If I’ve never revealed this before brace for impact (and for a lawsuit, I suspect, from those litigious foreign persons, Monty Python). I wrote all of Shakespeare’s plays and my wife and I wrote all of his sonnets.
Do NOT start digging out birth certificates and records of first public performances, and counting on fingers and toes and pointing at the calendar because I don’t care what you think or say; your truth does not further my narrative and so I choose to believe otherwise.
If you think I’m crazy, I’m in good company; hell, I’m in great company.
One of the (many) folks contending for the Presidential nomination of one of the (two) major parties is already on record with a growing up and coming of age that was “gangsta” before the term was ever used, much less air quoted (“…a pathological temper threatened to put him in jail…”) as a life story of perfidy and violence, salvaged by Divine Intervention and Redemption.
It’s terrific stuff. Except, says one of the 24/7 cable news operators, no one can be located to verify any of it. Any. Of. It. But.Wait.There’s.More. Of course, it’s nothing more than yet more ‘gotcha journalism’ by that goldarned mainstream media I’ll bet.
I recall George Carlin doing a bit on his growing up years in the shadow of Columbia University in what he called “White Harlem,” because it certainly sounded “bad”, a lot rougher and cooler than what everyone else called it, which was “Morningside Heights.”
I grew up with an imaginary friend, Marty, who was my boon companion for many years. I raise that now, because in the event that Dr. Carson is elected President, I think the decades of my imaginary life should qualify me for an invite to one of the Inaugural Balls. Guess who I’ll be taking.