Thane of Cawdor Trump! Out, Out, Damned Spot!

DATELINE: Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Julius Trump?

With local officials resigning from their jobs after posting their racist views on Twitter, we think President Trump is doing a helluva job influencing citizens.

In Brockton, Mass., a third-rate parks commissioner tweeted that the protesting black players of the NFL were monkeys.  He even told the newspapers and media that he was not a racist and that was not the intent of his comment. He regretted people took his words literally.

It just goes to show the people who make these comments have no idea they are racists. This is reminiscent of anyone who hates Obamacare because a black man’s name is on the health insurance. That means you, President Trump and arrogant members of Congress.

Thanks to the great example set by the Thane of Cawdor/Thane of Glamis, Our Trumpeting Lord of the Flies, Donald Trump is causing more racial divisions than Jefferson Davis.

When will the dimwits realize?  The protest is against police brutality toward black people. This is not a protest against America or against the flag.

Out, out, brief candle! The thane of Cawdor and Lord of the flies fails to see this. Like his role model Macbeth, Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.

If Melania wants to get rid of any dark spots, she should start with the big ugly spot on the carpet of the oval office in the White House.

Out out, damned spot!  It’s a problem caused by the Lord of the Flies. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Citizens should expect life to creep 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! Out, out, damned Trump!

While the nation awaits on the Trump White House for tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow, and a new election day.

MacBird Outdid Trump as Caesar 45 years ago

 Julius Trump?

DATELINE:  Shakespeare in Absentia

We have seen many updated versions of Shakespeare over the years. Indeed, we enjoy seeing the Bard transported to new locations and timeframes. It often electrifies the message that has become stale to modern audiences.

We have seen Shakespeare set in Nazi Germany (Richard III), in the world of bikers (Coriolanus), in the world of independent film students (Hamlet), a corporate boardroom (Othello), and now we find a stage production of Julius Caesar in American politics.

The Shakespeare in the Park production makes Caesar a lookalike Donald Trump who hath grown ambitious. He has that chock of blond hair weave and an overlong red tie. He also has a bloated ego.

The man who would be emperor is assassinated by senators with knives, just like 2000 years ago. How much progress we have made in politics?

This version has created a firestorm, causing corporate sponsors to try to stifle artistic expression by withdrawing support. It’s a tempest in a teapot.

We think back to the Vietnam War days—and back then we must have been less sensitive because Macbeth was presented on stage in the form of MacBird.

That little ditty suggested that Lyndon Johnson had been behind the assassination of John Kennedy. In this cruel satire, without the Shakespearean tongue, the Scottish thane Macbird and his wife, Lady Bird, are party to a ruthless series of killings to rise to the top of the nation. Was Lyndon not born of woman?

We recall amusement about seeing a dumb tasteless play that presented President Johnson portrayed for conspiracy theorists  as Macbeth, but it did not quite engender the furor that President Trump has exemplified in a Caesar mode.

Satirizing politics of the moment has become a dangerous business. Just ask Alec Baldwin or Kathy Griffin who claim they are subject to social anger on social media.

So, too, Julius Caesar has created a debate—not about politics, but about art. To be or not, we’ll wait for the movie version.

New England Patriots at the Brink of the Last Syllable


A little rain fell on the Patriots Place parade in Foxboro in December.

The Patriots buzz-saw ran into a woody knot.

As in the song, the little San Francisco cable-car went halfway to the stars, but went all the way to Tom Brady’s ability to pull a rabbit out of a hat. It went far enough to knock Tom Brady out of the cable car driver’s seat.

The little cable car turned into the Little Engine who could. The Foxboro team of destiny was derailed by something coming round the mountain—and it stomped on Brady’s grapes of wrath.

The Patriots met the enemy, and he had tattoos on both arms.

Macbeth’s Birnim Wood has come to the castle gates. And only someone not of woman born has beaten the Patriots. All that boil and bubble gave the Patriots toil and trouble.

Patriot fans started looking for those nasty old trio of weird sisters who predicted that Banquo Welker would not be a king and, instead, hailed the Thane of Brady.

Bill Belichick ran up and down the sidelines in the rain and was heard muttering, “Out, out, damn spot.” Instead, it was the brief candle that went out, out.

King Duncan was murdered in his host’s bed, and Gronk was asleep outside the door with a cup of his sponsor, Dunkin Donuts, coffee.

The game seemed to creep in its own petty pace, and the Patriot players each had a role on the national stage. Worse yet, all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death.

The Patriots were but a walking shadow. Poor players and poor plays that strut and fret for a couple of hours on national television were suddenly heard no more.

This was a game, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

When everyone expected Tom Brady to give another performance worthy of Hamlet, he turned instead into the Donkey from a Midsummer Night’s worst nightmare.

Alas, poor Yorick, Brady knew him well once long ago.

Ossurworld’s William Russo has a volume of New England Patriots 2011, filled with his analysis of last season’s Super Bowl contenders. If you enjoy venom served up cold, you may want to read that sports humor book, available in softcover or e-book format. Simply go to to find that work and many others.


NHL Villains: The Iceman Goeth with Fehr and Bettman


The NHL (no hockey league) continues to be a non-story and only borders on humor if you think watching glaciers fall into the ocean is funny.

Much debate has centered on the identity of the villain in this story. The two main culprits are Donald Fehr who heads the players’ negotiating team, and his nemesis is Gary Bettmann who is the commissioner of the sport.

We have looked long and hard at these two and cannot tell which one is better suited to being the villain in your favorite action movie.

You might want to cast them as Thor and Loki. Certainly, the certain weasel-like qualities that Bettmann has would fit the ugly duckling brother of Thor, taller and fairer as exemplified by Donald Fehr.

If you like Westerns, these two men would hardly be the main characters, but would be better called out of central casting to play old codgers. In an old Audie Murphy western, Fehr would be cast as the corrupt banker—and Bettmann would be the ferret-faced owner of the general store.

When Sylvester Stallone casts The Expendables 3, he could do worse than hiring Fehr and Bettmann to head the despicable bad guys that Arnold, Bruce, Chuck, and Dolph, must track down.

If Ridley Scott plans to do yet another prequel to Alien and Prometheus, we nominate Fehr and Bettmann to be candidates to have the alien monster erupt from their bloated stomachs.

We are more inclined to see Bettmann and Fehr as characters in Eugene O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh. Alas, in this sequel, it would be the Iceman Taketh— the entire season of hockey for fans, the audience who gets its teeth kicked out again.

William Russo’s new book is now out, ready for your tablet, your smartphone, and your Kindle. You may like BEST BOSTON SPORTS HUMOR of 2012–or you prefer to read RED SOX 2012: Bobby Valentine’s Season in Hell, a month-by-month examination of the team, showing all the signs of trouble that most sports media missed. His other sports books are SEX, DRUGS, SPORTS & WHIMSY and RAJON RONDO: SUPERSTAR!