Homebaked Shakespeare

I hereby announce my paradigm-shifting theory on why it is we have next to no documents marking Shakespeare's time on this earth. Behold: shitmykidsruined.

INT. SHAKESPEARE'S BEDROOM —THE SHAKESPEARE HOMESTEAD—STRATFORD-UPON -AVON

HAMNET and JUDITH (age 6) run in.

Hamnet goes over to a pile of pages on his father's desk and picks them up. He turns to Judith, and she laughs. She grabs the papers and runs.

JUDITH

Last one to the outhouse is a rotten egg!

FADE TO BLACK

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Ask the Experts

Camp Letters from Juliet

July 28, 1594

Dear Mother and Father,

Camp Virginwood is a total, complete nightmare. I sobbed for the whole time we were at Mass this morning because I just felt so ALONE. Like no one understood me at all. Not even GOD. The other girls are SO annoying. When they FINALLY noticed I was crying, they were like “Oh, Juliet, let’s just go back to the dorm and talk about our arranged marriages!!!” And then I wept even harder so they would leave me alone. Then the counselor tried her bit and went “Oh, Juliet, I bet you’d look LOVELY with lavender in your hair on your wedding day.” I was like, “No, actually I’m NOT a conformist who just gets married to a guy because he’s rich and important and because my parents SAY SO!” That’s right. I actually said that. So then they got all freaked out, and I SO KNOW that the Sisters have already contacted you about all this.

That’s fine if no one here wants to be my friend because I believe in TRUE LOVE. That’s just fine because I SO don’t give a crap. I also don’t care if I’m kicked out of the camp (btw, I don’t CARE how much you spent on this shit, so please don’t start with that again).

The only reason that I’m writing to you is because my mood is MUCH, MUCH BETTER as of an hour ago. That was when I met Gary, the guy who runs the stables. I totally, totally relate to him, and I really don’t CARE what you think about that.

xoxoxoxo

your daughter,
Juliet

P.S. Archery is going pretty well

Magic Shake-Ball

Dear Magic Shake-Ball:

Yesterday I asked my husband to go to the "alcohol place" for some wine. I couldn't remember the name "liquor store." Is this it for me? Are they going to find me next month wandering into a bank in my underwear and asking to borrow a chicken?

Answer:

"I am not bound to please thee with my answers." (Merchant of Venice 4.1.65)

Response:

Come on, Shaky, I'm a big girl. I can take it.

Answer #2:

"abandon the society of this female, or, clown, thou perishest." (As You Like It 5.1.50-51)

Interpretation:

Well, first off, this is Touchstone the Clown talking to a character called William. So he's telling William (aka Shakespeare) to abandon me because I'm obviously toxic in some way. Probably because — at the rate my brain is shredding long-term and short-term memories— I'll be teaching my Fall Shakespeare students that Hamlet is a sandwich and Othello is a cookie.

Suburbs of Our Discontent

[Music of the hautboys as under the stage]

Fourth Soldier
Peace! what noise?

First Soldier
List, list!

Second Soldier
Hark!

First Soldier
Music i' the air.

Third Soldier
Under the earth.

Fourth Soldier
It signs well, does it not?

Third Soldier
No.

First Soldier
Peace, I say!
What should this mean?

Second Soldier
'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony loved,
Now leaves him.

(Antony and Cleopatra 4.3.12-17)

As some of you may remember, I buried a statue of St. Joseph in my side garden a while back in the hopes of getting some action on this house-selling thing. Well, you'll be shocked to here that St. J didn't bring out his mojo for me. So, I decided to re-bury him in the front garden instead, just under the "For Sale" sign, which (according to many "experts" on the Internet) is the correct placement.

I am a believer in all kinds of signs. Shakespeare never let his characters down without fair warning: music for Antony, horses eating each other for Macbeth, a snake dream for Hermia. And when he wanted to spread good news, he always made sure to send good weather or an angelic messenger. You just have to know where to find the signs and how to interpret them.

I look for them everywhere. Yesterday we had two house showings, and the Mariners were playing the Red Sox. This matters. It matters very much, because ever since I met my Seattle-bred husband I've been watching him get his heart broken by the Mariners. He's so hopeful at the start of every season, and by June he's swearing at them like a drunken sailor. Last night we were watching the game: The Mariners were down 2-1. Top of the ninth. It was looking like a typical crap-out game. I turned to him and said: "If the Mariners win this, we're getting an offer on the house." And then, a miracle happened.... the bases were loaded, the Mariners started doing strategic hitting, the Red Sox started making error after error, and ... THE MARINERS WON!

Now, I'm not saying we got an offer....yet. But I'm feeling hopeful. I've got Saint J in my front yard, and a Mariners victory in my back pocket. And--I'm just saying--80 degrees and no humidity. Stay tuned.

Homebaked Shakespeare

Hey, Dads . . . it's BBQ time!



If you like the book Sh*t My Father Says (or even if you don't), you'll dig our newest piece for Errant Parent: "Sh*t Shakespeare's Fathers Said."

Featuring special guest appearances by the Everyday Shakespeare husbands!

Read it right here.

Shakespeare at Large

Shakespeare and The Godfather: Who Knew?



A horse's head was recently dug up underneath the foundations of Shakespeare's home in Stratford (his fancy adult home--New Place). The area's being mined by archaeologists, as a first step to rebuilding the thing from the ground up.

It's possible the head is from the Victorian era, the last time the place got rebuilt, but I like to think that it's an earlier relic. The skull disintegrated as soon as it was touched, so evidently there's no way to find out.

One digger we talked to thought that the horse head was a leftover from some horse soup. Here's my theory: Shakespeare was experimenting with ideas for a new prop in a play that he never got to finish. So what if I have no evidence for this. So what.

We ourselves dug this up at the site (because they have a special area where visitors can sift through the dirt):




It's a nail. Maybe used for home maintainance. Or perhaps for another unwritten violent idea on Shakespeare's part? Hmm?