I've had this idea going around my head for a while that the infinite monkeys writing Shakespeare are not really, in fact, writing Shakespeare. To a reader it may seem so, or even to an external observer, but the monkey has no greater or lesser perception about what it's doing, no difference between the indifferent smashing of keys, and the indifferent smashing that produces poetry. It is true that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. Not only beauty but also meaning, emotion, interpretati...
