Talking Bad Bard

Breaking Bad ends, Walter poisons somebody in Prague with ricin (he's been itching to use ricin since Season One), mows down the white power militia by remote control automatic fire, gets shot, saves Jesse, drops dead, and, right after a commercial break, there are the writer, actors, and errant if not completely pointless characters, taking it all apart in front of the camera, or, more precisely glad-handing each other about how swell it all was, and what fine things they are sure it did for their careers.

Makes me think that right after, say, Othello opened, Will and the cast sit down to publicly jaw about the "experience" of making it.

Jaw Bone - Will, man, that was unbelievable, yo! Give it up for Will!

Will - Nah, it was Desi that made it happen, Iago, and, of course, the big O.

Bone - But what about that slinky Iago cat, Will? What up with him? Why he so bad?!

Will - Dunno. Haven't the least idea what's bugging him. No clue. He just kind of annoyed the crap out of me. So I thought I’d drop him on the big O, see what happens.

Iago: Yeah, I never knew what made me so mean and evil. Was it something I ate? Hah hah hah. But I dug it! Whispering all that stuff in the big O's ear, and then he wrings the blonde's neck!?

STICK WITH US. WE'LL HEAR FROM THE BIG O HIMSELF WHEN WE RETURN FROM THIS BREAK.

HEY, GIVE IT UP FOR O!!!

. . .

. . .

Some episodes later

Talking Bad Bard

Bone - Will, but what the heck with Hamlet? Don't get me wrong. I mean, I like it! What's not to like? Ghosts, murders, crazy dreams, that weird chick drowning herself, guys talking aloud to themselves. What do you call that, anyway?

Will - It's known in the trade as soliloquizing.

Bone - Yeah, like when I talk to my wife.

Will - Or she to you, no doubt.

Bone - Touché.

But Will, what the heck with Hamlet?

Will - I try to avoid talking about Hamlet.

How about we switch to the Sonnets?
   CXLVII

   My love is as a fever longing still,

   For that which longer nurseth the disease;

. . .

Bone - CXLVII is cool, man, and so is LXXIII. XCIV happens to be a a personal fave. But, y'know, like these are poems, man. Hamlet is something else. Everybody but everybody dies, right? I think so, anyway. The plot is a bit sticky about who dies and who is dead already.

Will - Fortinbras doesn't die.

Bone - Fortinbras? Who the F. . . is Fortinbras? Anybody? Help me with Fortinbras?

OK, OK, so  Fortinbras doesn't die. I'll take your word. But Hamlet, what's his face the King, what's her face the Queen, that ghost? These are dead people, right? Dead or almost dead or soon to be dead people talking. Kinda like a zombie thing.

Will - Hamlet wasn't my idea. I just work here. I just write the stuff. They made me do it.

Bone - They!?!?

Will - I couldn't wiggle out of doing Hamlet.

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Talking Bad Bard