The First Folio (1623) delineates Shakespeare’s plays into three genres: Comedy, Tragedy, and History. More recent scholars added the category of Romance to describe some of his later plays, and there is also a fifth, more nebulous, category that goes by several different names, which describes plays like Troilus and Cressida that seem to defy genre.

How meaningful are these genres? Certainly, a play like King Lear has a very different tenor than, say, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s not just a question of mood, but even the rules are different. These are plays in different genres. But does this distinction hold up across the canon? Or does each play speak for itself? This is the Question of the Week.

How much stock should we put in Shakespearean genres?

And if you say that these genres are correct, I have a few follow-up questions. Perhaps you’d like to tackle one of these as well:

• Why is Macbeth a Tragedy while Richard III is a History?
• Why is As You Like It a Comedy, while The Winter’s Tale is a Romance?
• Why is Much Ado About Nothing a Comedy, while Romeo and Juliet is a Tragedy? (Is it just the ending? Is that enough to consider it a different genre?)

I was looking over the current electoral map, and I realized something extraordinary. If Obama took the states where he won by 7 percentage points or more, and McCain took all of the states where Obama won by 6 points or less, Obama would still have won the election 291 – 247. This would put Ohio, Florida, Indiana, and North Carolina in the red, but it would not have changed the outcome. Ohio may have locked in the Obama victory, but it turns out that he didn’t need it.

Looking at a traditional electoral map can be deceiving, because the states are shown in proportion to their land area. If instead, you look at a cartogram, you can see how the states compare to each other by, say, population (shown below) and you can really get a sense of how much of the country went red or blue. Professor Mark Newman from the University of Michigan has some good examples on his site:

So, is all of this just post-election gloating, or am I making a larger point? Well, it’s mostly post-election gloating; it has been a long eight years. But there is a larger point as well. President Obama will enter office with an overwhelming mandate, not to mention a friendly Congress and an enthusiastic public. I know some of my good friends are determined to cling to their cynical views, and I understand where they are coming from, but let me ask them this: If the potential for the change you want were to come along, would you recognize it? Would you believe in it? Would you do everything you could to support it? Because if this isn’t it, I don’t think we’re ever going to see it.

From Richard III:

Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac’d peace,
With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days!

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

Oh, a mosaic of midnight paeans to this worthy president-elect cried mirthful pomp.

“Yes, we can!”

I’ve always been a fan of both Rahm Emanuel and The West Wing, but only just learned, via The Media Dude, that Rahm was the model for the fictional Josh Lyman.

Josh Lyman, of course, becomes Chief of Staff for Matt Santos, as life continues to imitate art…

I’m the shape of the world, whether circle or sphere;
I’m a cartridge of ammo; or eighteen holes clear;
I’m a lean cut of meat from the back of the steer;
And the tab to buy each of your buddies a beer.

Who am I?

UPDATE: Riddle solved by Ro. See comments for answer.

I was impressed by McCain’s gracious concession speech. Typically, during these speeches, the conceding candidate’s supporters boo the winner, affording the candidate the opportunity to be portrayed as a healer by urging post-election unity. In this speech, there was some of that, but it was kept to a minimum. And when John McCain said that America had come a long way as evidenced by the election of an African American as president, the audience applauded and cheered. In my entire life, I’ve never seen a crowd applaud the opponent during a concession speech.

Obama’s speech was beautiful, as we knew it would be, but more than anything else, it was the willingness of the Republican crowd to drop the partisan rancor to acknowledge a landmark moment in American history that filled me with hope for the future of our country.

As I write this, Ohio is being called for Barack Obama, which pretty much locks in his victory tonight.

And this is a historical moment for so many reasons. It’s not just that we are going to have an African-American president, which in itself is a monumental marker of progress. It’s also about voter turnout and enthusiasm. And even the most cynical among us are daring to hope for change in this country.

For me, what makes this election remarkable is that the undecided voter wasn’t much of a factor. In the past few campaigns, the two candidates were so close that both had to court undecided voters. This leads to pandering, wedge issues, and attack ad wars.

This election was different. Between Obama’s inspirational message, McCain’s coming unglued in the final weeks, the economy in crisis, and the overwhelming Bush fatigue felt by so many of us, it was a perfect storm for the Democratic candidate. As a result, Obama had such a commanding lead that he was able to take the high road and speak directly to the issues.

McCain also tried to campaign cleanly. I never had a problem with the Joe the Plumber strategy. It never bothered me that he wasn’t a licensed plumber, wasn’t about to buy a business, would not have seen a tax hike under Obama, and wasn’t named Joe. McCain was making a point about standing up for small businesses, and Joe the Plumber was convenient shorthand. That seems fair enough.

However, the constant attempts to paint Obama as not a real American were painful to watch. Sarah Palin campaigning across the country would suggest that Obama liked to pal around with terrorists. And then there were the attack ads that used code words to appeal to the worst qualities of the electorate. I don’t think this was in the spirit of what McCain was trying to accomplish with his candidacy. But in the end, the law requires the candidate to explicitly state “I approve this message.” Ironically, it’s John McCain whom we have to thank for that law.

All of that is behind us now. We may go to sleep tonight secure in the belief that we will wake up to morning in America. And President Obama will ride a massive wave of momentum into office, only to find a friendly Congress waiting for him. His first hundred days have the promise to be extraordinary. But we must not let our enthusiasm be replaced with complacency. Change is difficult under the best of circumstances, and there will be pressure to compromise. This is still our country. This is still our government. We must be as vigilant with President Obama as we were with President Bush.

But that comes later. Tonight, we celebrate.

I’m the Shakespeare Teacher, and I approve this message.

I know, voting can be a hassle. And it really won’t make much of a difference anyway, right?

But here are ten reasons you may want to consider showing up and making your voice heard on Election Day.

10. Because It’s a Ritual

You may not be personally deciding who the next president is going to be, but taking part in the process is a ritual that has more than symbolic value. When you personally go to the polls and perform the physical act of voting, you are establishing yourself as a member of a democratic society who has an investment in the outcome. Complaining is passive; voting is active.

9. To Create a Personal Narrative

Your voting patterns over the years can form a personal history. Were you a Reagan Democrat? Did you support Perot in 1992? I still remember that, two months after I turned eighteen, I participated in my first election. I strutted into the voting booth, and proudly cast my ballot for Michael Dukakis. That’s not a good example, but I think we understand each other.

8. Because You Never Know

In 2000, the final count in the Florida election put Bush ahead by just 537 votes. This decided the election. Your state’s presidential pick may be a foregone conclusion, but there are plenty of down-ticket races where you just might make a difference. The League of Women Voters has more examples of close races.

7. Because They Don’t Want You To Vote

In this case, “They” describes the people who have the polar opposite views as you do. They disagree with you on every major issue. They would take the country – in your opinion – in the absolute wrong direction. And they hate you. They don’t want you to vote. They have invested considerable time and resources into discouraging you to vote. Drive them mad.

6. To Represent

In the post-election analysis, pundits who suddenly have a lot of time on their hands will be breaking down the data from the election to see which demographic groups had the greatest impact. The interests of those groups will be of great interest to politicians moving forward. Just ask a soccer mom. By turning out and representing your demographic, you increase the visibility of your group and its needs.

5. For a Sense of Community

They say that all politics is local, and that always makes me think of Election Day. My polling place is an elementary school gymnasium. When I arrive, there is a bake sale in progress to raise money for the school. Elderly volunteers kindly direct me to my district’s section of the gym. And when it’s my turn, I vote. I may be alone in the booth, but we’re all in this together. I always purchase a snack on my way out – it’s for a good cause.

4. To Qualify for Jury Duty

Okay, now that’s just crazy. Isn’t that a reason not to vote? No, jury duty is every bit as much of a civic duty as voting. Sure, it can be a drag. So is paying taxes, but we do it because of what we get in return. If my house is on fire, someone will come and put it out. That’s awesome! Think of jury duty as a government tax on your time. What do you get in return? You get to live in a country where, if you get arrested, you get to be judged by a jury of your peers, not the guy who arrested you. That’s awesome!

3. To Be a Part of History

One way or another, we’re going to make history tomorrow, whether we elect a black president or a female vice president. You don’t want to be able to tell your grandchildren that you voted in that election? You don’t want to be a part of that moment in time? When the results are announced, and the numbers are tallied, you don’t want to be counted among them? I think you do.

2. Because People Have Fought and Even Died For It

That one pretty much speaks for itself. People fighting for the right to vote didn’t consider it trivial. Blacks got the right to vote in 1870. Women got the right to vote in 1920. In 1971, during the Vietnam War, the voting age was lowered from 21 to 18. The reasoning was that a citizen who is old enough to be drafted to fight for the country is old enough to vote for the people who make the decisions about war. Voting is important.

1. Because Democracy is about You

The idea behind our democracy is rule by the people. There is no special class of citizens who make the decisions for the rest of us. It’s up to each of us to take part in our democracy. That’s the only way it works. It’s this incredible experiment where a people stood up and said they didn’t need a king and that they could govern themselves. When we become apathetic about that enormous responsibility, we allow the country to be taken over by interests other than our own. Voting is not only our right as citizens; it is a solemn duty.

The system is far from perfect, and you may not fully buy into all of the reasons I’ve presented. Churchill said that democracy is the worst form of government, except for all of the others. So vote for whatever reason you want. Vote to get the little sticker that says “I Voted.” Indeed, it is a powerful statement.

I’ve been watching reruns of The West Wing on Bravo. Lately, they’ve been showing episodes from the last two seasons. I am a huge fan of the show, but only have the first four seasons (the Sorkin years) on DVD, so this is a big treat for me. In some cases, I’m seeing episodes that I probably haven’t seen since they first ran.

The show is about the fictional Jed Bartlet presidency. The last two seasons focus largely on the primaries and general election to appoint Bartlet’s successor as president. After a tough primary battle, the candidates are the newcomer, charismatic Democrat Matthew Santos (Jimmy Smits), and the veteran, moderate Republican Arnold Vinick (Alan Alda). It’s a race that uncannily mirrors the current presidential contest. Watching the fictional campaigns and their behind-the-scenes strategizing was enough fun the first time around, but watching them during this election season really makes you feel like you’re sitting on the front lines.

These shows were made years ago, so they can’t really be about Obama and McCain. Or can they? My cousin, Boywonderesq, pointed me towards a New York Times article that outlines how the current Democratic nominee was, to no small degree, the model for his fictional counterpart. The article describes other similarities between the two campaigns that nobody could have predicted.

As might be expected, there are considerable differences between the two scenarios as well. First of all, Obama is way ahead in the polls, and has been for some time. The Matt Santos campaign was well behind for most of the campaign. Also, Vinick is forced to compromise on some of his issues, but refuses to pander on issues where he feels strongly. John McCain’s Straight Talk Express has been off the rails for over a year now.

I’ve always liked and respected Senator McCain. He was a national hero. He was a bipartisan leader. And, yes, he was a maverick. More than anything else, watching these reruns of The West Wing gave me a glimpse into something I feel cheated out of: the chance to see that McCain, my McCain, run for president. Instead, the desire to win and the stress of the campaign trail has made him seem like little more than a snarling, pandering, rambling shell of his former self.

Senator McCain was on Saturday Night Live last night. He was relaxed, amiable, and even funny. One thing seemed clear to me: he knows it’s over, and that he’s lost. There was the old John McCain, ready to reach across the aisle one last time and have a good laugh at his own expense.

I doubt Obama will follow the example of Matt Santos and offer McCain Secretary of State. But I must admit that episode seemed a little less silly than it did when it first aired.

I just got back from seeing Oliver Stone’s W and, since I’m writing again, I wanted to share my thoughts about it with you. But since it’s Saturday, I thought I’d do it as an anagram.

I chose a speech where Shakespeare apologizes for the inadequacies of the stage to depict the lives of kings. Perhaps it will mitigate the anagrammed review to follow.

From Henry V:

O! for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention;
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene.
Then should the war-like Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,
Leash’d in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire
Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all,
The flat unraised spirits that hath dar’d
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
So great an object: can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt?
O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place a million;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confin’d two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder:
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts:
Into a thousand parts divide one man,
And make imaginary puissance;
Think when we talk of horses that you see them
Printing their proud hoofs i’ the receiving earth;
For ’tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there, jumping o’er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue-like your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

After seeing Oliver Stone’s W, I don’t know what I’m supposed to make of it.

A humdrum bio-pic? How do you paint an intimate portrait of a person who isn’t reflective?

A thorough historical piece? No. They skip the key moments of his presidency and hop through the punchlines and nicknames (Guru, Genius, etc.). And his happy-hour past? Chugs, not drugs.

A dark comedy? Man, it’s too soon for humor. The joke’s on us.

A peek at the decision to take out Iraq? Hardly. Those scenes were as fluffy as my popcorn. I was hungry for more.

A high political drama? Primary Colors offers insight into Clinton. This limited film provides only a caricature of W.

Furthermore, I thought Newton and even Brolin got lost in the karaoke impressions they used. On the other hand, Scott Glenn as grumpy thug Rumsfeld and Jeffrey Wright as thoughtful gent Powell were not credible in their characters.

Mr. Dreyfuss as warmonger Cheney and Ms. Banks as earthier Laura threaded that tough needle handily; they brought forth people in accordance with their characters.

The standout of the group was patriarchal James Cromwell as Bush Sr., his dad. The tricky father/son relationship (fights, in lieu of hugs) is the human heart of the film. But nothing is ever resolved.

The film W tried to eke out too many things without doing any of them particularly well. It had many inaccurate facts, had no clear direction, and lasted too long. In short, it was W.