Macbeth makes a sandwich

Just got back from seeing Macbeth on Broadway. Spectacularly good production, and Macbeth is very clearly a Stalinist. Patrick Stewart was at least as good as I expected, and does fabulous work with props.

He decants the wine when talking to Lady Macbeth before plotting the first murder. Their relationship is very sexual but that diminishes as their thirst for blood and power takes over.



Banquo's death becomes a topic to discuss while making a sandwich; here's how he did it:

Macbeth, talking to the two murderers, takes a sandwich board out of the refrigerator.

The sandwich board has a loaf of rye, bread knife, mustard pot, dish of mayo, plate with sliced cheese, and spatulas for spreading.

MACBETH:

I did so, and went further, which is now
Our point of second meeting. Do you find
Your patience so predominant in your nature
That you can let this go?

Slices bread once.

Are you so gospell'd
To pray for this good man and for his issue,
Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave
And beggar'd yours for ever?

Slices bread again. Dips spatula on mayo.

First murderer:

We are men, my liege.

MACBETH:

Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men;

Speads mayo on one slice...

As hounds and greyhounds,

spreading...

mongrels, spaniels,

as he...

curs,
Shoughs,

goes along...

water-rugs and demi-wolves,

puts spreader back.

are clept

Uncovers the cheese ...

All by the name of dogs: the valued file

Distinguishes the swift,

picks up one slice...

the slow, the subtle,

puts it on the bread...

The housekeeper,

licks finger ...

the hunter, every one

picks up another slice of cheese, puts on top.

According to the gift which bounteous nature
Hath in him closed;

Spreads mayo on the other slice of bread

whereby he does receive
Particular addition. from the bill
That writes them all alike:

Puts another cheese slice on the first slice of bread

and so of men.
Now, if you have a station in the file,
Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say 't;
And I will put that business in your bosoms,

Spreads mustard on the cheese

Whose execution takes your enemy off,
Grapples you to the heart and love of us,

Places both slices of bread together

Who wear our health but sickly in his life,
Which in his death were perfect.

Slices the sandwich in half.

Walks in front of the table.

Both of you
Know

Takes a big bite and says with his mouth full,

Banquo

chews, swallows...

was your enemy.

By the time he slices the remaining half of the sandwich in half and gives each quarter to the murderers, Banquo's fate is sealed.

Later in the play, his conscience starts to catch up with him and after the intermission he can not touch his soup.

Of course the rest of the production will knock your socks off, but he had me at the sandwich.



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McCain's bearings: lost, not lost, and checked

Obama: "McCain has lost his bearings."


McCain: Bearings just fine, thanks:


Lieberman: "I just want to report that this morning I personally checked John McCain’s bearings. He has not lost any of them. They are all in really great shape."


Obama's been visiting 57 states:

Guam, Puerto Rico, the District of Columbia, Chicago's south side (which apparently has closed steel mills if you believe his wife), New York City, and the people's republic of Seattle.

Along with the state of confusion.

He probably stayed up late because of some 3 AM call.

His staff hasn't allowed him to visit Alaska and Hawaii, but I'm throwing those two just in the interest of fairness. After all, last week he didn't know what month it was.

Flashback to Heinz 57's shifting bar.

Special thanks to Larwyn.

UPDATE
Via anonymous in the comments section, Obama’s 57 States & other lessons
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I'm heading to the big city to see Macbeth, so blogging will be light. Here is the NYT's slide show of the production along with Patrick Stewart's comments.

While I'm out, bee-have!



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"My dearest love, Duncan comes here tonight"

Patrick Stewart is playing Macbeth on Broadway. You can buy your tickets here.



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From this morning's email basket:

"Don't vote for McCain because he's ... bald."

What in the world?

Clearly the author of that post misjudged me:

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When I first did the Patrick Stewart post above, Jeremayakovka reminded us all of Johnny Carson's "Daddy Sang Bass (mamma sang tenor)", so here's the video:


Jeremayakovka's got The O-Bomb Threat

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Le Monde interviewed Little Miss Atilla, and she looks marvelous!
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Michelle Obama's Princeton thesis is now public. Jammie Wearing Fool has the links (h/t Larwyn).

If I have time, I'll read it, but to me what counts is what she's saying now, which bears all the signs of Ivy League Populism (h/t M.).

Barack means "blessing" in Arabic.

Isn't that precious.

From Maria, Habla Usted English, Mrs. Obama?
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Now the Iranians are holding mass executions of people "offending the sacred". (h/t Larwyn)
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In an effort to remake Weekend at Bernie's as performance art on the Oscars' red carpet, Michael Moore wants to bring Castro to the Oscars (h/t Laura).

Speaking of Castro, Mark Falkoff remembers a dinner from 2001. Castro was cleary senile even then, but the ones who were wrong not to act immediately were the Americans.
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The Anchoress is Grateful for art.
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Poonovation. Take The Tour



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Weekend Geekness: When did Star Trek jump the shark?

Jay Garmon asks, When did Star Trek jump the shark?

Answer: When they brought in the Borg Queen.

I know a guy who thinks the Borg Queen's sexy.

Excuse me as I lapse into total geekness, but the best Star Trek episode/movie ever was The Best of Both Worlds.

Here's the cliffhanger:


Update, Monday 19 November
Via Instapundit, the ultimate geek digs



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In a lighter mode, The Aeneid

Lots of political topics buzzing around this morning, but I feel like posting about lighter stuff.

Garcia Marquez turns 80, thanks in part to the American oncologists who treated him a few years ago. His hometown of Aracataca understandably doesn't want its name changed to Macondo, since the local virgins don't ascend to heaven. I read A Hundred Years of Solitude in my late teens, which was the right age for it. Now I find magical realism a dull dull dull gimmick.

Vargas Llosa is one of my three favorite writers, and I just saw a Vargas Llosa book I haven't read,

Here's the blurb,

Ricardo, at an early age, sees his life-long dream fulfilled: to live in Paris. But an encounter with a past love will change everything. The young girl, adventurer, pragmatic, wicked, calculating, and mischievous, will drag him out of his small world of ambitions. This is the story of the intimate love that occupies more than three decades of Ricardo's life, and it is also a fascinating tale traveling through Europe, South America, and Japan. Starring in the backdrop are Peru's history from 1950 to 1987 and its swinging from democracy to dictatorship; Paris in the sixties and its great philosophers Sartre and Camus; the decade of the 70s in London, the birth of a new culture, drugs, music, hippies, freedom of love; Japan's big dealer lords, and, finally, Spain halfway through the 80s. Creating an admirable tension between comedy and tragedy, Mario Vargas Llosa plays with reality and fiction to release a story in which love presents itself as indefinable, owner of a thousand faces, just like the mischievous girl. Passion and distance, chance and destiny, pain and pleasure... Which is the true face of love?

The locations appear to match a lot of Vargas Llosa's life, and he can be a great Romantic, so this sounds very appealing.

As much as I love Vargas Llosa's writing, it will have to wait since right now I'm reading Fagel's translation of The Aeneid (I always have trouble pronouncing the word Aeneid - must be that speech impediment Steve's commenter was talking about)

Simon Callow read the audio version and I'm going to listen to it. Few things are more pleasurable than listening to a deep-voiced Brit reading beautiful language, while I'm sipping a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream on top. Yes, I know, one should be having tea while listening to deep-voiced Brits, but it's snowing outside, so give me hot chocolate.

And I won't be Falling Asleep over the Aeneid, for sure.

Speaking of Brits, the Beeb has a slide show featuring Shaun the Sheep, he of A Close Shave fame. Shaun's got a new TV program.

Shaun's relatives, the Serta counting sheep, are still out there, so I predict a long TV carreer for Shaun, even when the sheep do not talk:

Apart from a few baas from Shaun and his friends, growls from sheepdog Bitzer and grunts from the Farmer, Shaun the sheep is a silent TV series.

So much for speculating as to whether the actors' British voices would be deep and yummy. ------------------------------------------------
It's not every guy that happens to carry a handy finger cutter in his suit pocket, Jack Bauer does. What's even more amazing is that after being in imprisoned for two years in China his new suit fits to perfection. Maybe he shared a cell with a Hong Kong tailor.
CORRECTION: Larwyn explains that the finger cutter wasn't a finger cutter:

It was the Consul's cigar cutter - he had it out to offer the traitor President a cigar.

That'd be one guy that regrets not giving up the stogies.
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Mary of Exit Zero's not going to post at Dean's World, but I hope she continues posting at her own blog.
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Imelda, meet Michael.
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But back to the subject of deep-voiced Brits, here's one from Yorkshire, reciting the alphabet:

As Obi's Sister said, Engage!