One Year Later...

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, friends and enemies, Dr. Who fans and people who don’t like cool sci-fi shows about time traveling aliens and thus don’t like fun... welcome to either the last post of Bad Shakespeare’s first year, or the first post of Bad Shakespeare’s second year. It’s all about perspective. Either way, welcome to this post. For those of you just joining us, welcome. For those of you that stuck with it for the year, thank you.

    It’s tempting on birthdays, anniversaries, or just in general anything that we use to mark the passage of time, to look back. I’ve fallen into this trap plenty of times. The thing is, looking back isn’t always healthy, particularly if you’ve had a year like mine. While there has been some good, there has been some bad, and I find myself back closer to square one than I would like. Which sucks, because square one is really the only numbered square we like to talk about. Most setbacks don’t take us back to Park Place, or Reading Railroad, and there’s rarely a chance at the community chest. Plus, I promised all of you that this was not going to be a downer. This is a celebratory post! I’ve stuck with this blog for over a year and over 150 posts! I get more views now in four days than I did the entire first two months that Bad Shakespeare existed. That’s something to celebrate.

    So rather than dwell on what I’ve already talked about, let’s start talking about the future! (That line is so much better if you read it in Doc Brown’s voice. “Marty, we’re talking about the future!”) And I don’t just mean a future filled with evil wizard overlords who pul us all into human zoos and circuses so we can perform our mortal tricks for their amusement. I’m not even talking about the future of me, where I’m planning on being a teacher, and possibly Spider-man, if I could get just one radioactive spider to live long enough to bite me.

    No, ladies and gents... I’m talking about the future of.. Bad Shakespeare.

    For you see, I recently went out to Godaddy.com, which I noticed because it has all the commercials which either exploit women, or feature hot chicks (perspective, people.) and I made a little purchase. You all are reading a post by the man who now owns Badshakespeare.com. No one, not even the people who sold it to me, could believe that it was for sale. But it is. I own it.

    Right now, it’s little more than a collection of screens letting you know that someone has purchased it. The plan is by December, to move badshakespeare.blogspot.com to it’s new home at Badshakespeare.com.

    “But wait,” you’re saying, “a whole website dedicated to nothing more than your blog? You’re mad! MAD I TELL YOU! Isn’t that a lot of money for just someone who wants to blog about being a teacher?”

    I appreciate the compliment in saying that I’m as crazy as Tesla after a few too many cocktails.

    “We didn’t say that, we just said you were crazy.”

    Meh. I take compliments where I can find them. You’re right, I’m not dedicating Badshakespeare.com to just my blog, which while amusing isn’t amusing enough to carry everyone’s attention. My plan is to bring in other aspiring writers, and set up other blogs, and hopefully serialized stories, and other opportunities. You see, this year I’ve also attempted to make the leap into doing more writing, submitting my stuff. It just hasn’t taken. So i want to use Badshakespeare.com as an opportunity for aspiring writers to get their stuff out there. I’m starting with this blog, and a serialized story I’ve been working on for about 10 years now, but never did anything with. I may have some more people on board after some meetings.

    “That sounds groovy. What about me?”

    This is still in it’s early planning stages right now. When I can open it up, people can submit their work, we’ll go over it, and eventually I hope that Bad Shakespeare can be a voice for aspiring writers.

    But again, let me stress, this is being planned right now. We’ll eventually get to it, and you can follow this progress on the blog while I do it. But I’m very excited about this prospect right now.

    “Wow.”

    I know. It’s exciting isn’t it?

    The other, equally as exciting announcement involves my logo. My logo was created a year ago by my talented mother, Maria Hock, who has supported me a lot. And it’s a cool logo. Which is why we’ve been working on getting the logo on a shirt, which should be available on Cafepress.com by the end of the month! Wear your Bad Shakespeare pride on your body, on your mugs, or on your head!

    What else does the future hold? I certainly hope it involves benevolent robot servants and a type of cheeseburger that helps you lose weight. But, who knows? The future is a fickle place. But I do know you can help by sharing the Bad Shakespeare Blog with your friends. You can help by continuing to read.  You can help by liking Bad Shakespeare on Facebook. (And eventually all the other social media Bad Shakespeare is about to be on.) And you can help by commenting, and keep the support coming.

    This post is getting long, but I really wanted to thank each and every one of you for your support this year. Blogging is something new for me. But I enjoy writing. And I’ve enjoyed your feedback. You’ve helped me through the darker times, and I’m glad that you’ve been there to enjoy the happy times. I’m glad you were there to share all the Nicolas Cage and Star Wars references. And of course there’s the fact that I’m a toddler, and if you find something funny I’m going to keep doing it. But thank you. All of you from the bottom of my Shakespeare-like goatee.

    That’s a wrap on year one. Let’s go kick year two in the head.

The Time-Traveler's Lament

                Sometimes as a writing warmup, I write whatever stupid thing i feel like writing because it makes me laugh. It's not always "good" but it's a warmup, and i don't stifle myself during the warmup. This one turned out kind of funny, so I saved it to post today, on the fourth day of Anniversaganza. Enjoy!

                Jim and Brenda slowly opened their eyes. As much as they wanted to watch the trip in front of them, the bright flash was too much, and they had to shield them. Just as technician Ted had predicted. They called him Tech Ted. However, Tech Ted’s name was Bob, but somewhere along the line Brenda had referred to him as Tech Ted, and it stuck. The debate was on whether she was joking or she had forgotten his real name.

                Once their eyes adjusted, they began to examine their surroundings. It looked as if the time machine had worked. Brenda and Jim were no longer staring at the cold metal confines of their laboratory in 2015, they were now on a very important date.

                “We did it!” Brenda said excitedly, “we’re here! We get to watch a piece of history!!”

                Jim held up his hand and fiddled with the watch Tech Ted had given him before he left, “Tech Ted,” he said into the device, “Can you hear us?”

                A disappointed voice came over the watch, “it worked?”

                “You tell us. When are we?” he said, emphasizing the “when” as he practiced many times.

                Tech Ted let out an audible sigh, “The date is November 19^th 1863 and you’re currently at the Soldier’s National Cemetery. Enjoy the Address.”

                “Which address?” Brenda said, grabbing Jim’s arm.

                “The Gettysburg Address,” Tech Ted replied, wondering if he’d be arrested for kidnapping or murder if he didn’t press the sequence of buttons to get them home. “I’m out.”

                Brenda and Jim looked at each other gleefully, then slowly walked through a set of trees and towards a grassy hill. The air smelled… different. It certainly hadn’t been saturated with chemicals. They were so excited they didn’t notice they were being stared at by just about everyone who noticed that their clothes were just slightly out of style, and extremely clean.

                “I can’t believe we did it!” Jim said, “we managed to time travel!”

                “We’re going to get a Nobel for this!”

                “Forget Nobel, they’ll name countries after us!”

                “Fame… fortune… we can go anywhen in the world we want!” Brenda hadn’t rehearsed hers as long as Jim had, but was proud of it nonetheless.

As the pair continued to the spot where Lincoln would be giving his address, Jim couldn’t help but pull out his phone to take one quick picture. Brenda helped him glance around conspiratorially and he quickly snapped a few shots, the last one setting off the flash. After a moment of panic looking, they figured no one had seen.

“That was close,” Brenda said, “You can’t do anything to disrupt the time stream!” she said the last part because it sounded cool in movies.

“I know, I just couldn’t resist,” Jim replied. “It’s just something for posterity. History will want to know about our trip!”

“Jim!” Brenda hissed.

“They’ll remember you, too, I’m sure,” Jim replied, admiring the photos on his phone.

“NO, JIM, LOOK!” Brenda hissed again, pulling Jim’s arm.

That was when Jim saw him. A tall black man, wearing a dirty Union uniform standing next to them, staring angrily at Jim’s phone.

“Let me handle this,” Jim replied, “sir, we are not witches. I did not steal your soul with my magic glowing device. No, sir, this is science.”

“I know it’s science you moron. If you’re going to mess up and bring out a cell phone into 1963, you should at least do it more subtly,” the man said, pulling the phone out of Jim’s hand. “Wait, what’s this? You’re from 2015?”

“Yes,” Brenda shook her head.

“No, way! Dude, I’m from 2012. My name’s Marcus,” he held out his hand.

“Time travel was invented in 2012?” Brenda said.

“Yeah, I’m a scientist for a small company in Idaho that was working on it as part of DoD research. We found a way to do it with Jet Engines. How about you?” Marcus replied.

Brenda and Jim stared at each other.

“We used solar energy,” Brenda said shakily.

“Aw, man, we tried that but couldn’t stabilize it. Hold on,” Marcus turned to a blonde woman in a large hoop skirt, “Katie! Katie, guess what? These guys are from 2015!”

Katie walked over, “Time travel was invented in 2012, and then again in 2015? Now you’re just trying to make me feel bad.”

“When are you from?” Brenda said, the time travel pun novelty now wearing off.

“2020. Most of humanity was taken over by the robots, so I tried to escape to the past to prevent it. Killing Lincoln is the only way to do that.”

Jim and Brenda stared at her in horror. Marcus and Katie started laughing.

“She tells everyone that,” Marcus said, covering his mouth.

“Yeah. Actually some friends of mine and I are back here for Spring Break. We’re all history majors so we get extra credit for coming back and watching.”

She gestured over to a large group of young people, easily in college. Most of them had half-assed their way into a costume, and at least four of them were taking video with their cell phones. Even in the past, some things never changed.

“what… about… the time stream?” Jim said.

“What about it?” Katie replied. She started skipping over to her friends.

“There were only like, four people at the original Gettysburg Address,” Marcus said, “People were bored of political speeches even back then.”

Jim looked out at the large group of people, “So then…”

“Yep.”

“How many of them are from before 2015?” Brenda asked.

“I think 1975 is the earliest, but I’m fairly certain that one was an accident,” Marcus replied. “Hey, I have to go, I’m going to miss my favorite part!”

“Favorite part? Like you saw on a Holo-recording or something” Brenda said hopefully.

“Naw, I’ve been back to see this, like, four times. I’m waiting for myself over there.” Sure enough, four other Marcuses were standing there, waiting to be joined by the fifth. He started to walk over. “But you’re more than welcome to join us.”

Jim sighed and started to slowly turn around. Brenda put her arm around him. They started to make their way back to the coordinates to be picked up by Tech Ted, unaware that he’d decided that he had enough abuse, and they could learn to enjoy a few extra hours in the past. As they walked, there was a bright flash of light, and a man in full Victorian garb stood in front of them.

“Greetings, world of the future!” the man said, “I’m Cornelius, I’ve travelled from 1833!”

“Shut up,” Jim replied.

“Hmph.” Cornelius replied, “Is everyone in the future so rude?”

Mark Twain's Version of Star Wars Would Have Been Awesome.

Welcome to Day Three of the Bad Shakespeare Anniversaganza!

    Back when I started these posts, I had intended to simply chronicle my adventures as I study to be a teacher, or possibly Spider-man. Hundreds of radioactive spider-bites later, I’ve decided on the latter.

    Your little behind the scenes fact is that when I started writing Bad Shakespeare, I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go with it. Yes, I wanted to somewhat cover my journey. It’s a pretty well done journey, and despite setbacks, it’s a standard journey. I’m taking the same classes as everyone else, etc.  But studying to be a teacher isn’t easy. You have to relearn a lot, and then you have to learn even more about why you’re relearning everything. Remember every time you asked, “When am I going to use this?” Well, if you’re going to be a teacher, that’s when you have to learn this.
   
    Or a time traveler who’s job it is to place these important lessons of literature into the minds of the people who are supposed to write them. That’s a very important job. If you get that job, see if you can fit at least one Star Wars reference into something written by Mark Twain. I bet if he had lived, he would have loved Star Wars. But those two jobs, that’s when you’ll have to use what you’ve learned in High School.

    But what I’m learning (other than Mark Twain would have written an awesome version of Star Wars) is that this journey is unique to me. I don’t know that I could have really appreciated this if I hadn’t been writing it down, and hadn’t been taking this journey with all of you, my readers.

Down with Failure. Up with Cow and Boy!

   

Welcome to post number two for this week’s Bad Shakespeare First Birthday Anniversaganza.

    I talk a lot about failure on this blog. More than I’d like, because I want to be a positive force for getting back on that horse and riding it over the cliff again, because I seem to have an unlimited number of horses. I also have spoken before about a great love of mine, the twisted (now web-based) comic “Cow and Boy” which now resides as www.cowandboy.com. You should be reading it. In fact, if you’re not reading it now, the robots have already won.

    I bring this up because “Cow and Boy” needs help again. As a newly minted, newly started web comic, it needs an influx of readers. A few weeks ago, Mark Leiknes was promoting his new book “Back When We Were Bloopy” which is the bloopiest collection of comics ever, and he noted that he didn’t get as many orders as he hoped, and was going to have to cut back on the number of times “Cow and Boy” was published. It made me disappointed to see. The comic is funny, it’s pretty original, and it’s creator didn’t die centuries ago only to have newspapers constantly airing reruns and slapping “classic” on the page. So why aren’t more people reading it?

    Probably because it is original, and originality scares people. People want the familiar. They want a cat to hate Mondays despite the fact that he doesn’t have a job. They want that football to be pulled away. They don’t necessarily want a kid to be hit in the head with a cat-copter so much.

    Anyway, as someone who is going through a failing streak right now, I can empathize with Mr. Leiknes. It sucks to see something you love go down the tubes. So, Today’s mini-post in keeping with the Anniversganza, and things I love or have learned, I’m directing to you once again to www.cowandboy.com, and to get the word out so more eyeballs get onto that page, and we can start getting more adventures of Cow and her buddy Billy.

    Tell’em Michael sent you. It won’t mean anything. And I have no affiliation with them. In fact their really isn’t anyone there to tell. Just go read it, and try not to laugh.

Roger Ebert was my Yoda

Welcome, everyone to Bad Shakespeare’s Anniversaganza Week. All week, I’m going to be blogging smaller posts that, in addition to leading up to Saturday’s big announcement, really gets to the heart of what Bad Shakespeare is all about, and helps with some life lessons. Strap in, afix your jaw to the “stunned silence” position, and prepare to be amazed.

    For today’s post, I’m going to spend a moment to eulogize the great Roger Ebert. I’m the one billionth person to do this, so I’m not going to cover any different or great ground in doing this. I want to talk about the personal reason I feel Roger Ebert is one of the greatest men in the world, aside from the fact that he found the best excuse ever to not have to review the sixth installment of the Fast and the Furious franchise.

    Roger Ebert loved movies.

    You got that, movie critics of today? Roger Ebert loved movies. He was unabashedly a movie fan. And you know what? That’s what we need in life. Too often movie reviewers (and reviewers of every kind) look for the great new prestige piece. We wouldn’t understand why this movie is great, as we are the commoners, while them with their fancy film degrees understand art. I remember people being up in arms when one of my favorite websites, the Onion’s AV Club, gave A Very Harold And Kumar Christmas a great review. Their response was along the lines of “It wasn’t Citizen Kane. But it did make us laugh. And that’s what it set out to do.” Because they enjoyed the movie. This also happened when Slate.com reviewed Les Miserables and chose a reviewer that started their review with "I don't like musicals." Then you've told us all you need to know about your opinion right there: you're taking yourself too seriously.

    Roger Ebert very famously panned the movie North, a disaster of such Cagian proportions it forced it’s actors Elijah Wood and Bruce Willis to never act again, and derailed what could have been the promising film career of Scarlett Johansson. (citation needed.)  The writer, Alan Zweibel, was on a talk show a few years ago, and pulled out the review that he keeps with him. Because he understood. Roger Ebert wasn’t trashing the movie coming from some high and mighty role. He was doing it from a movie fan’s perspective, and he just didn’t enjoy the movie. (Alan Zweibel would go on to write a book I reviewed for Bad Shakespeare, and one of the reasons I enjoyed it was the fact that it really seemed like Alan Zweibel enjoyed writing it.)

    Why is all this important? Because Roger Ebert wasn’t full of himself. He understood what he did. He watched and reviewed movies. He did something all of us need to do: enjoy things for what they are. Not everything is “the best.” Sometimes, something is good because we like it. Sometimes, we should enjoy ourselves, and not take anything too seriously.

    So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to listen to my Russell Crowe albums, which I enjoy.

    So we bid adieu to Mr. Ebert as he goes to Heaven to review God’s personal movies, including “The Flood” which I’m sure Mr. Ebert would say that it started ok, but it went on a little too long. And I hope that I’m there when the conclave of movie reviewers visits the former Mann’s Chinese Theatre to elect the next Siskel and Ebert. They’ll send an intern out with a thumbs one once they are done.