chuntcockula

Friends, Humans, Countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to mock Bush, not to praise him.
For Bush is an honorable man;
So are they all; all honorable men


Soliloquy 3/18/03

To kill or be killed: that is the question:
Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous neighbors;
Or to take arms across the sea to trouble,
And by opposing end them? To kill for peace;
No more; and by a peace to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To peace: to sleep;
To sleep: perchance, to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of peace what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off our moral foil,
Must give us cause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so longs life!
For those who bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When we ourselves might his quietus make
With a bared bodkin! Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the fear of someone after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
Two travellers return, puzzles the will
And makes us rather dare those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus Conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution 1441
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And Enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their purpose turn awry,
And lose the name of Valid!

Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And bombin shall restore amends.