The title’s ours, not his. From his website:
After the hopeX shock-and-awe (and I thought I would at long last be inured to my head exploding after some snowden-dox-induced revelation) I am left being sure of this: the None-Such-Agency appears to make for an excellent source for Impresario HR….
Leading me to conclude that your title is an excellent-addition-slash-lit-critical-lens — but only if by ‘chaperoning’ you mean something closer to pandering.
recall that we get the verb ‘to pander’ from Shakespeare’s, Troilus and Cressida. (add here some complaint about Shakespeare’s too many words for one person to invent, far more than artistic immortality requires, muttered by this poet’s ego in envious aside….)
Pandarus, the lecherous, pimping, savvy, witty and, if he be profiting withal, actually rather kind gadfly, perhaps twice their age, without whom the two lovers, although they fell in love at first sight would have never found place nor time for their love. Sometime loyal, often corrupt, and almost always able to view their trysts surreptitiously, because his services were in fact requested.
Important. We have to stop asking for our privacy and anonymity to be eroded — we have to stop enjoying it so when we are the ones privy to the information.
Or suffer the diseased society that is the consequence.
A goodly medicine for my aching bones! O world!
world! world! thus is the poor agent despised!
O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set
a-work, and how ill requited! why should our
endeavour be so loved and the performance so loathed?
what verse for it? what instance for it? Let me see:
Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,
Till he hath lost his honey and his sting;
And being once subdued in armed tail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your
As many as be here of pander’s hall,
Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar’s fall;
Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.
Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade,
Some two months hence my will shall here be made:
It should be now, but that my fear is this,
Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss:
Till then I’ll sweat and seek about for eases,
And at that time bequeathe you my diseases.
from Troilus and Cressida, Epilogue.
p.s. this is my favorite newfound blog…
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