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To quote, or not to quote;
That is the question.
Whether 'tis cluefuller on the Net to re-post
The tos and fros of diverse opinions,
Or to take arms against such attributions,
And, by excision, end them.
To trim, to snip:
No more, and by a snip to say we end
The widows and the thousand orphaned words
That posts are heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.
To trim, to snip.
To snip, perchance too much. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that joyous chop the sense we lose
When we have taken out the fluff and dross
Must give us pause.
There's the factor
That makes calamity of so long threads.
For who would bear the tos and fros of chat,
Th' cascader's screed, the geek's anality,
The pain of misplacéd tags, the reeking trolls,
The cliquiness of in-jokes, and the flames
That studied satire draws from clueless fools,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a mere bobbit?
Who would cudgel brains
To write a piece, witty and thoughtful too,
But that the hope of making people laugh,
That blesséd gift of humour from whose touch
No traveller is safe, spurs on the soul,
And makes us rather bear those ills we read
Than carve them up,and mayhap lose the joke?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And Usenet posters of great sense and content
In this confusion quote more than they should,
And lose the name of Clueful.
Read you, now,
The fair Emilia! [1] Nymph, in thy reminders
Be all my posts remembered.
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1
There once was a lady from Salem
Who used to take cocks and inhale 'em.
The fruits of these feats:
Pubic hairs from her teeth
Were saved until Fall when she'd bale 'em.
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2
Peter, first Duke of Orange
Was limited to a miserable four-inch,
But technique in a keyhole
Developed his P-hole
"Til at last it got caught in the door-hinge.
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3
There was an old harlot of Wick
Who was sucking a coal-heaver's prick.
She said, "I don't mind
The coal dust and grime,
But the smell of your balls makes me sick."
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4
There was a young man of Loch Leven
Who went for a walk about seven.
He fell into a pit
That was brimful of shit,
And now the poor bugger's in heaven.
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5
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