On Wednesday, I linked to a breathtakingly lame video of some guy in a dorky squirrel costume rapping--yes rapping--an unforgivably corrupted version of William Wordsworth's beloved poem about daffodils. And now, I've come across a full "translation" of Hamlet into casual English. Is it supposed to be funny? The snippets I read didn't drag any laughs out of me, maybe because the daffodil rap left such a bad taste in my mouth. Or maybe I'm just depressed because it's tax day.
I'll copy a bit of it here so you can judge for yourselves whether this version of Hamlet is funny or just plain awful:
King: What are you so bummed about?
Hamlet: Who, me? Bummed?
Queen: Good Hamlet, stop wearing your mourning clothes and warm up to the new king. Your noble father is dead and buried. Everyone dies sooner or later.
Hamlet: Well, yeah, but...
Queen: So why does it seem that this is bothering you so terribly?
Hamlet: Seems? It is. It's not just my black clothes, sighs, crying, and downcast expression. I'm hurting even more inside.
King: Well, yeah, Hamlet, mourning is fine, but everybody's father dies eventually. So don't be stubborn and mope about. It's a sin to linger on this grief. Your father wouldn't want you to go on this way. Get over it. I'll give you this advice as your loving step father. Don't go back to school in Wittenburg. It's better for you to be home with your family when you're depressed.
Queen: Please, Hamlet, my son. I don't want you to go to Wittenburg, either.
Hamlet: Oh, all right. Fine. I guess I'll stay here.
King: Good. And well said, Gertrude, dearest.
Everyone but Hamlet leaves.
Hamlet: I wish this rotten body of mine would melt away, back to dust. I wish God hadn't forbidden suicide. How weary, stale, flat and worthless this life seems! Dammit, the world is like an unweeded, ruined garden. Everything is dumb and yucky. My father, an excellent king and a good husband, has only been dead two months. Mother used to cozy up to him lovingly as if their love grew stronger every day. But a month after his death... I don't even want to think about it! A little month! Before she wore out the shoes she had on when she walked behind his coffin. Any decent person would have mourned longer. And then she marries my uncle! My father's brother! But a much worse person than my father. A month! Almost before the red had faded from her eyes from weeping. How awful that she turned around and remarried so quickly. And it's especiallly icky 'cause it's basically incest! No good will come of this. But, much as it pains me, I just hold my tounge.
Ugh. Talk about dumb and yukky. And icky.
You people go ahead and laugh if you want. I'm going to take my bad attitude and go dig out my old receipts and get busy completing my Schedule C form.
