If you can’t get Hulu to work, try watching this version:
Video by Misspippylou
Video by Rocketboom
Joss and Ira did this interview to raise money for 826NYC, a nonprofit organization dedicated to helping students ages 6-18 develop creative writing skills. If you enjoyed this video, please donate a dollar or two to 826NYC.
Part I: Dr. Horrible, Stephen Sondheim, The Tick, and the origins of Bad Horse
Part II: Directing NPH, How Last Temptation of Christ affected Buffy
Part III: Dr. Horrible sequel, private Shakespeare readings, what killed Fred, and fatal flaw of Dollhouse
Part IV: Dealing with Fox stupidity, getting stoned, Episode 13
Part V: What would’ve happened to Firefly’s characters if it wasn’t canceled, does Joss hate his father?
Part VI: Why BSG is the greatest show ever, side boobs, and Reavers vs. Vampires
bonus video: cover of Mrs. Robinson
Video and music by Jack Conte and Nataly Dawn of Pomplamoose Music
“HOW TO GET TO MAYA BAY: Fly to Bangkok (BBK) through KLM Royal Dutch Airlines (which is awesome) then take a jet down to Phuket. Jump on a cab and have them take you to the docks where you’ll catch a ferry to Phi Phi Island. Reserve a room on Phi Phi before you leave home (I recommend Phi Phi Island Village Resort and Spa) then take a long-tail boat to Maya Bay at around 11AM the next morning.
Most people go through the front entrance to get to the beach but if you feel like being more adventurous then take the back way like we did! You’ll have have to jump off your boat, swim to the ladder then hike through a small forest to get to the beach. It’s much more fun that way, trust me! If you plan on bringing your camera like I did, then BRING A WATERPROOF BAG!!! I took a huge risk to make this video but if it weren’t for that bag, then this video wouldn’t have happened.”
Video by Cory Williams
Music Pseudosadness by Nathan Willis
Context: King’s cousin complained their army is too small. King Henry responds…
Henry the V movie and speech by Kenneth Branagh
Play by William Shakespeare
WESTMORELAND.
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING
What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark’d to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say “These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.”
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
Four Weddings and a Funeralby Mike Newell
Poem Funeral Bluesby W.H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.