LARGETONY Blog

I’m assuming that pretty much everybody has seen that movie “Shakespeare In Love.” Even I have seen it, and I am like the last person to see any movie. If you have seen it, then you know how it’s about him using things from his life to write the script for “Romeo and Juliet.” If you haven’t seen it, then now you know. I have a theory that if “Romeo & Juliet” was about him falling in love, the “MacBeth” was about him spanking it.

I was doing some deeping cleaning the other day. Sort of early spring cleaning, where I was going through closets and boxes of old stuff to get rid of things I don’t need anymore. One of the things I came across was an old literature book from high school. I don’t know why I have it, because you’re supposed to turn those things in at the end of the year. No wonder the county schools are so strapped. Thugs like me are stealing books. At first I actually thought for a minute whether there was some place I could take it to return it. But it’s been over ten years, and I got my diploma, so obviously nobody missed it. Hell, maybe now I can actually read the stuff that’s in it, cause lord knows I barely did when I was in school. I liked to read, but I wasn’t all that into Shakespeare and Poe and “The Lottery.”…which is the stuff I found as I thumbed through the book the other day.

What I also found was an old handout about MacBeth. I don’t know if it was a quiz or a study sheet, but it had a list of famous quotes from the play that we were supposed to locate and write down what scene they were in. I have to admit that I had barely filled in my sheet, and to this day I don’t really know what MacBeth is about. I know that some witches do some psychic readings and somebody gets murdered, but the witches I know about because of Bugs Bunny, and somebody always gets murdered in Shakespeare.

So, I was looking over some of the quotes, and not knowing the context of the play (combined with the fact that I’m a horn dog) some of the lines sounded pretty dirty. Without knowing anything at all about the play, I have come to the conclusion that young Will was writing about masturbation…or at least jiggin’ it an awful lot while he was writing. I mean, look at that pcture. Where is his other hand?

Think about it. It’s a typical day, you’re going about your business, and something…maybe you check out a hot construction worker, maybe you see some hardbody eating a popsicle, or maybe it’s Tuesday…but something starts that familiar rumble down deep in your sack. (“Double, double, toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble.” )

You don’t really really think too much about it, at first. After all, you get that feeling a million times a day. It doesn’t always mean something. But you can’t help giving it a little pinch or tug. You’re real discreet about it. Don’t want to give anything away, just reminding yourself you’re a man. (”Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it.”)

But before long, you realize that this is the one that ain’t going away. You’re going to have to do something about that tightening in your nuts and the thickening of your semi. (“It is too full of the milk of human kindness.”) So full that you gotta find a place to have some privacy. So, you go off to the bathroom, your bedroom, the cab of your truck, behind a tree in the woods…somewhere. You get your britches open and your underpants down to your knees, so you can take hold of the situation. (“Is this a dagger I see before me, the handle toward my hand?”) That’s Will’s way of saying “Go for it, dawg. Beat that shit like it owes you money.”

So, there you are, whipping up a good batch, your mind throwing in some fantasies to help the process. Maybe you’re thinking about a nice deep throat (“There’s daggers in men’s smiles.” Shakespeare talks a lot about daggers. I wonder if he was really a homo. Again, look at the picture. That long slender pen up to his lips. That big fat candle in hands reach. Lord knows I love seeing my dagger in a man’s smile. Especially when that smile turns into sort of a grimace of surprise when I start hitting spots he didn’t know a man could.) Okay..deep breath, back on topic. Or maybe you’re a big bottom and your fantasy is about some power top pounding your brain out. (“Lay on, MacDuff”.)

All of this thought of daggers and laying gets you in a fury. You start picking up the pace (“Double, double, toil and trouble.”) The eyes are closed, the toes are clinching, you’re licking your upper lip…(“Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”)…you’re closer and closer…the abs start contracting and for at least fifteen seconds you can say you have a six pak…then you let her rip! (“By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes.”)

Sometimes, in the glow of the after-bust, you might feel a little guilty. Maybe from being so obsessed with your own penis that this was the fifth time today (and it’s only noon), maybe because you just yanked one off in the men’s room at Chuck E. Cheese with one of the other uncle’s during your nephew’s birthday party. But the guilt doesn’t last for long, cause you know that urge can strike you at any moment (and many moments) and “What’s done is done.”

Then comes the clean-up. Depending on where you are, it may not be as thorough as you like. Say you’re out in the woods, playing Johnny Appleseed, or some other place where you can’t get to running water. Or maybe you just zonked out right afterward. You might not get to wash your hands immediately. You wipe them off as good as you can, but there’s still that slight funk on your finger tips. You realize it when you absent-mindedly go to scratch your nose a few minutes later. You get that whiff. (“All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this hand.”)

The worst, of course, is when you have done all that clean-up after one of those big messy NASA launchings, thinking you’ve taken care of everything, then several hours later you see a dried up chunk of your would-have-been babies on the leg of your jeans or on the arm of your momma’s sofa. You don’t know if anybody has seen it, but you’re going to make damn sure no one else does. (”Out, damned spot!”)

I’m a little reluctant to ever try to read MacBeth, now. I have a feeling that it really doesn’t have as much to do with sexy things as I have imagined. Then I would just be disappointed. Maybe I should try reading “As You Like It” instead. I like the sound of that.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 7th, 2006 at 12:14 pm and is filed under dating and sex, humor, observations. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.