This has not been an easy piece to write, for it deals with a very odious category of people, those who are so unpleasant that, upon sight of them, many flee and hide. Are you such a person? Ah, you automatically declare “NO!” I assert, though, that you must study my words of sterling wisdom before you can be positive. Now let’s move on to today’s probing topic: How to tell when it’s time to work on your attitude and general demeanor. I proffer to you six ways you can tell:

(1) Just after you run a stop sign, yell obscenities out the window, and flip someone off, a cop stops you. The “Jesus is my Lord” and “Y’all have a great day” bumper stickers aroused strong suspicions that you were driving a stolen car.

(2) You overhear the kids you babysit begging their parents to let them stay: (A) with the  neighbor who stays drunk all the time, wanders around in a fog mumbling to herself, and just got out of prison or (B) at the local daycare they once went to daily, where the bigger kids (the ones with brass knucks) fought a lot over the little kids’ food and the owner sometimes called the police to restore order.

(3) The sight of you approaching can disperse a large crowd from the sidewalk or empty out the most popular restaurant in town in ten seconds flat—during lunch hour.

(4) Your own mama says she can’t go shopping with you because—well, she has a prior engagement… a headache… peas to shell… a hangnail… a feverish desire to watch “Lawrence Welk”… a very contagious illness…

(5) Your pastor—one of the godliest, most compassionate, peace-loving people alive— has a sore place on his tongue, from biting it, after every attempt to converse with you. (No, you won’t see his tongue—just him running in the other direction.)

(6) Your ninety-eight-year-old great-grandfather says it’s not a good time to come by because—uh, he’s going ice skating—and then mountain climbing… he can’t stand to miss a minute of “Dancing to the Oldies with Richard Simmons” reruns… he has to go to the gym to help some young guys with their power lifting… he needs to spend the evening alone looking for pictures and other mementoes you know he hasn’t looked at in fifty years…  

If you haven’t gotten the point by now, you must be really dull-witted. OOPS! So sorry! It’s terribly out of character for me to say things like that. I have to go now. I need to put some more bumper stickers on my car. 

Dear Mr. Shakespeare:

Sir, some are convinced that your wisdom and creative genius are unsurpassed; others believe someone else is writing those so-called masterpieces that bear your name. To point 2 above, I say “Sir Francis Bacon? Christopher Marlowe?” To point 1, I say “Baloney!”

I have waded through your most recent  bloodbath, Macbeth, which you recently proffered for publication. Having recovered from several nightmares about drowning in an ocean of blood, I am ready to respond.

Since I can’t address every weakness in this lurid “historical” drama, I will focus on specific areas of character and plot development and your reference to this play as ” historical.”  I’ll begin with the wildly unrealistic and shoddy development of your main character. Macbeth morphs practically overnight  into a rabid serial killer with a sword drawn for anyone who crosses his path. Why? It all starts when three witches predict kingship for him, and his wife then asks him to kill King Duncan. Princes stand between Macbeth and the throne, but —swayed by the words of four hags — he kills the ancient king, whose mutilated corpse becomes the first in an astronomical body count. By this point, you’ve added asinine reasoning to faulty character development.

Last, I will address the classification of Macbeth as a “historical”  tragedy. Historical? PUH-LEEASE! To say that most of this drama is historically inaccurate is an understatement. First of all, Duncan, whom you describe as an elderly, highly-respected, good king, was in reality a brash, young, arrogant, spoiled brat who served Scotland very poorly and whom Macbeth killed in battle (not while he slept). Also, Macbeth was not killed by Macduff, who did not then become king. Do I agree that the play is a tragedy? Well, it would be tragic if I agreed to publish it!

I relish the opportunity to do my part to save the world from Macbeth. It gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling. With this rejection, I offer sound advice concerning your future means of livelihood. Slaughterhouses are always looking for reliable workers. They offer only animals, but you would still get to see torrents of blood.

Honestly,

Ben Jonson
Senior Editor
Macduff Publishing