The phantom of the opera-l
La Cieca (not pictured) has been asked to spread the word that the Opera-L list is down due to the power outages in New Jersey where it is hosted. The latest information is that it is hoped to be up sometime Wednesday.
UPDATE: Opera-L is now operational again.
Amer – small sniff of casuistry here…
But point taken.
While you two sniff at each other in this preamble to the second War of the Noses, can I toss in a puzzle that has always fascinated me? From birth I’ve been bombarded with the symbiotic relationship of Shakespeare and Richard Burbage. But we know nothing of the little twink who inspired Beatrice, Rosalind, Viola, Portia, etc. And we KNOW it wasn’t Gwyneth Paltrow !
Betsy- There are six years between Merchant and Twelfth Night, so it probably wasn’t the same boy.I’ve always thought one of them must have been tall or had a growth spurt. Shakespeare was nothing if not practical and I like to think there was a practical as well as an aesthetic reason for Viola and Rosalind spending almost the entire play as men.
Yeah, but it’s kind of like the disappeareance of the Italian spinto (I typed “pinto” but corrected it; wish I had left it.) in our own time. There was that stretch during which his women were not powerless but instigating forces. Yikes! What wonderful ways to use estrogen, unmatched even today. In the three productions of “Much Ado” I’ve done, I could NEVER find an actress who could deliver “Kill Claudio” with all the power it demands. Then the line peters out (no pun intended) although we see glimpses of it maybe in Desdemona, but we end up with Miranda who is just Ophelia without the bloodshed.
BTW I acknowledge that in my dotage I am becoming more and more of a reductionist. I just don’t have the time left to think things through, and find sound bites much more provocative. As for research? Feh !
You’re right about that line of women (Helena in All’s Well, too). There was obviously a very ballsy young actor knocking around (pun utterly intended).
‘Kill Claudio’ is, I think, a gag, or more accurately a setup. Not on Beatrice’s part, obviously, but for the audience. ‘Come, bid me do anything for the/Kill Claudio/Ha, not for the world’ Rhythmically Benedick’s answer has to come in immediately and give the lie to his offer. And it’s just like Shakespeare to pull a trick like that at the tensest moment in the play.
In the midst of this OT banter, let’s acknowledge that Bill has posted an intelligent assessment. I withdraw all my ejaculations in his favor.
(“post,” “withdraw,” “ejaculation.” I’ve got to stop coming here. OMG, I did it again.)
Cara Betsy,
You’ve provoked an odd memory–of course, by now they’re all odd–but back in my totty days at St Mary’s, the nuns used to force us to fashion hand-made cards for Mother’s Day. Inside, we were told to write down our promises: something like 5 Rosaries (that should interest La Cieca), 10 Masses, and 100 Ejaculations. Some kids offered 1000. To Mom, with All My Love.
No one ever tittered or winked or murmured, “Comme c’est bizarre!”
You’ll think I’m pulling your lovely leg, ma è vero, lo giuro.
You can ejaculate along with me if you wish: “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”
Ms. Carlo, would you like to join my new set-up company, WTFMark Cards. Inspired by Pavel’s post (Birthday Partita, #4) it will forego the usual sentimental slop in favor of something that makes no sense at all. Like “Four Years Old Today!” with puppies and bunnies, and inside is the White Plains train schedule. Or for the Christian Ultra Right, “On Your Anniversary” with an obscure passage from Nehemiah inside. They don’t dare say WTF because that would intimate certain Scriptural passages don’t always apply in every case, so they would perish from lack of sleep trying to find the meaning.
Cara Betsy Darling,
I would join you in any enterprise, especially of an ejaculatory nature, but I’m afraid I’d erupt in giggles, spurt gleeful tears, squirt loud guffaws, and shoot loads of laughter whenever you opened your too hilarious mouth.
Gushingly, DC
PS Anent “obscure passages from Nehemiah,” your pleonasms provoke as much giddy pleasure as your provocative alliterations.
Dear Donna,
I was going to suggest you play Jizabella to my Moistafa. Aren’t you glad I decided not to?