You Take The High Road, I'll Take The Low Road

It's Robert Burns Day, to those of Scottish roots, marking the birthday of the poet. It's a Scots national holiday, marked with the eating of a dish called haggis and the drinking of whisky. We thought we'd mark the day with one of his poems... and a bit of mischief. 

My Bonnie Mary

Go fetch to me a pint o'wine

An' fill it in a silver tassie,

That I may drink, before I go,

A service to my bonnie lassie.

The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith,

Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry,

The ship rides by the Berwick-law,

And I maun leave my bonnie Mary.

 

The trumpets sound, the banners fly,

The glittering spears are rankèd ready;

The shouts o' war are heard afar,

The battle closes thick and bloody;

But it's no the roar o' sea or shore

Wad mak me langer wish to tarry;

Nor shout o' war that's heard afar--

It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary!  ~ Robert Burns

It Is A Truth Universally Acknowledged

"....that a politician, running for higher office, shall be in want of a spin doctor. Oh, no, that will never do. Spin doctor is a term that hasn't been invented yet. Very well then, how shall I start this tale? It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that a drunkard, having had sobered up, shall be in want of a bottle of rum? Come now, Jane, you're not writing a drinking song. Think, girl!" ~ Jane Austen, 1796

This month marks the two hundredth anniversary of the first publication of Pride and Prejudice, the signature novel by Jane Austen which continues to be a beloved classic today. The story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy hasn't lost its appeal in these two centuries, still selling strong today, spawning endless adaptations and inspirations for stage, screen, and spinoffs. At the heart of a story about British society, family dynamics, class, and parental expectations are two stubborn, proud characters, both of whom are meant for each other.

We thought we'd mark the occasion by asking a most serious question or three...

Do you relate more to Darcy or Lizzie?

Does Mr. Wickham deserve to die a horrendously painful death in the never seen writer's alternative ending? 

Is Mr. Collins merely misunderstood, and really not all that awkward?

Is Lady Catherine de Bourgh naturally that ill tempered, or is it because her heart was once broken by a knavish rake?

Do you have no idea who these people are we're talking about? (Heathen! Heathen! We cast you out!)

Happy Two Hundredth Anniversary, Jane. All writers wish they could still be known two centuries on. You've done just that.

And no, we have no idea why the zombies got grafted onto the book by Seth Grahame Smith. 

Without A Word: Down Under And Over The Top

Without A Word: O Mistress Mine, Where Are You Roaming?