It's weird having a Wednesday birthday, because Wednesday is therapy day. Appropriate, I guess, given that Wednesday's child is etc. I did the same things after therapy that I usually do: looked at things in stores without buying them, strolled through the farmers' market, had an iced coffee and wrote in my notebook at the café. I found a copy of Ben Jonson's The Devil Is an Ass for sale on the dollar racks at the Strand for forty-eight cents, and I bought it because I like Ben Jonson. He's like all the fart jokes of Shakespeare without the brilliance, plus his characters are all douchebags except for a few he throws in here and there as foils for the douchebags. It makes for a rollicking psychopathic good time! The promising premise of this one is that one of Satan's minions wants to know what it's like to be human, so Satan gives him permission to put on the body of a handsome recently executed criminal and walk around in it for a day.
If anyone has the urge to read some Ben Jonson, if only to see how much better Shakespeare was than the other stuff on offer at the time, I recommend Volpone. The title character is a rich man who pretends he's dying, for the pleasure of watching all his sycophants try to fawn themselves into his will. The real douchebaggery kicks off when Volpone tries to get one of them, Corvino, to hand over his lovely and virtuous young wife for a night. There's some great period vaudeville stuff in there about how the Italians are so effete that they use forks, and there's a dwarf and an androgyne who sing, just for good measure. It's super-fun. I'd love to see it produced sometime -- or The Alchemist, which is way better than that Paolo Coelho book that people name-check on dating sites. PERSONAL LEGEND MY ASS. WHERE ARE THE FART JOKES.