Every so often. I add something to plinx that would be of interest to, essentially, nobody but me. But hey, it's my blog. It's my perogative.It's my perblogative! Ahem. This is one of those times, gentle reader.
I'm going to come right out and say what the link is, if you read it and your first instinct is 'meh', I'll forgive you. See you next time.
It's an interpretation of the film 'The Big Lebowski' (my favourite film in the whole wide world) as if penned by Shakespeare. Yeah.
It's called 'Two Gentlemen of Lebowski' and it's bloody marvellous. Here's a snippet:
Thou err’st; no man calls me Lebowski. Yet thou art man; neither spirit damned nor wandering shadow, thou art solid flesh, man of woman born. Hear rightly, man!—for thou hast got the wrong man. I am the Knave, man; Knave in nature as in name.
Thy name is Lebowski. Thy wife is Bonnie.
Zounds, man. Look at these unworthiest hands; no gaudy gold profanes my little hand. I have no honour to contain the ring. I am a bachelor in a wilderness. Behold this place; are these the towers where one may glimpse Geoffrey, the married man? Is this a court where mistresses of common sense are hid? Not for me to hang my bugle in an invisible baldric, sir; I am loath to take a wife, or she to take me until men be made of some other mettle than earth. Hark, the seat of my commode be arisen!
Search his satchel! His words are a fantastical banquet to work confusion upon his enemies. There sits eight pounds of proof within; surely he hides his treasure on his person.
Villainy! Why this confounded orb, such as men use to play at ninepins; what devilry, these holes in holy trinity?
Obviously thou art not a golfer.
Read the whole shebang Here.