The annual Fairchild Mango Festival is only a few weeks off. One of my acquaintances, Hammy (is that short for Hamilton?), has been thinking about going. He's a bit of an odd fellow--- claims to be descended from Danish royalty--- and he seems to have a lot of trouble making decisions. Called me up the other day to tell me about his deliberations. As I recall, it went something like this:
To fest or not to fest, that is the question
For each year's Fairchild mango celebration.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The heat and crowds of peerless mango show
Or stay at home in air-conditioned bliss,
And down a couple cold ones. South to drive
No more, and in our comfy home forget
The steam bath, and the thousand stinging bugs
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a recreation
Gladly to forswear. To rest, to sleep
Perchance to dream of unknown mango kind
Of taste supreme. Ay, there's the rub.
For those exotic mangos that we'll miss
By passing up Sir Richard Campbell's bash
Must give us pause. Such is the fear
That keeps us going back each year.
(with deep apologies to William Shakespeare)
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