Ann Coulter segues into Oxenforde

LOL. Bless the Internet. Let blood flow! Rhetorical blood staining the ethernets of the world. Actual violence is unfortunately the lot of mankind. Our Republican and patriotic vixen, Ann advocates public whipping as a lesson learnt, and true it does make the criminal harder.

Death, be it natural or no, is the only thing that will stop a career crim. Sick-fucks and sadists exist. Always have, always will. Each generation (we’re up to Gen Y apparently) has it’s share of feuds, hatreds and rivalries it is to inherit. Civilizations have risen and fallen on both sides of the political and philosophical fences, which divides American thinking.

Her motto for dealing with liberals includes the following: ‘don’t be defensive, always outrage the enemy, and never apologize to, compliment, or show graciousness to a Democrat’.

Substitute any group you wish to engage in argument instead of Democrat and the rhetorical battlefield is set. Oxfordians use these same principles, but then I suspect many Oxfordians are quite conservative, both big and little c, C.

I don’t believe Shakespeare ever killed anyone. This gut reaction is based on intuition and I possess no information to prove this was so. Oxford slaughtered a servant aged seventeen showing off for his fencing master from Italy. He got off too. Saviolo’s method is a one thrust kill. Maybe I’m being unkind, it could also have been an accident.

Whatever, the servant hopefully had a good last night out. His wife and daughter didn’t fare too well from the episode either. His death was ruled a suicide and as such, charitable treatment for his dependents was cancelled. But Oxford was an honorable lord, and I musn’t disparage his name. Not that he contested the verdict. But he was an honourable man.

I liked Oxford as Shakespeare until I started finding out about his upbringing. He was indeed an Artist too in his own right. Francis Meres mentions him alongside Shakespeare on several occasions in his 1598 work comparing living and dead Elizabethan writers to their long dead Greek and Roman counterparts.

If, and there is much mileage in your if, we go from the idea that Oxenforde as his name was spelt 90% of the time was bisexual and into theatre and literature and a right noble and honourable Lord, i don’t see any reason why when his company visited Stratford he had gloves made by the Stratford man’s father and seduced his son who delivered the order. Oxenforde had a house on the Avon didn’t he? The kid, William did have a literary bent after-all. And you would want to please a Lord wouldn’t you?

The kid knew his Ovid that’s for sure and sure enough Oxford had actually translated the Metamorphoses almost single-handedly at a precocious age. He’d ‘ve seen a spark from his own questing youth, obviously ignorant of the fact that this kid would go on to be the great and eternal William Shakespeare.

Oh how it must have stung when this bumpkin eventually wrote plays to Eliza, who he’d grown up with for heavens sake, and performed them at Court. Oxenforde had a position of privilege and squandered it. He was more Oscar Wilde than Shakespeare. Shakespeare the man was Sh. the Man and he didn’t want to be in the spotlight, he wanted to be the creator of magic and dreams. Read him for proof of that.

There’s absolutely no way Oxenforde could have socialised normally with his fellow players. That is the great social stigma the Oxymorons use to say that’s why he couldn’t admit to the works. But the naming as writer occurs with Meres, who would have no reason to equivocate or prevaricate on whether Shakespeare and Oxenforde were one or two persons.

Sh. is always mentioned in the company of his peers from 1593 to the end of his career in writing for the theatre. These peers cross the social spectrum and engage in printing, writing, acting, and performing for a paying audience. Most of the time. There are also the better gigs for another audience indoors. These would be few and far between before the Blackfriars theatre came along.

Any ways suffice to say, Oxenforde could not be ignored, but his glory years were in the 1580’s and in the nineties he begged Eliza unsuccessfully to give him the Tin Mining rights of Cornwall and Devon. He died a broken and lonely man any way you look at it. Sh. might well have used him as a model for King Lear, mad with despair at how wrong it had all turned out. We don’t even have a grave we can see, some little plot of land holds him merely.