Hatin' Through the Ages
...I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me: no, nor woman neither...
And you know what? I fucking hate Shakespeare.
I particularly hate modern takes on Shakespeare. Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo and Juliet should be balled up, stuck in a cannon and shot up his arse. Kenneth Branagh should have all four hours of 65mm film from his epic Hamlet stapled to the insides of his eyelids. The screenplay for 1995's Richard III should be rolled tight and used to beat Ian McKellen to death. And that new Levi’s ad should be shoved down Mel Gibson’s pants and burned. Like I said, I'm no fan, but seeing, under writing credits:
"William Shakespeare and Sir Ian McKellan"
makes me fucking sick. Why? Because McKellen, Branagh, Luhrmann et al are fans. Fawning drooling masturbating fans. Cunts.
Still, Shakespeare really had it going there, if only for a second or two.