FratFace Rapist Kavanagh was just confirmed as a supreme court justice. The fact that he was pushed through the judicial process without permission, consent or approval from the American people is one of the biggest parts of the problem. His nomination was thoughtless, as most things are from the Donny Twimp in charge. He is very like the man baby at the top. Overly entitled. Prone to sexual assault. Gifted at both self-aggrandizement and making himself a victim.
The nomination itself was bad enough. The confirmation feels like the beginning of an American dystopia.
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Update:
It is clear when I wrote this.
And when I post it, these years later, we just danced in the streets because the Twimp has been voted out of office. We are stuck with Kavanagh however. And the new horror show who followed him.

In other words. Why are we talking about this guy? But also – why are we coating him with words? We the less refined, the more coarse, the less remarkable, the not as noble.
Clearly we can not all be as amazing as Laertes is given all the words spent in his honor.

In elementary school, I remember some art project wherein we traced our shadows. Well – we couldn’t trace our own shadows – every move would change them – but we traced one another’s shadows. It’s kind of a beautiful project. You get an artistic representation of yourself that is also not your self – a self/not-self at several layers of remove.

I do love a good hat lazzo. On again, off again. It will become even funnier if every time Osric puts his hat back on or takes it off he does a little flourish of some kind. If he can’t help but twirl it, brush it off or wave its feather and give a little bow or something? And every time he engages with the hat, it gets a little faster. The lazzi of the hat. Yeah.

All these years into my life with Shakespeare and I never really examined “complexion” before. I thought of it how we mean “complexion” today – that is the color or state of one’s face/skin. Which – apparently it could also mean at the time of this play’s writing – but –
complexion originally meant one’s temperament and its relationship to the four humors. It only meant FACE as it related to how one’s personality or temperament was reflected there.

I feel like I want to go back in time and play Viola in 12th Night again. I’m not sure it would have come through but the line about loving someone of Orsino’s complexion would have meant a lot more to me if it had been about his temperament instead of his FACE coloring. I mean – it always struck me as so shallow and racially uncomfortable to have characters be so obsessed with their love interests’ complexions – that is, the hue of their faces. But it wasn’t about that at all, I learn now from a cursory etymological search.

It’s hot for Hamlet’s “complexion” – not because of his skin tone – but because of his temperament – his humors. I know a scholar who has done a bunch of research on the humors and I remember that she identified which of the humors Hamlet seemed to be – I want to say wetness was involved? And darkness? And also that the humors were associated with geography as well. Spain is hot and dry. Denmark is cold and moist. Is this right? Anyway. A sultry and hot bit of weather would not suit Hamlet’s humors. His complexion, that is, his face, would not be a factor.

In my citified life, I never have cause to think about the direction of the wind. I notice which way it blows my skirt – ahead of, or behind me- but which direction it comes from never enters my mind. I expect, in more open climates, the direction from which it comes is quite a bit more significant. Maybe you can feel the chill coming in from Canada or the heat from the rains down in Africa.

Here in NYC, I’d have to consciously think through which way the wind was coming from to know if it were Northerly.

I know Osric is a tool and a suck up and a water-fly. But I also think Hamlet is being kind of a dick. Like – who has more power – a prince or a landowner? I mean. Hamlet is abusing his authority a bit just because he’s not a fan of this guy. But he’s punching down, really.
It helps if Osric is played by someone who we want to see taken down a peg. It helps if we want to see Hamlet put him in his place.
On paper, though, I find myself sympathetic to him. He has no other recourse but to suck up to authority. He doesn’t really have any.

What a funny sentence!
First – a bonnet to my mind, is a hat for a lady, which Osric is not.
But that’s not the funny part really.
The funny part is the peculiar anthropomorphization of the bonnet. It’s not “its right use.” It’s “his right use.” His.
The bonnet has a gender and it’s male.
And that’s kinda funny.

Having just been offered a “thing” from “his majesty,” Hamlet responds with as much polite snark as might be allowable under the circumstances.
Certainly no diligence of spirit is required for a message but a “thing”? Maybe.

This last bit could be a comic satisfaction of Osric’s way of speaking.
It is affected and overly wordy and that’s just the sort of person Hamlet enjoys making fun of.
It’s quite clever to introduce the character’s first line with a soft imitation of him.
It also handily dismisses him before he’s even begun.