To many, William Shakespeare is an antiquated hack. I certainly thought so, until I discovered how many common words he authored.
William Shakespeare. The warm fuzzy champion of the dwindling baby-boomer critic, the fuel that fires the laughable pedant theatre types who want to undress your partner. In 2020, it’s what his legacy boils down to. He’s circumstantial.
And fair enough I say. Despite the barefaced fronts, no one will lower themselves to admit they have no idea what the Bard is rambling on about. Bill, it’s torture. Here, in the enlightened future, we like our things to make sense.
So, yes, Bill Shakespeare is an out-of-touch pantaloon-wearing hack, right?
The answer is a deafening no. He created over 2,200 words. In itself, a monumental achievement. Everyday words too, like swagger or mountaineer. A list so complete, even lesser writers can use his creations to besmirch him.
You’ve made me rant this, you make me feel worthless.
I wish I could eye-ball you, the cold-blooded manager of fashionable countless works, the drawer of multitudinous packs, these new-fangled fans, disheartening our generation’s writers, making an assassin of ourselves, as we sit there uncomfortable; as we deal with the addiction you feed them from beyond the grave, as we mimic you in drugged discontent.
Years from now, we’ll be looking back on our lacklustre careers, jaded, frugal, bloodstained, laughably drinking skim milk out of luggage.
You impede us all.
Also, fair readers – you’ve probably figured out – all of Bill’s words are in bold italics.