The T-Shirt Speaks!

... which means I’d better wash it soon.

But the T-shirt I’m talking about in particular is one I was given during a production of The Compleat Works of Wllm Shkspr (abridged) at the Pennsylvania Shakespeare Festival years ago – in the summer of 2000, I think. It’s a great show, funny as hell. For one part, I was lucky enough to be called up on stage to run in circles and shout some line that was supposed to represent Hamlet’s subconscious or superego or something. (Anyone who’s seen me run knows that the scene was probably twice as funny as usual because of this.) Be that as it may, when the scene was over, T-shirts dropped from the ceiling for every audience participant. The shits had quotes from Shakespeare on them. Mine was from Richard III, and read: “Woe to that land that’s groverned by a child.” The first R in “groverned” was crossed out with a red x, correcting it.

Naturally, I thought of George Bush, who was poised to win the Republican nomination.

(Okay, I probably thought of Dan Quayle, too, since he was a lousy speller, in public, at least. But, as usual, Bush was on my mind.)

And when I look at all the mistakes he’s made, I’d have to say the T-shirt was a bit prophetic. I’ve known that for a while now. But the T-shirt is speaking in a whole new way, that I’ve only understood just now.

For some reason, the red x – and ONLY the red x, not any of the other red on the shirt – has completely faded away. Disappeared completely. And it’s occurred to me that that’s a symbol of how much worse this administration is than what I expected. Because, stupid mistake though it was, at least it got corrected. But now I’m just walking around with a misspelled shirt, pretending that nothing’s wrong. Sort of like saying “I support the troops” while sending them over to die for a series of lies. Except without all the widows and orphans left behind, because it’s just a stupid T-shirt.

It’s time to correct this groverning child. Let’s give him an F and leave him behind.

Rob

UPDATE: Then again, nobody's perfect. As soon as I posted this, I noticed I had written "when the scene was over, T-shits dropped from the ceiling." Which is a helluva lousy thank-you gift.