A little something to get you through the last presentations of the semester, from Minneapolis poet & teacher, Gary Dop:
Shakespeare, the top American writer ever,
wrote his plays in an English accent
like Russell Crowe. “Merchant of Venice”
is a problem play because it’s about hard crap
like racism and the civil rights movement,
but not Martin Luther King who was southern
and not in Boston like the bard,
which’s Willie’s nick name. People call me
Slash. Al Pacino’s a character in the movie
adapted by Shakespeare just like the play,
except Shakespeare liked boys
to play girls, and no girls were allowed
in his theaters all over the globe. Even girl parts
like the chick who looks like Cate Blanchett,
who dresses like a boy — like Cate did
when she played Bob Dylan — that girl’s named
after the car, Portia, to indicate she’s wealthy —
even those girls were boys, but nobody was gay
back then — no offense. The Shylock wants
a pound of Jeremy Irons to pay for his sins
because Jews are going to hell
according to the Angel-Kind church, which is like
Catholics but their Pope gets divorced.
Queen Elizabeth, who still isn’t dead,
banished the Jews. During the Holocaust
Hitler killed 6 million Jews. Israel was founded
in 1948. One scholar, Ilikeitlikethat74
on Cheatpapers.com, suggested that Shakespeare
was racist and hired a ghost writer.
Build to a passionate close — oops,
I wasn’t supposed to — that was my notes.
So we can learn much intelligence
from “Merchant” even if we don’t know Jews
and we don’t like Christians. In conclusion
a quote from Pacino, who starred
in Scarface and he was the devil
in that one with Keanu Reeves: “I am a Jew.
Hath not a Jew hands.” I’ll skip ahead
to stay under time. “If you prick us,
do we not bleed?” It’s like, If you tickle us,
do we not laugh? In conclusion, you grasp
that Shakespeare is patriotic
and would have stood on the white cliffs
of Dover, Georgia with Dr. King.
Incidentally, I used to think pieces like this, or Richard Lederer’s classic, often-plagiarized-and/or-forwarded “Brief History of the World,” (Sir Francis Drake circumcising the world with a 100-foot clipper, and other eras from the anals of history) had to be put-ons. It was easier to believe that one clever guy could invent a hilarious tour de force of misunderstandings or malapropisms than that a steady tour of ordinary students could each contribute their own bit of farce.
I’ve been teaching long enough to believe both now: Some teachers are creative geniuses, and most students have genuinely boneheaded moments. Put those together and, well, way to go, Gary!