How shall a man proceed, when he must begin to do so without the aid of his father? That was Hamlet’s challenge, and now it it ours.
We have learned that our orange-haired political father was betrayed when, sleeping in his orchard in Florida after four years of faithful service to the nation, the king’s brother Claudius, that is, the democrat party and quite a few republicans, rigged the electoral process to thwart his re-election, and then, not content with that foul achievement, assembled a few extra nails for their intended coffin by marrying Melania; I mean by prosecuting a baseless impeachment to bar him from rising from his political grave and running again. That is, Claudius poured poison into the porches of of the king’s ear. Here’s what the Ghost of King Trump of Denmark told his son:
Father’s Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.”
Hamlet: “Speak. I am bound to hear.”
Father’s Ghost: “So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.”
…I am thy father’s spirit,
Doom’d for a certain term to walk the night,
And for the day confin’d to fast in fires,
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purg’d away. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.”
Shakespeare, writing for us today,, knew 400 years ago to leave open the question of who committed the foul crimes that were done in my days of nature. Claudius the democrat committed them. And if President Trump could disclose all the confidential information he has no doubt amassed in office, it likely would indeed harrow up our souls, freeze our young blood, make our two eyes start from their spheres, and make our hairs stand on end like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
“But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
If thou didst ever thy dear father love-”
Hamlet: “O God!”
Father’s Ghost: “Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther.”
Hamlet: “Murther?”
Father’s Ghost: “Murther most foul, as in the best it is;
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.”
Hamlet: “Haste me to know’t, that I, with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.”
Father’s Ghost: “I find thee apt;
And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
Wouldst thou not stir in this….”
It’s always nice to receive your father’s approval, though Dad adds that Hamlet would have to be dumber than one of the weeds that rot on the wharf of the river Lethe, the river of the underworld, not to follow his simple story. The Ghost goes on:
Ghost: “…Now, Hamlet, hear.
‘Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,
A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death
Rankly abus’d. But know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father’s life
Now wears his crown.”
Forged! Forged! See? As in forged ballots! Shakespeare knew. It’s almost as if the Ghost of Nostradamus was whispering in his ear. You may know the scene, but let’s go on:
Hamlet: “O my prophetic soul! My uncle?”
Father’s Ghost: “Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts-
O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce!- won to his shameful lust
The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen.”
OK. Let’s drop the Melania bit. She wouldn’t touch Biden if she were wearing welders gloves. For the perfidious wife, Queen Gertrude, we’ll sub in the Lincoln Project, the senators who voted to convict Trump on the impeachment charges (the seven dwarves), Haley and McConnell. Yes. That’s better:
Ghost: “O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there,
From me, whose love was of that dignity
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage, and to decline
Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine!
But virtue, as it never will be mov’d,
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,
So lust, though to a radiant angel link’d,
Will sate itself in a celestial bed
And prey on garbage.”
That fits really well, if I say so myself. McConnell in particular needs to be booted from the leadership of the republican senate caucus. I called my senator. How about you? Here’s the famous murder scene:
Ghost: “But soft! methinks I scent the morning air.
Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,
My custom always of the afternoon,
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebona in a vial,
And in the porches of my ears did pour
The leperous distilment; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man
That swift as quicksilver it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body,
And with a sudden vigour it doth posset
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine;…
Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother’s hand
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch’d;…”
Hamlet. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!”
Father’s Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not.
