|The site of the original Globe Theater.|
Not the photo you expected, is it?
Now, we can get into what was really said a.) by the soothsayer, and b.) by Caesar when he was stabbed 23 times at the Theater of Pompey, but I am lazy and Wikipedia can do that just fine for me. The point here, Company, is that from the minute that the first actor uttered that famous phrase "Beware the Ides of March" at the Globe Theater in 1590-whatever the Ides of March, and the idea that bad things will happen upon them, has sort of been a self-fulfilling prophesy. We know the phrase, we've seen the play, we've seen the band Ides of March perform - probably at a casino somewhere - and we have sort of just begun to believe that things are going to bad on this day.
And they often do. I walked into the office wing of the Worldwide Headquarters this morning and was expecting things to go to shit because "Beware the Ides of March" and so it was. I spent the entire day fixing things that I neglected to pay an intern to fix ten years ago. And it was annoying and stupid. Because I expected it to be. And so it was.
So what do we do, Big Dave? How do we defeat this? How do we make this end? Well, Company, I don't think that we do. The easiest answer is that we defy Journey and simply stop believing. Remove the oxygen and the flames will die. Insert other metaphor/simile/comparison here. But truthfully, I don't want it to end. There is something sort of mystically and magically human about the whole thing. A bunch of guys in togas invent a calendar based on the moon, name a random day in the middle of the month, then stab their leader on that day. Sixteen hundred years later a guy writes a play about it, and we just sort of take things from there and create something mythical. It's the Ides of March and shit is going to go sideways. It is all in our minds but we MAKE IT HAPPEN just through the sheer force of will. Unintentional will. Through the ether. It is unbelievable, the power of the mind and the will. Let's not squash it. Or things might get weird. Beware the Ides of March, indeed.