameful lies. A lot were valid and well conveyed with no animosity whatsoever. I'm sure of that, but, others gave you that twinge of  "I could have done that!" or "It's not all that great" animosity. It's not awful behavior or something to brood and beat yourself over, it just happens.

This brings us back to Shakespeare and his bullshit. 

      What leads so many illustrious intellectuals to discount Shakespeare, is the fact that he was the old English equivalent of poor white trash. It has been postulated that because Shakespeare was born, schooled and raised in such unsubstantial ways, he couldn't possibly author such astoundingly beautiful and complex work. Therefore, someone of a more substantial birth, education and class, must have done it and used Shakespeare as a stooge like facade with which to publish their work through. Tawdry work which may have tarnished their good name or somehow devalued their standing in society (i.e. ability to wear tights an still get laid). This, of course, is horse shit. Horse shit in a hand basket made of shit. Horse shit in a hand basket being enveloped by human shit being torched and mocked by equally smelly shit from questionable animals.  

Back tattooed shit!

      Shakespeare wrote his plays. There's numerous testimonies, witnesses and evidence confirming it. Questioning it seems irrelevant. So, why do it? It's not like it matters anyway. The Ballsy Bard Bastard died almost 400 years ago! Unless, someone steps forward to claim some kind of maniacally, insane 400 plus year back royalty copyright infringement, it seems like a dead sell. If he didn't write the stuff (which he did), then, who really benefits in proving he didn't? What's the point? Some asshole in a tweed jacket smoking a professor like, gets to say, "Nanny, nanny. I caught the dead bastard! Everyone clap for me! I'm a genius!"? That's asinine. Fuck that guy and everyone that looks like him. Going out of your way to prove someone, born to poor circumstances didn't have the where with all and intelligence to write beautiful things 400 years ago is the most retarded way possible. It's reeks of pretension and assholery. 

I'm an asshole!

      I hold true to the belief that anyone can accomplish anything. You just have to work really hard for it. Is this some highfalutin wishful thinking? Shit no. I hate wishful thinking. It's a waste of time that I could be spending on drug induced dead rock star interviews and throwing rocks at ducks. No, it's logical thinking. 

      People in general can accomplish whatever the want, because people before them already have. We are all built...relatively, the same. There are differences in our upbringing and social standing, of course. This might attribute advantages and disadvantages to achieving things. There's also the social climate and pressures of any given era that may hinder or excel things too, but, in general, if you're determined and talented, you can do what you want. Namely because people have done it before you and they will after you. 

      Remarkable writing, art, poetry, invention and the like have been created by people from all walks of life, throughout history. A lot of those remarkable things came about without a proper education or degrees. Saying you need them in order to make something epic or beautiful is absurd and hopelessly close minded. Perhaps, if those pricks, instead, realized that overcoming those purported handicaps, Shakespeare wrote something astounding. That in itself is beyond great and speaks volumes on what people can achieve. 

As a, somewhat, writer myself, I find it very hurtful that a bunch of nameless tweed jacketed jack offs, in anonymous universities, have taken to damning the work of a "commoner". I'm a poor piece of shit myself! Though I will never reach Shakespearean levels of authorship (the homemade alcohol won't let me...and the fact I'm borderline brain damaged), I find it repugnant that perhaps in 400 years, someone will find this post and claim I didn't write for them to fuck themselves. Which...of course, I clearly just did. 

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