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Posted on 05/10/2019 10:07:23 PM PDT by OddLane
Could The Author Have Been A Gay Trans Woman of Color?
We need to stop working, and navel gaze over this hypothetical, to cultivate and reinforce our enmity of cis hetero white masculinity, and the concept of America which we emotionally associate with our resentment of that.
That is how we can build strong commitment to tearing down the old order, and building a brighter future of whatever.
The Bacon hypothesis was the basis of the founding of American cryptanalysis.
I am William Shakespeare.
Thanks for posting the picture. Very sad.
She’d be pretty, perhaps even beautiful, if her head weren’t filled with hatred, irrational anger, arrogance, and leftist ideology. The filth pours out of ner mind through her face, and renders her visage demonic.
What fools these mortals be!
No, no and no again. And it ain’t Edward Devere, either. It’s Mr. Shakespeare - a genius - and that’s all there is to it.
I know ... that’s what Emilia Bassano wanted ... :)
Hey nonny, nonny.
He could have been a kangaroo or a wolf but he wasn’t. So what is your point?
The author was a transsexual woman, m*slim, Spanish-speaking, lesbian with peanut allergy.
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William Shakespeare (26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)
poet William Shakespeare #1 on top 500 poets Poet’s PagePoemsQuotesCommentsStatsE-BooksBiographyVideosShare on FacebookShare on Twitter
Poems by William Shakespeare : 4 / 403 « prev. poem next poem »
All The World’s A Stage - Poem by William Shakespeare
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All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
William Shakespeare
I’ve heard this cockamamie theory before. It’s like asking if Bigfoot is real. There’s no evidence for it.
Everything Shakespeare supposedly wrote was written by another guy with the same name.
Perfect.
No.
Getting paid by the word is like
writing you own paycheck.
He was a French transgender named Jacques-Pierre.
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Could have been me but it wasn’t, nor was it a woman.
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