January 31, 2005

The Shakespeare Code

It's one thing to play volleyball on the internet with the supposition that the Bard had some Irksome Syphilitic Nastiness. Historical perhapsedness will always waft across the grid, I suppose. And then it's perfectly understandable when speculation might suggest that certain parts of the canon attributed for centuries to one William Shakespeare of Statford-upon-Avon, might really have been written by one or another of his contemporaries.

Fair Enough. Really anything that took place in the mean streets of Jolly Olde England over four-hundred years ago is up for a little interpretation.

Remember the "Paul is dead" craze? Of course you don't. There are books about it, though, in the "If-you-are-over-40-you-might-find-this-interesting" Section.

In the late 60's and early 70's, entirely pre-dating any of the silly speculation that Jim Morrison faked his demise, or that Elvis is actually a tour guide at the Carlsbad Caverns, or that John Kerry is the guy who played Herman Munster, there floated the really entiiiiiiirely believable rumor that Paul McCartney was shredded in a car accident in 1966. The highly likely theory suggests that since then, Paul's conveniently available, and equally left-handed, doppleganger has stepped in and filled our hearts with "Let It Be", "Blackbird", and of course, silly love songs. I only bring it up because, well, I just thought of it for some reason, but also because I'm wondering whether a bunch of 30-year-olds were wandering around 1625 England whispering that Shakespeare had really just been fronting for someone else, who strangely enough wouldn't be caught dead writing Sonnets and Plays. Read Ye This.

And then there's the good stuff. The outright "Shakespeare never existed" stuff. The "Shakespeare-was-just-a-bit-actor-who-clipped-magnificent-shrubberies-for-the-Hawthornshire-family-but-couldn't-rhyme-if-his-life-depended-on-it" stuff.

This Stuff.

If you've got a few hours to kill, you've got a couple theories to parse! Me, I don't have a single second free, what with all these Sonnets I'm working on. Curse thee, word.

Anybody got an Iambic Pentameter Meter I can borrow?


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