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Weather to Ski or not to Ski may not be the question. (Those with a familiarity with Shakespeare may get a grin or a tear from this)

post #1 of 4
Thread Starter 

A Skiers Lament

 

Now is the winter of our delight 
Made foul summer by these suns of petroleum;
And all the pow that lour’d upon our slopes
To the distant bosom of the Antarctic banished.
Now are our brows burnt and eyes stung with dust;
Our bruised planks and boards hung up for monuments;
Our merry whoops changed to cries of sorrow;
Our sick lines but a distant memory.
Grim heat has wrinkled winters smooth front;
And now, instead of mounting powder skis
To surf deep pillows on softened steeps,
We caper nimbly no longer in our winter wonderland
But despair at the sight of rocks and mud… and weep.

post #2 of 4
Nice! I do say this with far more empathy for the lament and with more appreciation for the work than it might suggest but anyway, thanks for the post and here goes:

"A Pow day! A pow day! My kingdom for a pow day!"

Also, tough to ski and it must be tough to keep a good form when one is so
"rudely stamped, so deformed, unfinished
sent before [your] time into this breathing world, scarce half made up
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at [you as you ski by]"

Sorry, I just find those lines from the play particularly hilarious, albiet a bit insensitive for modern times. He was evil becaus he was wretched. Like an episode of Walker or an 80s ski movie.

Cheers!
Edited by HooDooThere - 2/21/16 at 10:38am
post #3 of 4
Thread Starter 

HooDooThere i' th' name of Beelzebub? Here’s a skier that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty. Come in time, you'll have pow enough about you, but afore long, here you’ll sweat for ’t!

 

That was fun. Thanks for the reply HooDooThere!

post #4 of 4
Well everyone can master a grief except he who has it.

It is only February.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Ski season's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more until autmn: it is a tale
Told by a skier, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
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EpicSki › The Barking Bear Forums › On the Snow (Skiing Forums) › General Skiing Discussion › Weather to Ski or not to Ski may not be the question. (Those with a familiarity with Shakespeare may get a grin or a tear from this)