I am ten to the fifth, or a figure of speech;
I’m the meters above us where space we first breach;
Former candy bar, Pyramid (name changed for each);
And the hits an illustrious weblog can reach.
Who am I?
UPDATE: Riddle solved by Asher. See comments for answer.
From Romeo and Juliet:
But, let them measure us by what they will,
We’ll measure them a measure, and be gone.
Shift around the letters, and it becomes:
The melee damage-buy seems mutual where Rahm blew a test-result law by the union.
Oops, I did it again! This is the seventh of a series of pop-music parodies for Shakespeare fans.
Enjoy!
Thought We Were Friends
sung to the tune of “Till the World Ends”(With apologies to Britney Spears and, yeah, Shakespeare…)
Been servant to you for my whole life, you see.
Never seen you behave so abnormally.Although you are my master,
Your words are a disaster.
I tell you of your honey;
You ask me for your money.
I ask you if you’re eating;
You answer with a beating.
Master, say, is everything all right?I can’t take it, take it, take no more.
Never been like, been like this before.
C’mon get me, get me off the floor.
Master, what’d you, what’d you beat me for?* * * Say what else, but I know what I know did pass.
Being kicked, I should kick, if I were an ass.You brought home guests for dinner;
The doors were locked from inner.
You left mad with the goldsmith;
A rope you said come back with.
Then, my task completing,
I earn another beating.
Master, say, is everything all right?I can’t take it, take it, take no more.
Never been like, been like this before.
C’mon get me, get me off the floor.
Master, what’d you, what’d you beat me for?* * * If you beat me, I must take it.
But I really thought we were friends.
I’m the servant; you’re the master.
But I really thought we were friends.But I really thought we were friends.
But I really thought we were friends.
I make power from blades, or a large water wheel;
I grind coffee or pepper, increase their appeal;
British writer who showed libertarian zeal;
And a factory churning out paper or steel.
Who am I?
UPDATE: Riddle solved by Daweesa. See comments for answer.
From Julius Caesar:
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts:
I am no orator, as Brutus is;
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,
That love my friend; and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him.
Shift around the letters, and it becomes:
Naturally suave Bill Clinton stumps for pal Obama, takes his aim at a wordy, awesome, truthful venue keynote.
A main theme was that he could probably talk us all into voting for Romney if he wanted to.
This is the sixth of a series of parodies, in which I change the lyrics to a popular song to make it about Shakespeare.
Enjoy!
Mourn This Way
sung to the tune of “Born This Way”(With apologies to Lady Gaga and, I guess, Weird Al Yankovic…)
It doesn’t matter if you loved him,
Or capital M-O-M.
Just throw some black on,
‘Cause you can mourn this way, baby!My mama told me when I was young,
I’d one day become the king.
But when my father died, my uncle did,
While she was glad to wear his ring.And now I’m seeing my father’s ghost;
“Avenge my unnatural death” he’ll say.
I’ll fool my uncle, keep him off his guard,
With the crafty madness I can play.I’m gonna change how I look,
Then read some words from a book,
And I’ll wear all black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.I’m gonna put on a show;
I’ll get my uncle to go,
And I’ll wear all black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.Mourn this way!
Oh, I’ll watch him at the play.
Maybe I can mourn this way.
Maybe I can mourn this way.Mourn this way!
Oh, I’ll watch him at the play.
Maybe I can mourn this way.
All black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.
I’m not a king; I’m just a prince.
I’m not a king; I’m just a prince.
I’m not a king; I’m just a prince.My uncle murdered Dad and took his crown;
I know just how far fetched that sounds.
But now the king’s fled from the play, so I’ll
Take the ghost’s word for a thousand pounds.“Direct your vengeance against the king,
But not capital M-O-M.” Hey, hey, hey!
If I confront her, then the ghost will come:
Truepenny, hic et ubique.And now my girlfriend’s gone mad,
Because I murdered her dad,
And I wore all black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.I took a trip with some friends;
Too bad they’ll now meet their ends,
While I wear all black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.Oh, I sent them on their way.
Maybe I can mourn this way.
Maybe I can mourn this way.Mourn this way!
Oh, I sent them on their way.
Maybe I can mourn this way.
All black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.
I’m not a king; I’m just a prince.
Hereditary governments
Have quite a lot to answer for
In Copenhagen, Elsinore!And soon I’ll need to fear no toil,
I’ll shuffle off this mortal coil,
So get yourself some black today,
‘Cause, baby, you can mourn this way.No matter king, queen, or knave,
Prince, yeoman, beggar, or slave;
You gotta wear black, baby,
When you mourn at my grave.No matter Danish, German,
Norwegian, Pole, Swede, or Finn;
You gotta wear black, baby,
So your mourn can begin.Out to the graveyard I’ll go,
Talk to this skull that I know,
And I’ll wear all black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.I’ll match Laertes with swords,
Then get my final rewards,
And you’ll wear all black, baby,
‘Cause you’ll mourn this way, yeah.Oh, this is my final day.
Horatio, you’ll mourn this way.
Maybe you can mourn this way.Mourn this way!
Oh, this is my final day.
Horatio, you’ll mourn this way.
All black, baby,
‘Cause you’ll mourn this way.You can mourn this way, hey!
You can mourn this way, hey!
Just wear all black, baby,
You can mourn this way, hey!You can mourn this way, hey!
You can mourn this way, hey!
Just wear all black, baby,
You can mourn this way, hey!I’m DOA, so mourn this way…
I’m DOA, so mourn this way…
I’m the visual arts, whether painting or clay;
I’m the thinnest of pen points; a light misty spray;
I am quality china; a top Cabernet;
Or, for minor transgressions, the money you pay.
Who am I?
UPDATE: Riddle solved by Asher. See comments for answer.
From Macbeth:
O! these flaws and starts—
Impostors to true fear—would well become
A woman’s story at a winter’s fire,
Authoriz’d by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces? When all’s done
You look but on a stool.
Shift around the letters, and it becomes:
Don’t worry for famous Clint Eastwood.
Honestly, that slowed hokey bit where he was lecturing to a fantasized Obama seems somewhat normal.
Sure, all the rest of your famous Republicans always do.
Kudos!
This is the fifth of a series of parodies, where I change the lyrics to a popular song to make it about Shakespeare.
And now, it has come to this.
Feste And I Know It
sung to the tune of “Sexy And I Know It”(With apologies to LMFAO and the greater Internet community…)
Yeah, Yeah…
When I get harangued… I see no colors, ‘cause I’m too well hanged.
I’ve a motley style… when Olivia’s sad, I can make her smile, yeah.
I’m nonchalant… I have free license, say what I want.
You put me down, you get your comeuppance.
To be in your shoes, man, I wouldn’t give twopence. (Nah!)Ah…girl, look at that coxcomb.
Ah…girl, look at that coxcomb.
Ah…girl, look at that coxcomb.
Uh uh, I’m no fool!Ah…girl, look at that coxcomb.
Ah…girl, look at that coxcomb.
Ah…girl, look at that coxcomb.
Uh uh, I’m no fool!When I jest in the streets, yeah, you like what you see. (What, ho!)
Maybe you’d consider some money for me.
I have a clownish kind of wit and I ain’t afraid to show it, show it, show it, show it…
I’m Feste and I know it.I’m Feste and I know it.
Yo, I never cease… but I can’t begin if I hold my peace.
I live by the tabor… and by the church, ’cause it is my neighbor. (Faith!)
Olivia’s harried… she’ll have no fool ‘till she be married.
When madmen and prisoners get too obdurate,
Illyria knows me as Topaz the Curate. (Vox!)Ah…girl, look at that coxcomb.
Ah…girl, look at that coxcomb.
Ah…girl, look at that coxcomb.
Uh uh, I’m no fool!Ah…girl, look at that coxcomb.
Ah…girl, look at that coxcomb.
Ah…girl, look at that coxcomb.
Uh uh, I’m no fool!When I jest in the streets, yeah, you like what you see. (What, ho!)
Maybe you’d consider some money for me.
I have a clownish kind of wit and I ain’t afraid to show it, show it, show it, show it…
I’m Feste and I know it.I’m Feste and I know it.
Check it out! Check it out!
Giggle, giggle, giggle, giggle, giggle, yeah.
Giggle, giggle, giggle, giggle, giggle, yeah.
Giggle, giggle, giggle, giggle, giggle, yeah.
Giggle, giggle, giggle, giggle, giggle, yeah.Make you giggle, man. Make you giggle, man. Yeah.
I’m Feste and I know it.
When Olympic, I’m big, though in yards, I am small;
I’m the genes of a group; I’m the workers on call;
When the office collectively takes bets from all;
And the game that you play with your cue in the hall.
Who am I?
UPDATE: Riddle solved by Asher. See comments for answer.