Pure Gonzo Engineering

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Act five, Scene five

Macbeth up in his castle, straight up ghetto gangster style waiting for his own impending death.

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.
Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow;
a poor player,That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more:
it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

I hope I can get my significance on in some way shape or form.

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