Listen, I'm not any sort of Shakespeare buff or anything like that. I fa real respect that the dude was ultra celebrated for his time, and he certainly used some flowery, fanciful language. He's hailed, or his memory is, or legend or whatever you want. And fine, with good enough reason.
Even so, I'm more into the contemporary pleasantries of my day regarding all that is literary. Namely, when comedians and/or musicians use words or phrases like "dang--that's jacked up, y'all!" in their finely crafted products of art. Don't know why, but employing such vernacular seems to find me on my level or something.
And yet, I think of Shakespeare today because he wrote that play called, "A Midsummer Night's Dream," and I can't get its premise out of my mind. I'll tell you why in good time. But first, to get you on a level, I'll sum it up in my own words using my own names and preferred ideas: basically, some magical elf with magical powers casts a spell upon a bunch of foolish people, and thus a good game of cat and mouse ensues involving matters of the heart. Check it out:
Dude called Joey is in love with girl called Zooey, who loves him back. Trouble is, Zooey's dad is like this king, Steve, and he forbids Zooey to be with Joey because instead, King Steve wants his daughter to marry this joker called Brad (mostly because of Brad's elevated status, blah blah blah). But Zooey thinks Brad is a douche bag. Thus, Zooey and Joey fix to flee into the woods one night to be married by Joey's witchy-type aunt Kathy, who apparently knows how to hook up a legal marriage.
Because all girls have to tell at least one other girl about every single thing they do or think or feel, Zooey confides in her pal-ette (a girl pal, not like a profuseness of colors or something), Jessica. By the way, Jessica used to kick it with Brad (meaning, she would get naked with him and they would say incredibly kinky things to each other while so doing), and she's still not totally over that. Jessica follows into the woods to offer her support to Zooey (maybe secretly wishing Brad will follow too).
Alas, complication supervenes, as the magical forest elves also have their own king. He's called King Jameson. Jameson gets a kick out of ordering his lieutenant commander elf, Elijah to put herbal potions on the eye lids of silly people so that they fall in love with people they wouldn't ordinarily love.
Thus, Elijah visits Joey in his sleep, and Joey ends up falling in love with Jessica. You'd think she'd be flattered by that outcome, but she's not, because the plot thickens. King Jameson learns that Elijah flubbed up because it was really Brad he was supposed to put the potion on. And so to correct his ways, Elijah potions Brad as well, and then wah wah wah, Brad loves Jessica too.
Well Brad and Joey are now comprising this cavalcade of crazed lovers over Jessica, and she goes hysterical with paranoia, because like really, who the heck can get one worthy dude interested in a sister, let alone two? So she's like, this can't be fa real, and why is everyone playing pranks on me, so on and so forth.
Meantime, Zooey is hyper to the core jealous. She's all, this is crap, I came out to the woods to woo my man into my arms for all of eternity (or like seven years max, if we're gonna be realistic about it), and now he and that douche bag dude I am supposed to marry, but don't really want to marry, are all up in Jessica's grill? Jessica isn't even that hot. She only does pilates like once a month, she's pudgy in the mid section. I do that jazz like five times a week. Ugh!
A bunch of chasing and hollering and all around jealousy-type fool behavior is transpiring next to this huge, enchanted tree filled with lilacs and cherry blossoms. And then the wind blows at the perfectly crispy springtime or fall time temperature, and it starts to rain flower petals. And King Jameson is like fine, enough is enough, I've been inspired by the beauty that is nature: put these simpletons out of their misery. Everyone: back to your normal crushes!
Well other stuff is happening with other elves and other magical dealings, but short story long as it goes with me: peace is restored. And Zooey somehow convinces her pappy, King Steve, to let her marry Joey. She does so by secretly telling the king she'll hire a bunch of hookers for his yearnings, and then do whatever must be done to hide all the shenanigans from the queen. Namaste and love: The End.
But other than this super good opportunity for me to put this here tale in my own words, why was I compelled to write about this premise? It goes like this:
I'm serious, I think that King Jameson dude really exists. I'm pretty sure he's sprinkling some sort of special Artesian salts into the hair of appealing dudes to get them to like every other girl but the girl that wants them.
If we take into consideration the pervading ails of today's world: namely, that there are more women than men on a population level, that women carry the need-to-perpetuate-the-race gene, and that females are generally more interested in long term relationships, or, at the very least: more interested in deep connections with others (particularly men), then I'd say the woman has a shorter straw than any dude.
And hence, it seems to me: a syndrome in the world has followed; and the syndrome totally thrives in Chicago. It's called, if I'm moderately attractive as a man, I am in ultra high demand, and so am not available, even to you, general, moderately attractive woman.
I used to be all, this is hooey! That's not fair for moderately appealing women because then all those chicks who want to hang out with appealing men are in chick-without-fun-times-with-dudes world.
But now I know the reason for this bs. Now I think it's all in King Jameson's hands. I bet that dude sprinkled that buggered salt into the hair follicles of like 20 guys I've really wanted to have sex with this year, in the interest of turning their heads away from me and onto any other girl (and yo, don't go thinking it's easy for me to find a dude I want to sleep with, but come on, a year is a long time, and we're talking about mostly all looks. If we were assessing dudes I've wanted to sleep with this year based on their personalities alone, I'd say it was more like four dudes. Personalities AND looks, maybe two).
ANYWAY: unfortunately then, the salt was also sprinkled into the hair of this one dude I work with in favor of resting his eye upon yours truly. We'll call him Barney. He's not a dinosaur, he's actually a human. But not an attractive human. His hygiene is relatively low, and I'd gather he showers seldom. To boot, I try to gauge his age, but I'm guessing it's lower than I'd peg, because years are unkind to a person who doesn't shower or eat well or generally educate himself or attempt to preserve his age (drinking on the job is always discouraged for that type of goal).
Trouble is, Barney recently asked me to go out with him. So I guess, because of that crusty king and his crusty salts, it's down to lots of lonely nights, or Barney. Bollucks to you, King Jameson. And I'd like to punch you too, Shakespeare (maybe just lightly, in the arm--after all, you were smart as sugar).
Hugs and elf dust!
