Shakespeare Sunday

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. - William Shakespeare, The Tempest

  Because screw you Snowflakes, and your selfish desire for clean air, soil, and water!

Vote!

  Come on, it's not like our kids, or grandkids, need clean air to breathe! The sooner they learn that a healthy environment isn't just handed to them on a silver platter, the better off they'll be!

And, then there’s this...

The air is too clean? The air is TOO clean?!

A childish, narcissistic, sociopathic, pathological liar sits in the Oval Office... Congress wants to strip healthcare from millions of Americans... Regulations prohibiting corporations from polluting our water, air, and soil have been eased or eliminated... The Attorney General wants to increase the amount of asset forfeiture from innocent people... But, please, let’s flip out about the 13th Doctor being “female.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE! “Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air, And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.” - William Shakespeare (23 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)

“One clear night while the others slept, I climbed the stairs to the roof of the house and under a sky strewn with stars I gazed at the sea, at the spread of it, the rolling crests of it raked by the wind, becoming like bits of lace tossed in the air. I stood in the long whispering night, waiting for something, a sign, the approach of a distant light, and I imagined you coming closer, the dark waves of your hair mingling with the sea, and the dark became desire, and desire the arriving light. The nearness, the momentary warmth of you as I stood on that lonely height watching the slow swells of the sea break on the shore and turn briefly into glass and disappear... Why did I believe you would come out of nowhere? Why with all that the world offers would you come only because I was here?” - Mark Strand (born: 11 April 1934)

Shakespeare Sunday

True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

ManChildTrump wants to promote women's health, but wants to kill Planned Parenthood!

He wants to work for clean water and clean air, but wants to kill environmental regulation of corporations!

"One clear night while the others slept, I climbed the stairs to the roof of the house and under a sky strewn with stars I gazed at the sea, at the spread of it, the rolling crests of it raked by the wind, becoming like bits of lace tossed in the air. I stood in the long... whispering night, waiting for something, a sign, the approach of a distant light, and I imagined you coming closer, the dark waves of your hair mingling with the sea, and the dark became desire, and desire the arriving light. The nearness, the momentary warmth of you as I stood on that lonely height watching the slow swells of the sea break on the shore and turn briefly into glass and disappear... Why did I believe you would come out of nowhere? Why with all that the world offers would you come only because I was here?" - Mark Strand (died: 29 November 2014)

*FACEPALM*

Ah, Spring; when love is in the air; green, leafy things return to the Northern Hemisphere, and three inches of water cover the floor of my office...where I keep my thousand+ books, and my computer. :-(

Shakespeare Sunday

"I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes, Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south." - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet