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No offense meant to the real and legendary Kurt Cobain. I do not own Nirvana or Shakespeare, but they go together like peanut butter and jelly. Please comment nicely!

Hello, aborted fetuses, drive by victims, and children of all ages who died of parental abuse and neglect! I'm Kurt Cobain, failed rock star, successful suicide, and chief instructor of the Limbo-Purgatory Special Ed department! It's time for our weekly Shakespeare program, Kurt Cobain's Klassics for Kids!


Everyone called him King Lear, but his real name was Learvis Presley, the King of Rock and Roll. Now once upon a time, old King Lear had been the greatest rock star of all, but after years of stuffing his face and making really bad movies he got too old and fat to shake his ass and make those little old ladies scream. And here's what happened when he decided to step down!

OLD KING LEARVIS: All right, baby. I'm too old and fat to rock anymore, so it's time some of y'all took over. There's only the three of you, so I'm giving part of rock and roll to each one. The question is, which one of y'all loves rock and roll the most?

BRUCE GONERIL: Oh, man! Deep in my heart, deep in my soul, I have true love for rock and roll. It's the greatest thing, and that's why to me you'll always be the king! I mean that from the bottom of my blue collar heart that's pure and true and always sincere in everything I do! I owe you so much, King Learvis! I owe you my heart and soul! And that's how much I love rock and roll!

OLD KING LEARVIS: Not bad, man. Not bad. I think I'll leave you my pink Cadillac. Now what about you, rock hero number two?

BONO REGAN: Ah, the pure spirit of you, King Learvis! It's you have brought the true faith back to all the sinners of the world. All those drugs you took and all the greasy fatty foods don't count. The hope of salvation in every cheeseburger makes me want to soar like an angel into the American sunset and reign forever as your true son. If it weren't for you, sure, I'd be just another pedophile priest lusting after six year olds in County Cork! How great thou art! You have given me salvation and I love your rock and roll more than wealth or fame or me own damned Irish soul!

OLD KING LEARVIS: That's good, little buddy. That's gone, that's real gone. I think I'll leave you my gospel music collection. Now what about the pretty boy with the blonde hair? You look like a rocker. What does my music mean to you?


OLD KING LEARVIS: What's that you say, son? Sorry, I can't hear so good. Ears got damaged driving tanks when I was a G.I. in West Germany.

KURT KORDELIA: I'm not like them, but I can pretend. You're not a fat joke, you're a hero and I love you. However, like you, I'm dead. This limits my ability to dream the rock and roll dream. It's the parasites and the fakers who got rich off the things you did. The imitation outcasts, the television messiahs, they saw the light. Not the real sick, twisted, dress-wearing mama's boys, the hopeless suicides like me . . . and you.

OLD KING LEARVIS: Now hold on there, son! Don't you be calling me a mama's boy. Don't step on my blue suede shoes!

BRUCE GONERIL: Banish him, daddy! Do it for Nixon!

BONO REGAN: No, no, burn him, daddy. Burn him! He's a bloody Protestant, he's a bloody heretic! Remember Bloody Sunday!

And so the corporate superstars of rock tortured young Kurt Kordelia to death, then drove King Learvis mad until he died.


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