What a Piece of Work am I

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What a piece of work am I, how superior in reason, how
infinite in faculties, in form and moving how lithe and
sexy, in B-Ball how like a Laker, in moral superiority how like
a god (but not THAT God. That would be favoring Judeo-Christian values over Marxist statism. Screw you and your white God, capitalist pig. What? Fisherman’s prayer? Alright)! the beauty of my visage, the paragon of society—and yet,
to me, what is this quintessence of justice (and what does quintessence mean)? Republicans delight not me—
nor moderates neither, though by your voting you seem to say so.

My lord! There is so much … “stuff” in your thoughts.


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