The Impossible Guide to the Galaxy: MONEY

Oh how I have been anticipating releasing this! Other than the music, this video is all me, from the writing to the voice work to the animation to even the custom software that actually runs the animations!

I am especially interested in what the locals might think of this, as it seems like it might be the sort of cynical humor that slots nicely into the worldview around here.

Sunday Fakespeare: The Breakers of Spirit

Shakespeare's WardRHYS
Hail Gol-Goroth, hail Lord of Ruin dire!
We greet you with a great respect and awe.
But hark, we bear a vital message for
your great and august self. Our country dear,
fair York, its folk and King, hath sent us hence
and in their name, now hear ye this: depart!
Forthwith, go, quit this place anon, and cease
your magics fell and dark. Begone at once,
to whatsoever land or eldritch place
from whence you came’st, or else some isle remote
as you prefer – but go, and go at once.

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Sunday Fakespeare: Ipsos Custodes

Shakespeare's WardA couple of years back I helped write an interactivetheatre piece based on ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. We found out I have a talent for the old Elizabethean iambic pentameter, and – inspired from also being involved with productions of “William Shakespeare’s The Empire Striketh Back” around the same time – I started doing a silly fun thing which I will share on some Sundays here: converting famous moments from pop culture into Shakespeare! See if you can recognize it, some are easier than others.

Upon this morn, the roadway’s neatness soiled
for there in woeful state the carcass of
a hunting hound was laid, its lights drawn forth
by carriage passage cruel, tale told by
a wheel’s trace writ in blood. This borough fears
my step, reviles anon my comp’ny, for
’tis I who has its truest visage seen.
Its coachways are in truth but poison’d troughs,
these troughs replete with sickened borough’s blood;
the ditches shall in time coagulate
and in the flowing gore shall vermin drown.
The rot and filth, the refuse born of sin
of fornication vile and murder foul,
shall burble forth above their darksome loins
and then the whores, the kings, the sinners all
shall turn their yellow mien to heaven high
and in their terror shriek “Have mercy, lord,
and set us free!”, and I shall whisper… “Nay.”