Happy Towel Day!

Some English dude named Bill S.

I pretty much think his plays stink, nothing more than SNL in London.

His sonnets are greatness.
 
Well in our English class we read a Bill S. book, some rarely known story about 2 people who commit suicide at the end or somethin...and then we read some book about killing a bird written by a harpist...I dunno, I slept through most of it...
 
In my high school English class we watched the sandlot six times (no joke). I don't think we read a single book sophomore year. The teacher was dyslexic or something. He pretty much only had the job because his first name was coach. Public school fail.
 
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