Bardish buffoonery

I don't abide by insults and or cruelty. It's not just needlessly mean; it's downright boring, unoriginal, unskilled, and as the kids say, "basic.”

But when we're talking Shakespeare, all bets are off.

Some of the Bard's characters were perhaps a tad rude, but oh, were they masters of the barbed tongue.

What is it about leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, knot-pated, agatering, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish pouch! (“Henry IV, Part I”) that delights and so enthralls? Is it the juxtaposition against high-browed verse? The fastidious commitment to the craft of the invective — outstripping and undercutting the jab for the sake of sheer literary beauty?

Or is it because you wish you'd thought to call your older brother a puke-stocking when he absconded with your Barbie out of spite?

Yeah, you heard me, you poisonous bunch-back'd toad (“Richard III”), you rump-fed runyon (“Macbeth”), you foul and pestilent congregation of vapours (“Hamlet”)!

If the internet is any authority (and we sure like to act like it is, deserved or not), I'm far from the only fanatic of old Billy's best business. There are hosts of Shakespearean insult generators (a flashy modern update to the carefully crafted, three-column handouts we used like a choose-your-own-adventure in high school English). When not reminded of gems like (thine) horrid image doth unfix my hair (“Macbeth”), they'll spew greats even Gentleman Gab himself would envy like thou fusty elf-skinned codpiece (Pangloss).

Of course, there are also a myriad of English majors and literature-loving locutors penning their praise in Bardy blog bashes. Invaluable.com offers "Shakespearean Insults for Every Situation." And yes, they have a create-your-own flow chart, too, unlike some mewling, boggling mammet.

You thought “Romeo and Juliet” was his best-loved work, if not “Macbeth” or “Hamlet,” or simply “Sonnet 18” (Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?).

But the sheer volume of evidence, which I have not quantified, qualified, calculated or culled in any way at all, speaks otherwise. (Probably).

It's the insults. The mockery. The vain and valiant vilification.

The wit. Particularly the purest wit of all — that of a 7-year-old who's just discovered their own power, who's seriously cheesed off and has all the exhaustive creativity of someone who can't swear yet.

Thence arises true genius.

Thence wanders such gems as: Thy food is such as hath been belch'd upon by infected lungs (“Pericles”).

Just don't expect dessert as reward for mastery of the mouth. Thou canst masticate on thy own malevolent manner, thou meat-minded, mush-mouthed mongrel!

Although (forgive me, English majors) it seems ironic that ol' Willy Shakes should speak of a tongue that "outvenoms all the worms of the Nile." Perhaps he was the best of the cut throats (“Macbeth”).

But perhaps I am as a candle, better burnt out (“King Henry IV, Part II”).

Just crack a window before you light this page on fire. Lest after ye sell your face for pence and 'tis dear (“King John”)!

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Elena Johnson can be reached at ejohnson@cdapress.com. Just don't write to call her a crusty botch of nature (“Troilus and Cressida”). She knows.