(Not) Everything You Wanted to Know About ClownWorld Shakespeare

But it's enough for now

Those words above were the very first that I, ClownWorld Shakespeare, wrote nearly three months ago.

And it has been quite a memorable three months and quite productive too.

I am so very Very VERY thankful for each and every eyeball that has landed here.

Please, never ever stop reading this Substack. Unless you got something better to do. Do the more important thing first, then come back here. Always come back here.

I am my greatest punching bag. All shots welcome at this Substack. So you got something to say, say it. That’s what the comment box is for. I may say it right back at ya in sonnet form or longform or “let me raise my middle finger” form!

Thanks, gifbay.com! Downloaded at 3:37 a.m.

So how do I do it?

Well, luckily, I never sleep. In fact, if you ever see me sleep for more than four hours straight, call the morgue. So if it’s 3:37 a.m. and you find yourself wondering: “Hey, what’s that ClownWorld Shakespeare fella up to right now?” You can probably find me gathering artwork for Sonnets or doing a bit of research for The Journey. Or maybe even, uh, what’s that other thing called? Oh, yeah, sketch comedy writing (or is it sketchy writers doing comedy?)

How did the idea for ClownWorld Shakespeare’s Substack come about?

Well, on May 12, 2023, I was sitting at my computer staring off into space—okay, fine, I was watching bootleg Taylor Swift Eras tour shows.

Now you’d probably expect a joke or two here. But none are forthcoming. I take Taylor Alison Swift very important. She’s like Emily Dickinson, with a guitar! She’s a modern-day Fiona Apple! She’s the Judy Garland for straight guys!

If you’re an anti-Swiftie, that’s on you. And maybe you should do a bit of soul-searching, pal (or gal!), as to why that is. Tay-Tay is giving all she’s got out there on stage every night, and she gets nothing but grief (and a few bucks here and there) for it. Frankly, this Swiftie is sick of it.

Anyway, on that fateful May day, that Little Voice® in my head whispered: “You should write that iambic pentameter Shakespeare stuff and put it on Substack. Maybe piss off a lot of people. Really piss ‘em off.”

“Yeah, Little Voice, that’s funny. I should go on Substack and write Shakespeare stuff. Go on… Substack… and write Shakes… holy Globe Theatre! That’s the greatest idea I, you, we, me ever had, Little Voice!”

“And make it funny.”

“Duh!” exclaimed me.

“You wanna burn some shit down?”

“No!” I said.

“Good. Just checking,” said Little Voice. “But let me know if you change your mind, uh, about the burning. We could just do empty warehouses to start out. Yes? No?”

“No!”

And that was the seed that started this whole field of literary corn!

The steepest learning curve has been the visual aspect. Not just learning how to actually do basic functions for creating a graphic… “Why can’t I cut and paste into the background?!” “Why do all the people in the free online pics smile like they have gas?” “Wait, I could just duct tape a banana to a wall and get rich? Seriously? %$&^ writing!”

…Er, but making those visuals memorable, meaningful and funny, that’s the hard part. That’s when guys like me and Matisse and Rembrandt put on our stylish work boots, head down to the artsy salt mines and simply git ‘er done! (hat tip: Larry the Cable Guy)

Aside from the graphics, those first few days were a mad dash: reading dozens of other Substacks; learning the basics of search engine optimization tools; and overcoming the fear of having anyone other than my stuffed teddy bear Teddy read my sonnets.

Oh, look, a new harvest has arrived! Let’s have a taste…

Presenting yet another ClownWorld Shakespeare Original NFT (Nice Freakin’ Token):

Thanks, E-News, for the X-Files pic.

Please share this post, even with someone who will hate it. In fact, especially share with someone who will A) hate it and B) write a lengthy comment about my putrid literary stench. I drink up comment rage spittle like a milkshake. (hat tip: There Will Be Blood)

But sure, share with this post with those who will like it too, I guess. I don’t know. Whatever. But I can’t drink happy tears, you know? They’re salty and gross. Eww.

THE END

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