With rumors of an Arrested Development movie in the works, contrary to earlier rumors that it was not, it seems like a good time to look back at the amazing TV series America discovered just a bit too late. As critics and fans appropriately sing the praises of the brilliant creative team being reassembled, I thought I’d say a few words about the spiritual grandfather of the series, without whom none of this would have been possible: Sigmund Freud. My intent here will not be to add a layer of Freudian analysis on top of the show, but rather to demonstrate the strong Freudian currents that already run throughout the series. If that appeals to you, just lie back on the couch, and read on!

Michael Bluth is established as the central character in the opening credits, and all of the other characters are defined by their relationship to him. The family, therefore, represents Michael’s psyche in all of its facets. Michael has three siblings, who represent his id, ego, and superego. Older brother G.O.B. is the id, seeking pleasure and avoiding responsibility at every turn. He often wins the things Michael wants by pursuing them without any of Michael’s second-guessing. Sister Lindsay represents the ego, constantly refashioning her definition of self to gain the attention and approval of others. It is no coincidence that she is framed as Michael’s twin. Younger brother Buster is the superego, living his life by others’ rules and in constant fear of his own independence. His obvious issues reflect Michael’s more subtle inability to break free from his family. But Michael can no more escape them than he can distance himself from his own psyche; they are a part of him.

Even in the series finale, when Michael finally fulfills his wish to be free of them, he winds up face to face with the one person he most wants to avoid, his father. Michael’s number one driving force throughout the series is the very Freudian desire to supplant his father: he wants to replace his father as the president of the Bluth Company, and he wants to be a better father to his son George-Michael than George Sr. was to him. (The names here are no coincidence; George-Michael combines the names of his father and grandfather, and they are to live on through him. Does George Sr. have another grandchild who can carry on his legacy? Maeby.) George Sr. is a very dominant figure to this family – powerful, controlling, sexually voracious. He also has an alter ego in his identical twin brother Oscar, who is carefree and nurturing. Note that Oscar is George Sr.’s middle name as well. It is built into the show’s premise that one of them must be imprisoned at all times. In one episode, they are both out of prison, and they fight. Being twins, neither is able to defeat the other. This represents the duality of Michael’s father image.

Just as George Sr. is an archetypical father figure, Lucille is a controlling mother right out of the Freudian playbook. She is the one who pulls all of the strings, and she’s not above pitting her children against each other as a power play. When Buster (Michael’s superego) disobeys her just once, he literally has a body part bitten off by a “loose seal,” a deliberate play on Mom’s name, justifying his castration anxiety. When Buster first dates, it’s a mature woman named Lucille. Again, Buster’s obvious issues highlight the dynamics of the family as a whole. A recurring theme with Buster is having borderline-incestuous overtones in his relationship with his mother. In fact, incest is much more of a theme on this show than one would normally expect on network television, particularly the tension between George-Michael and his cousin Maeby, but in several other places as well. Lucille has an affair with her brother-in-law. George Sr. and G.O.B. independently see a prostitute that Michael suspects might be his sister (and who is conspicuously played by the actor’s sister). When Lindsay finds out she’s adopted, the first thing she does is make a pass at Michael.

Tobias, as an in-law, is outside of this system of Michael’s psyche, but is close enough to it to provide commentary. He serves as the voice of the analyst (or therapist, or… whatever), and his tidbits of psychoanalysis are all Freud. But Tobias himself is the most overtly Freudian character of them all, as he constantly expresses his repressed homosexual desires through his layered speech patterns. Barry Zuckercorn, who (unlike Tobias) acts on his desires and lies about it, often makes Freudian slips revealing his activity, due to a subconscious desire to be found out. More subtle examples of subconscious feelings revealing themselves through language patterns are found throughout the series, as with Michael’s inability to remember Anne’s name masking his hostility towards her or with George-Michael’s talking about Maeby and inadvertently revealing his lustful thoughts.

One of Freud’s major contributions was in demonstrating how early experiences in our lives can affect the people we will later become, and Arrested Development keeps coming back to this theme. The “lessons” George Sr. teaches his children return to them repeatedly later in life. Michael’s affinity for playacting the role of a lawyer can be traced back to a role he had in a school play. One can only imagine the memories being formed by the kids who acted in the warden’s play. The “Boyfights” that Michael and G.O.B. engaged in as children helped form the relationship they have as adults… to the degree that they have become adults.

And here we have one of the most important themes of the series, found in the very title. Freud originated the concept of stage-based development, which would later influence such thinkers as Erikson and Piaget. If one’s development is “arrested” it means that he or she does not normally move into the next stage at the appropriate time. In the series Arrested Development, adult characters often display juvenile characteristics and continue to play out family dynamics they should have long outgrown, again demonstrating how early experiences can be formative in deciding who we will be later in life. Freud would have been proud.

You may notice that, in all of my discussion of Freud, I have avoided discussing some of the more phallic imagery in the show. But sometimes a banana stand is just a banana stand.

This is a new 3D Pic Tac Toe puzzle. If you are unfamiliar with the format, you can check out my last 3D Pic Tac Toe for guidelines.

In this particular 3D Pic Tac Toe, each of the forty-nine themes will be a movie. Each of the three images in that theme will picture at least one actor who was in that movie.

In Image B1, you will use the actors who voiced the animated characters shown, but none of the forty-nine movies in the solution is animated, a documentary, or Robert Altman’s The Player. A few of the movies have not yet been released.

You can click on each image to see a larger version:

Top Level – Level A

Middle Level – Level B

Bottom Level – Level C

Please post whatever you come up with in the comments section.

Enjoy!

UPDATE: Correct themes provided by Neel Mehta (36), Evan (10), Ken (1), and Rodney G (2). Alternate theme suggested by Evan. See comments for discussion, or click here to skip right to the answers.

The 8th grade class I’ve been working with on Othello has finished their video project, and it is now available for public viewing. Enjoy!

The students watched last year’s Cymbeline video before we began the project, so they could think about what they’d like to do as they read Othello. I’m really happy with the way it turned out. Feel free to share this video with anyone you think would be interested.

This is the fourth in a five-part series of Shakespeare Lipograms. For my fourth lipogram, I have chosen to summarize a Tragedy, Hamlet, using “O” as the only vowel.

Enjoy!

Two on post show Old Crown Lord’s Ghost to Bosom Cohort, who looks on spook from top to bottom. Bosom Cohort knows to show Ghost to Forlorn Son. Forlorn Son dons low moods, won’t show known Crown Lord props. Forlorn Son broods:

“O God! O God! How worlds rot! How’s Pop forgot so soon? Not two months lost, no, not so, not two. So good to comfort Mom. Now – oh no! – to go from joy to sorrow. Crown Lord mocks protocol to hook control of stronghold so pronto to follow Pop’s drop-off. Took Mom for consort too soon, too soon. O, Mom shows so hollow! So not cool.”

Cross Hotblood told Moon Tot not to grow too fond of Forlorn Son, for Moon Tot’s born too lowbrow to show Forlorn Son how to don crowns. Top Lord told Cross Hotblood world-won words: “Son, do not borrow – not from, nor to – for to do so oft shows not gold nor cohort to follow.” Top Lord told Moon Tot not to grow too fond of Forlorn Son too, for boys’ vows oft show too hollow. Moon Tot conforms.

Bosom Cohort shows Ghost to Forlorn Son. Ghost told Forlorn son to follow. Ghost shows Forlorn Son books of sorrow, from Ghost’s own bro, Crown Lord. “Son, for honor, go knock on Crown Lord’s door, who took to rob Pop of crown, of growth, of consort – lost! Do not scold Consort Mom. Now go!” Forlorn Son opts to go from low moods to mock fool.

Crown Lord now longs to know roots of Forlorn Son’s odd moods. Top Lord shows Crown Lord how Forlorn Son’s soft spot for Moon Tot grows odd moods. Consort Mom looks to how Forlorn Son sobs for Pop for roots of Forlorn Son’s odd moods. Forlorn Son shows two old school cohorts (who snoop for Crown Lord) how loss of Pop’s crown grows odd moods. Crown Lord knows not of Ghost’s words. Top Lord shows Show Troop to Forlorn Son. Show Troop shows off for Forlorn Son. Forlorn Son shows Show Troop how to form shows to work on crooks.

Crown Lord snoops on Forlorn Son. Top Lord snoops too. Forlorn Son broods solo: “To go on, or not to go on? Moot. To drop off? To nod down to stop lots of wrongs? Or to go to post-worlds of doom? No! Horror works on lots of cold-foot poltroons. So, do go on. Do go on. Soft! How now, Moon Tot?” Moon Tot confronts Forlorn Son. Forlorn Son scorns Moon Tot to go to God’s fold.

Crown Lord cottons to go to Show Troop’s show “Knock Off.” Crown Lord holds no joy to look on Show Troop’s show. Crown Lord opts to go, so Forlorn Son now knows. For Crown Lord to go off shows proof of Ghost Pop’s word. Top Lord told Forlorn Son to go to Consort Mom’s room. Forlorn Son looks on Crown Lord’s stoop to roods. Forlorn Son won’t knock off Crown Lord to go to God. Forlorn Son holds on. Forlorn Son shocks Consort Mom. Top Lord snoops. Forlorn Son swords… Crown Lord? No, Top Lord. Oops. Forlorn Son scolds Consort Mom, so Ghost Pop shows to stop Forlorn Son short.

Crown Lord books Forlorn Son’s two old school cohorts to convoy Forlorn Son to London. Forlorn Son looks on Oslo Lord’s troops. Oslo Lord’s honor grows on Forlorn Son. Cross Hotblood shows to look for Crown Lord’s blood. Lots of townsfolk show for Cross Hotblood. Crown Lord knows to look to Forlorn Son for Cross Hotblood’s honor. Cross Hotblood looks on Moon Tot, who shows odd moods. Cross Hotblood vows to knock off Forlorn Son. Moon Tot drowns.

Forlorn Son bolts both old school cohorts. Morons. Forlorn Son shows tomb-lot to Bosom Cohort. Two Tomb-lot Clowns fool to Forlorn Son. Both show Old Fool’s crown to Forlorn Son, who broods: “Forsooth, poor Old Fool. Known to stronghold folks, Bosom Cohort. How oft Old Fool told stronghold folks how to roll. How doom follows Old Fool now. Go to Mom’s room, Old Fool, show how fools rot. Mom won’t howl. Bosom Cohort, follow. Lords or lowbrows both go to worms food, or for chocks to stop hooch pots. Soft! Crown Lord shows!” Forlorn Son looks on Crown Lord, who comforts Consort Mom. Cross Hotblood sobs to go down to Moon Tot’s tomb. Forlorn Son hops down to confront Cross Hotblood. Both opt for swords.

Cross Hotblood blots hot sword. Crown Lord blots strong port. Both form doom for Forlorn Son. Forlorn Son shows. Forlorn Son bows to Cross Hotblood for Top Lord boo-boo. Both hold swords for sport row. Both go. Crown Lord holds port to honor Forlorn Son. Forlorn Son longs not for port. Consort Mom downs strong port. Oops.

Forlorn Son shows strong to notch two blows on Cross Hotblood. Cross Hotblood swords Forlorn Son. Ow! Forlorn Son swords Cross Hotblood, who drops hot sword. Forlorn Son now holds Cross Hotblood’s hot sword. Cross Hotblood now holds Forlorn Son’s cold sword. Forlorn Son swords Cross Hotblood, who knows both now look on doom. Consort Mom drops from strong port. Cross Hotblood told Forlorn Son of hot sword, of strong port, of Crown Lord’s non-honor. Forlorn Son swords Crown Lord, floods Crown Lord’s gob of strong port. “Follow Mom!” Crown Lord drops off.

Forlorn Son looks to Cross Hotblood. Both smooth off storms of loss for honor. Cross Hotblood drops off. Forlorn Son stoops down. Forlorn Son sponsors Oslo Lord to hold crown now. Forlorn Son drops off. Bosom Cohort croons: “Good morrow, good crown lord’s son. Go to God on good songs.” London Lord shows to post word of Forlorn Son’s two old school cohorts lost. Oslo Lord shows, now top dog. Both sob for loss. Oslo Lord drops word for troops to go shoot.

I was planning to post a Greek Tragedy 24 as a follow-up to last month’s Shakespeare 24, but it turned out to be much too derivative. Part of the problem seems to be that the two genres being parodied are much too close to make such a union humorous. In fact, I would go so far as to say that 24 is today’s answer to the ancient Greek tragedy. A statement like that requires some explanation.

The most obvious similarity is the real-time format. Ancient Greek drama was, for the most part, presented in real time. The audience of that age would not have accepted the traditional story-telling techniques that we take for granted today, such as flash-backs and multiple locations. Aristotle’s unity of time is often translated as meaning that the action of a play must take place within 24 hours (which would have worked just as well for this comparison), but Aristotle never actually wrote this, and if you read the plays, they could pretty much take place in the time you spent watching them. The plays start after most of the action has already happened, and the main character is about an hour and a half away from the great reversal of fortune and recognition he has coming. During the play, characters come in and out, but the audience usually stays put. Oedipus realizes that he needs to speak with someone and has to summon him and wait for him to come, unless he just happened to have already summoned him on another matter and, oh look, here he comes now. Audiences of the time had no problem accepting that sort of thing, I suppose. Shakespeare did not have to play by these rules for his audiences, shifting his scenes between Rome and Egypt in Antony and Cleopatra, and famously skipping over sixteen years in The Winter’s Tale, to name just two examples.

Similarly, when Briscoe and Curtis (or whoever the current line-up on Law & Order is this year) get a lead on a suspect, we can immediately cut to them arriving on the scene. When Jack Bauer gets a lead on a suspect, he actually has to physically get to the location. It’s worth noting that only the unity of time, not place or action, is observed. The show can easily switch back and forth between Washington DC and Los Angeles, and have multiple story lines going at the same time. But what the real-time format does for both 24 and Greek tragedy is to give an immediacy to the events being depicted. We can feel like this is something happening in front of us in the moment. When our hero is faced with a choice to make, he has to make it right now, even if it is an impossible choice.

This element of the impossible choice is crucial to both 24 and Greek tragedy. Greek playwrights would often show characters torn between their solemn duties to their oikos (family) and their polis (state). Agamemnon is told that the goddess Artemis will not allow him to sail to Troy unless he sacrifices his daughter Iphigeneia. He now must choose between his responsibility to the polis to wage war with Troy and his responsibility to the oikos to protect his daughter. There is no right answer, only two wrong ones. In true Jack Bauer fashion, he puts national security first, and offers up the kid. Antigone makes the opposite choice. She is told by King Creon that she may not bury her traitorous brother, and she has a duty to obey. But she also has a duty to bury her brother, and she makes that decision – which she will ultimately suffer for. Actions have consequences, and the characters are willing to accept those consequences even when they did not have a better choice.

Similarly, characters on 24 are often put in situations where they have to choose between oikos and polis, between someone they personally care about and national security. National security on this show is less about “protecting our way of life” and more about “millions of people will die” if we don’t stop the threat. Either way, there will be serious consequences. The show finds just those moments where the “right thing to do” is something that most of us couldn’t do. But Jack Bauer can, and he becomes elevated to the level of the mythical hero.

And there we find another similarity. Ancient Greek dramas were often set at a time when, for the Greeks, the mythological overlapped with the legendary. Gods interacted with humans, and humans were a special breed of heroes. The stories did not have to be realistic – their mythical nature allowed the playwrights to explore larger themes. In 24, events are contrived to fit the real-time format, and we accept it. Jack is able to shuttle around from location to location in record time, and we accept it. Most of all, Jack is able to embody the courage, resolve, and self-sacrifice that we admire in our present-day heroes. He does so far beyond what any human would actually be capable of doing. And we accept that, too. In our post-9/11 world, that’s the larger theme.

To sum up: Shakespeare 24 – Very funny. Greek Tragedy 24 – Too “on the nose” to really be funny. But I enjoyed coming to that recognition, and now I am pleased to share it with you.

Sonnet LV:

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rime;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone, besmear’d with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword nor war’s quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
‘Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

Through brilliant sonnet rendered fifty-five,
Our poet really gives his honored trust,
In vows to quill his subject still alive,
While royals’ crypts in stone shall fall to dust;
But in short times who really truly knew,
Some simpler verse should many moons endure?
Imagine what this tribute should construe,
If real immortal fame were promised sure.
Fans read with universal lilting rote,
To wonder who that dreamboat could have been
Who should inspire this sonorous rhymed note,
As boy Fate slyly’s rolling such a grin:
All fame went to the author of that rhyme,
And not this unknown person lost to time.

So, this article has been getting a lot of attention on the Internet, and I feel I need to respond:

In a radio programme to be aired today, Scots historian Fiona Watson and literary expert Molly Rourke claim the story of Macbeth was penned by a Scottish monk on St Serf’s Island in the middle of Loch Leven 400 years before William Shakespeare even drew breath.

Pause for laughter.

In Macbeth the Highland King to be broadcast on BBC Radio Scotland, Watson says Macbeth and his wife, Gruoch, were in fact “respected, God-fearing folk”.

According to Watson, the “almost entirely fantastical view” of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth drawn by William Shakespeare is lifted, almost word for word in places, from a collection of folklore recorded by St Serf’s monk, Andrew de Wyntoun.

Wow, there’s so much wrong with that, it’s hard to know where to start.

First of all, the “almost word for word” case is never made, at least not in the article. The few points of similarity between the two texts that are mentioned are dealt with below. But there really was a historical Macbeth, and so any two accounts of his life are bound to have some similarities, whether they be historical or legendary.

Did Shakespeare have an “almost entirely fantastical view” of Macbeth? Yes. He was a playwright, not a historian. He often made changes to history to suit his dramatic purposes. That’s what he’s supposed to do. He was also writing for King James, who was a direct descendant of both Malcolm and Banquo. So of course he’s going to make them good and noble and make Macbeth a savage butcher. He knew which side of his bread was buttered.

Also, the Andrew Wyntoun text is from 1420. How is that “400 years before William Shakespeare even drew breath” which he first did in 1564? And if the text really were from 1164, it would not be at all readable to a twenty-first century English-only speaker, as this text somewhat is. Check it out.

But the most striking part of the article is that it completely ignores the fact that we already know what Shakespeare’s source was for the events described. It was Raphael Holinshed’s The Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland. In fact, not only was Holinshed’s Chronicles a major source for Macbeth, but also for King Lear, Cymbeline, and all ten of Shakespeare’s history plays. If you don’t know that, it’s easy to be taken in by the following observation in the article:

Referring to Shakespeare’s prophecy that Macbeth shall be safe until Birnham Wood comes to Dunsinane and that no-one “of woman born” shall harm Macbeth, Rourke explained in Wyntoun’s work: “The person [Macbeth's mother] met later came and saw her, gave her a ring, and prophesied about what was going to happen in the future. One of the things he said was that this child they’d had would never be killed by man born of woman. Wyntoun also recorded that Macbeth believed he’d never be conquered until the wood of Birnham came to Dunsinane.”

Thanks to the wonderful Furness Collection at the University of Pennsylvania, we can see the source for this on Page 174 of the Historie of Scotland section of Holinshed’s Chronicles:

And suerlie herevpon had he put Makduffe to death, but that a certaine witch, whom hee had in great trust, had told that he should neuer be slaine with man borne of anie woman, nor vanquished till the wood of Bernane came to the castell of Dunsinane.

The witch told Macbeth, like the apparitions do in the play, not a person telling Macbeth’s mother and giving her a ring.

The article continues on with reckless abandon:

The historians claim another element of Wyntoun found in Shakespeare is the three witches that open the play. Wyntoun wrote: “Ane nicht, he thoucht while he was sa settled [that] he saw three women, and they women then thoucht he three Wierd Sisters most like to be.

“The first he heard say, ganging by, ‘lo, yonder the Thane of Cromarty’.

“T’other woman said again ‘of Moray, yonder I see the Thane’.

“The third said ‘yonder I see the king’.”

Rourke and Watson say the resemblance to the witches’ prophesy in Shakespeare’s Macbeth – in which the first hails him as “Thane of Glames”, the second as “Thane of Cawdor” and the third proclaims he shall “be King hereafter” – is too great to be co-incidental.

We simply need to turn back to page 170 of Holinshed to see where Shakespeare found this, and thanks to the extraordinary Folger collection we can see a much easier-to-read copy of Holinshed’s version of the story:

Shortlie after happened a strange and vncouth woonder, which afterward was the cause of much trouble in the realme of Scotland as ye shall after heare. It fortuned as Makbeth and Banquho iournied towards Fores, where the king then laie, they went sporting by the waie togither without other company saue onelie themselues, passing thorough the woods and fields, when suddenlie in the middest of a laund, there met them three women in strange and wild apparell, resembling creatures of elder world, whome when they attentiuelie beheld, woondering much at the sight, the first of them spake and said: All haile Makbeth, thane of Glammis (for he had latelie entered into that dignitie and office by the death of his father Sinell). The second of them said: Haile Makbeth thane of Cawder. But the third said: All haile Makbeth that heereafter shalt be king of Scotland.

I’ll allow you to examine that scene in Shakespeare and decide for yourself which of these two accounts was most likely Shakespeare’s source.

It’s entirely possible that Wyntoun’s work was a source for Holinshed (or Harrison, Leland, etc.), or a source of a source, or at some point they had a common source. But the idea suggested by this article, that Shakespeare somehow “lifted” Macbeth from Wyntoun, is absurd.

UPDATE: A follow-up post.

Well, I’m off to the Shakespeare Teacher conference. I’m very excited about attending, but it means that I may have to step away from the blog for a few days. I’ll post when I can, but I’ll probably be more interested in blogging about the conference than in keeping up with my regular features.

But what if I could leave behind just one post that combines all of my regular features for the week? Why, we’d just have to call that a Shakespeare Teacher Special Feature! Here’s how it breaks down:

• I. Please find below eight brand-new riddles. This should more than satisfy fans of the Thursday Morning Riddle. Each answer will be one word. Please tell us which number you’re solving and your one-word answer.
• II. Once the riddles have been solved, place the eight one-word answers in the Venn Diagram below, using the numbers as guides. This will be your Conundrum. Can you guess the rules? Venn diagram explanation and sample here.
• III. The answer to Circle A (Riddles 1,3,5,7) will be a place. To stand in for the fact vs. fiction Headline Game, can you name three fictional television shows (of at least four seasons each) that are set in this real-life place?
• IV. The answer to Circle B (Riddles 2,3,6,7) will be a question. This is the Question of the Week. Once the games are done, feel free to discuss this question in the comments below. I have already registered my opinion elsewhere on the blog.
• V. The answer to Circle C (Riddles 7,4,6,5) will be a historical person. I was able to link this person to Sir Francis Bacon in four degrees, though that shouldn’t stop you from posting a longer response, or looking for a shorter one. Entries will be accepted until midnight on Thursday, March 22.

Use the comments section below to register any and all answers, discussion, and comments. I won’t be around much the next couple of days to moderate this, so please work together. If someone posts an answer you think is right, go ahead and say so and offer some words of encouragement. Also, feel free to pass this along to anyone you think may be interested. Here is the direct link.

If this is all too overwhelming or confusing, then just enjoy these eight riddles, and I’ll be back soon to talk about something simple, like Shakespeare.

The Riddles:

1. I act Maynard G. Krebs, and I Gilligan feign;
I’m the Mile High hub; leaving on a jet plane;
With the dinosaurs gone, I’m the last to remain;
And peppers, ham, onions, and eggs I contain.

2. I’m a weave, or the shirt type for which it is known;
I’m the college of Thatcher and William Gladstone;
I’m an unabridged lexicon, standing alone;
And I’m also the clay that preserves a fish bone.

3. I was first worn by Chaplin before his divorce;
I’m a race to be run by a three-year-old horse;
When in cars, I’m a wreck; when on skates, I use force;
And the kids on their soap boxes follow my course.

4. I’m the former first lady of all New York State;
A Nobel-winning chemist who won for a date;
A survivor on Lost with too sudden a fate;
And an ex-Cheney aide who is now an inmate.

5. A brigade made of Wolverines served my command,
When the Sioux and Cheyenne boldy tried to expand.
But the Little Big Horn didn’t go quite as planned,
When I stood up to Sitting Bull – that’s my last stand.

6. If you’re bringing me home, it can be quite a slog;
You can link me to Hoffman or to Skip the Dog;
I’m a fried strip of meat from the gut of a hog;
And a regular feature right here on the blog.

7. I am not Robert Browning, but captured his soul;
I am Stanton, and Hurley, and Taylor, and Dole;
Though I lost that which Shakespeare in Love from me stole;
It was won back by Helen for playing my role.

8. Both the lion and lamb are my two weather guides;
I’m the music of Sousa; the steps it provides;
When in basketball, madness; in history, strides;
In the middle, a novel; Beware of the Ides!

Who are we? 

UPDATE: Riddles 1-6 and 8 solved by Andrew.  Riddle 7 solved by DeLisa.  Circles B and C solved by Annalisa.  See comments for all answers. 

I found this really compelling, both in form and content:

I gave my take on the long-term ramifications of this in earlier posts Beggar’s Canyon and Optimism. What really struck me about this video was the idea that HTML tags define the form, while XML tags define the content. So when text from an XML document is exported, it can be classified and formatted by any number of disparate machines. That’s why I can have a blog, because I can just fill in fields in a form, rather than having to understand what a MySQL database is, or how to create one.

I also enjoyed the idea of the users of the Internet teaching the Internet about ideas that only humans can have. What is a hyperlink if not one person’s definition of the relationship between two realms of information? And with machines powerful enough to process those definitions in the aggregate, the Internet becomes an über-democratic negotiation about the nature of meaning. It’s a step beyond Wikipedia, where anyone can visit to add or revise content. It’s Google News, which proactively aggregates news stories from thousands of sources worldwide.

What about pictures? How can we really search for images, when computers can only see them in pixels? Some people tag their photos, but that’s just a start. Enter schemes like The ESP Game in which players log in and are randomly assigned an anonymous partner. The pair is then shown images and they have to come up with words to describe each image. Once they agree on a word, they may move on to the next image. They win if they can label a certain number of images in the pre-determined time. It’s packaged as a game, but what it’s really doing is finding humans to complete a task that computers can’t do, which is label a large quantity of images, so that they can join this network of information.

Some might be troubled by the thought of the “average” person defining the nature of information. Don’t we have specialists and experts who constitute a small minority of the population, but who can give us a much richer understanding of their field of study? Yes, and as their influence grows, we will be able to identify and access them much more easily through the shared mind of the Web. And they, in turn, will have greater access and ability to share their ideas with a wider audience. It will be a pure meritocracy.

There’s a website, FaceResearch.org, that allows you to digitally create the average of a number of different faces that you select or upload to their site. They discuss the hypothesis that the more average a face looks, the more attractive it is perceived to be. This may be partially because average faces tend to be more symmetrical and have smoother skin. But it’s a wonderfully egalitarian idea, if you think about it. The most attractive among us may not be any one of us, but may just be the average of all of us.

Web 2.0, then, may ultimately be a way of taking the average of all of our conceptions of the world and finding the most attractive face, the essential truths of human understanding, heretofore locked only within our collective unconscious. And then we may say, along with John Keats:

‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty, – that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’

Before clinical depression was first diagnosed, a person afflicted with the condition was referred to as melancholy. It was believed that our physical and emotional states were determined by the distribution of the four humours, or bodily fluids, each of which had a different effect if it fell out of balance. If you had an excess of black bile, for example, you were melancholic, and would seem moody and sad. Today, we understand this to be depression, but in Shakespeare’s time, the humours were the best science of the day, and the affliction was called melancholy.

Melancholy can be found throughout Shakespeare. Don John begins Much Ado About Nothing in a sadness. Hamlet is definitely depressed, and is often given the nickname The Melancholy Dane. You might argue that they both have reason to be. But Antonio’s first line of The Merchant of Venice, in fact the first line of the play, “In sooth, I know not why I am so sad,” leaves little doubt that Shakespeare was familiar with the concept of clinical depression by another name.

After Hamlet, perhaps the most famous melancholic in Shakespeare is Jaques from As You Like It. He is referred to in the play as “the melancholy Jaques” and even seems to take some pleasure in the description himself. From this, we might gather that he is depressed as well. But I would actually argue that he’s bipolar.

Bipolar disorder (which also used to be misdiagnosed as melancholy) is characterized by extreme mood swings between depression and bursts of manic energy. People with bipolar disorder used to be called manic depressive. And even though it wasn’t known about in Shakespeare’s time, Shakespeare must have been aware of different ways that “melancholy” affected certain people, and wrote Jaques as bipolar. How else can we explain the outburst by “the melancholy Jaques” in the beginning of Act 2, Scene 7:

A fool, a fool! I met a fool i’ the forest,
A motley fool; a miserable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool;
Who laid him down and bask’d him in the sun,
And rail’d on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
“Good morrow, fool,” quoth I. “No, sir,” quoth he,
“Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune.”
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, “It is ten o’clock;
Thus may we see,” quoth he, “how the world wags:
“Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more ’twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then from hour to hour we rot and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale.” When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley’s the only wear.

Does that sound depressed to you? Does it sound neutral? Or does it sound manic? In addition to the numerous exclamation points, the exaggerated repetition (used as an emphatic) and run-on sentences (notice how many lines begin with “And”) seem to indicate manic speech patterns. Hamlet doesn’t have any speeches like that, or if he does, they are soliloquies, and can be more closely equated to the thoughts racing through his own mind than to his behavior in public.

Depression is marked by listlessness and inaction. Hamlet is almost defined by his inaction. He is withdrawn and other characters must come to him. But throughout As You Like It, Jaques actively seeks out relationships and interactions with the other characters, first with Amiens and the other lords, then with Touchstone (off-stage), then with the Duke Senior and his assembly, then with Orlando (!), then with Touchstone again, then with Ganymede/Rosalind (!!), and finally with Duke Frederick (!!!). He may be bitter and dismissive, but he can hardly be called aloof or withdrawn. When we first hear of Jaques, he is being mocked by his friends for his melancholy, but their story is of an extremely compassionate and sensitive soul who weeps for a wounded deer.

Jaques: Melancholic, Misunderstood, Bipolar.

Oh yeah, and Bottom from A Midsummer Night’s Dream clearly has adult ADHD with delusions of grandeur. A topic, perhaps, for another time.