misteries of the mindless

shakespeare sucks

         How would anyone enjoy a Shakespeare play? I wonder maybe it happens because the thing is so unbelievably boring, so damn dullest, then people go to see if all the alleged boredom holds up with facts.

         And they go, and they see, and all they can say after seeing the thing is that that’s all true, the last two, three, or even four hours spent by them in the theatre were, beyond any doubt, the longest, the lengthiest, the wordiest of their entire lives.

         But now what to do? Everybody is leaving the theatre with a smile in the face and a word of compliment in the lips, and not a single soul to acknowledge the simple truth, to candidly utter that all people’s smiles are because they reached the end of an ordeal alive and with no permanent harm, at least at first view.

         Let’s say the truth, Shakespeare sucks. The only way Shakespeare could be more deadening than Shakespeare was if his work came as an opera, and this, I bet, somebody already must have done, if you’re curious, because I’m not, go google and check it out. And, obviously, everybody who went to see that shakespearean opera came out the theatre pretending to be in a pure state of uttermost bliss.

         But you know, I know, even they know, all they could really feel is relief.

         Shakespeare simply sucks.