Day Six - Project 5

Sunday, March 17

  Back from our trip, late bjournal entries done.  And it is time to start Love's Labour's Lost.

  Half an hour later...

  Really?  The writer synonymous with our language?  This?

  Five more minutes...

  Mary practically said she hated this, but then said I'd probably like it.

  Does Mary hate me?

  I mean, I like puns more than the next 8 year old or really silly grampa, but puns on slang have a half-life of...borrow from Warhol, carry the 2.... Seven and a half minutes.

  Puns don't last well.  If I left one in the fridge, it'd last a few months, then go stale, or rotten.

  The PLOT/PREMISE/EXCUSE FOR THIS PILE OF FANCY WRITING:

  A ruffed, He-man-Woman-hater's Club?  With books?  A book club.

  Remember the end of Bambi?  Bambi, Thumpy, and Stinky, or whatever, who the hell watches Bambi anymore, anyway?  The end, where the three boy animals are schooled in bein' "Twitterpated" (okay, I guess I remember a bit), and then each one sees a pretty girl of the appropriate species and takes off, leaving their friendship and promises of staying guy-pals forever and ever in the dust.  That's this freaking play.

  I hate this play.

  This play is dumb.

  I have only read a little bit.

  But it is stupid.  Big Stupid.

  Magnum Stupus.

  And I have to keep reading.

  -Mike