Pajiba

The local community college's drama dept used to do at least one Shakespeare play a year in their tiny little black box theater. One year they did A Midsummer's Night Dream only instead of setting it in Athens, Greece, they set it in modern day Athens, AL. Oberon wore coveralls with no shoes or shirt. Titania wore daisy dukes and no shoes. The Duke of Athens was the Sheriff. Shakespeare in exaggerated southern accents. I laughed my ass off.

This is going to be SO awesome. GAH!
But don't you go hatin' on JC. Actually, whatever. I hated that play more than anything else (excepting, of course, Jane Eyre) until we read it several weeks ago in my Shakespeare class. And to all you haters, I can now say with authority: it rules. And if you say otherwise, you clearly are missing the ocean of subtext hidden behind the world's second most boring plot (Jeebus, I hate Jane Eyre).

But I LOVE Henry V. And am now doing my happy dance.

I will watch this, if only to help cement the idea of Shakespeare-Sci-Fi amalgamations.

Next, King Lear as a space opera. Starring David Bowie (Lear), Tilda Swinton and Cate Blanchett (Reagan and Goneril), and Keira Knightley (Cordelia). We can even let Duncan Jones, Bowie's son, direct the thing. Who's with me?

D-Day, I think you've been hacked by Brian Blessed. . .siiiiiiiigh. . .again.

Since I cannot espy another earnest Son of Saint George to sully forth and illuminate us through well-intentioned Ad Lib,

I step forth, with no less determination in my heart than Pheidippides, so haste to spread the spirit of victory that it hath burned the yarns of his very fate.

Once more unto the breach, dear cyborgs, once more;
Or close the wall up with our 3ngl1sh deactivated.
In peace there's nothing so becomes an android
As modest programming and circuitry:
But when the blast of war blows in our audible sensors,
Then imitate the action of Grimlock;
Stiffen the hydraulics, summon up the energon,
Disguise fair nature with hard-programm'd rage;
Then lend the optic screen a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the processor of the hivemind
Like the brass rail gun; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth C-3P0
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base of operations,
Swill'd with the Borg and wasteful interwebs.
Now set the lightsabers and stretch the carbon fibers wide,
Hold hard the binary and Bender up every sin wave
To his full height. On, on, you noblest 3ngl1sh.
Whose nuclear fusions are fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Isaac Asimovs,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their Sentinels for lack of system BIOS:
Dishonour not your motherboards; now attest
That those whom you call'd previous downloadable versions did beget you.
Be copy now to sentient constructs of grosser metals,
And teach them how to war. And you, good T-1000,
Whose limbs were made in 3ngl2nd, show us here
The mettle of your positrons; let us beep-bop-beep
That you are worth your assemblies; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your peripheral cameras.
I see you stand like Cylons in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your OS, and upon this charge
Cry ‘Optimus for Harry, ED-209, and Saint Gort!'

jesus h. snozzberries. i would like to rent your brain for a week.

D-Day, that was Marvelous!