Charles Dickens walks into a bar.
He lists the origin and history of the entire liquor selection. He describes the shape of every beer tap. He gives a presentation on the origin of the unique woods in his rigid barstool.
A voice calls to him, “Come here and know me better man.”
A massive buffoon in a proto-Santa suit nearly chokes on a Turkey leg as he stabs a fat hand at a shelve of books and draws out A Tale of Two Cities.
“It was the best of times,” he chuckles. “Etcetera.” He guffaws.
“It was all those things you greedy fellow,” the fat man chuckles. “Always is, I suppose. Wouldn’t hurt to pick a side all the same.”
“To rape the bard,” the jolly apparition continued. “All the world’s a stage, and authenticity sells the role, but the one that daddy give’s you shouldn’t mean a thing at all. Go ask markets, they’ll commoditize it all.”
Dialectetus Spake: 