Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?

You kissed him on the lips? Eeewwwww! This book must be banned and burned! Hellfire! Damnation! Shakespeare is gay! Mobilize the forces of all that is good and holy!

Oh, and, have a nice day.