Today let me introduce you to a phrase "it defeats the purpose".
Or in a more accurate terminology, "it freaking defeats the purpose", for the sake of telling what this is about.
So, ladies and gentlemen, tomorrow we're going to present our adaptation of Shakespeare play.
The Taming of the Shrew.
Which is supposed to due on 18th of April.
How wonderful? All of a sudden the due date is changed to tomorrow, when we can actually have about three weeks to prepare.
Oh well, maybe all the microteachings and assessments are not enough to torment us.
Really, I have nothing against Shakespeare or acting in a play.
But tomorrow, you see, who will have all the time in the world to watch the play?
At 9 a.m. that is, while everyone is in the middle of finishing pile of unending assignments?
The answer is, nobody.
And that, defeats the purpose of booking the freaking big hall -
for a play that is practiced halfway and had very-very little preparation!
And yeah, I do admit for my group,
the fault was on me and H for failing to complete the script.
I have nothing to defend myself.
I couldn't write a comedy play, that's the truth actually.
Well, you think it's easy to write a comedy alone,
something that people will laugh at when you're under pressure?
Oh maybe it's easy, it's just me.
I only know funny, when it's bloody. I laugh only at dark humors.
Of course, I'm kidding you and I'm kidding myself as well.
No, no, no, I just failed.
what's the purpose of rushing to book the hall for a play that's half-baked?
What are we trying to achieve?
Whatever it is,
now I could care less as long as it is done.
Now I'll shut up.